Severed Feelings

John isn’t in bed when I wake up the next morning.

Sunshine is pouring in through the venetian blinds that I forgot to close and warms the exposed skin that my sheets haven’t covered. I lay in bed for a few moments, listening to the apartment, searching it for any signs of human life other than my own occupying it.

There’s silence and it’s almost safe to assume that he’s gone, probably off to Jared’s again to work on their new album. He needs to find the right motivation again – they all do – and writing together sometimes helps.

I get up slowly, taking my time to stretch out – to feel the muscles in my legs and back relax in the midmorning sunlight. Ruffling the mess my hair has become, I stand from the edge of the bed and pad out to inspect the damage.

Glass is broken on the floor. The vase my mother had sent me from one of her interior design conventions has become another casualty of John’s intoxicated venting. The large metal container that I use for umbrella storage by the door is tipped over, a small dent in the side the size of the toe of John’s shoe.

I sigh, running a hand down the side of my face as I study the mess.

“I’m sorry.”

My heart starts in my chest. Twisting on my heels, I turn to see John sitting on the window sill, body half-in and half-out of the apartment as he smokes.

“It’s fine,” I say, even though it’s not. The situation’s not fine, we’re not fine, the fact that everything’s turned to shit before my very eyes isn’t fine.

I cross my arms over my stomach and swivel back to examine the room once more.

Nothing more is said. John’s hung over. I’m not in the right mindset to talk about the calamity we’ve become without sounding like a crazy woman and no words really need to be said. It’s like another typical Saturday morning to us, even if I don’t want to admit that it’s a terrible pattern we’ve created.

We eat breakfast together, me idly picking at my Cheerios and John with his Lucky Charms. Neither of us makes direct eye contact until we stand to put our bowls in the sink.

“I’m going to Jared’s,” John states.

I only nod and head in the direction of our room to get ready for the day.

As I pull on a clean top, I sit on the edge of the bed and wait for the sound of the door.

A few seconds later it opens, then closes and I’m alone again.

◄◄ ►►

I meet Joslyn at Monty’s.

It’s a nice little restaurant downtown that not a lot of people know about. The wait-staff is the best and their coffee is unbelievable.

It’s the first time we’ve seen each other or talked since the kitchen incident and I expect it to be awkward, but it’s not. Joslyn is waiting at a table with a warm smile and a cup of joe already in grip when I walk inside. She waves me over as if it’s crowded and I can’t see her.

We hug over the table before I sit.

“I’ve missed you, Savannah.”

“Me too,” I say, conjuring up a smile to shoot her way. “How have things been? Any new gossip to fill me in on since I last saw you?” I want to be genuine when I ask her the questions, but I really can’t be.

She shrugs nonchalantly, lifting her hand to brush her hair back from her shoulder. Something catches my eye: a bright, shiny diamond ring planted on her ring finger on her left hand. My jaw drops.

“Oh my god! Is that…?”

She grins, nodding excitedly. “Kennedy proposed to me!”

We both make obnoxious squealing sounds of feminine excitement. I can’t help but to hug her again as happiness floods through me for her – for her and Kennedy.

“Oh my god! This feels so unreal!” I gush.

“Tell me about it!”

I hold my face in my hands as I try to think of something to say. I’m overwhelmed and surprised and too happy to formulate any real words. “How’d he do it?”

Joslyn bit her lip, eyes sparkling. “He was acting a little strange all night when I got home from work. He had dinner made, and you and I both know that that boy doesn’t cook. I thought he was going to break some bad news to me or something, but at dinner he started talking about the important things in life and what he’s learned from this past year.

“He told me that he realized that he didn’t want to live a life without me being in it and he just asked me.”

I smiled, taking her left hand in mine to study the ring. It wasn’t anything extravagant – a simple round cut – but it definitely suited Joslyn. She wasn’t flashy, she wasn’t about having the greatest. She was simple and un-dramatic and that’s what I liked about her.

I couldn’t help myself. Another squeak of excitement escaped my lips. “I’m just so happy for you! This is amazing, Jos. So incredibly amazing.” And I meant it.

It wasn’t until I returned back to the apartment that the giddiness I felt for my best friends wore off. The real and un-denying happiness I had suddenly morphed from good emotion into bad. The butterflies I felt in my stomach turned into a nauseous pit.

I was happy – so happy – but then the guilt kicked in.

I barely made it to the bathroom before the coffee I just drank over discussing possible wedding themes with Joslyn came back up. The acidic mess left me leaning over the toilet with tears in my eyes and with what felt like a knife cutting into my gut.

Guilt was a wretched thing.

But what was worse was knowing that you didn’t deserve happiness.

And I certainly did not deserve that kind of emotion. Not after everything.

I’d failed. I’d failed myself and I’d failed John. I’d failed all of our friends and the rest of the O’Callaghan family. Most of all, I’d failed Imilee, and that was something that I couldn’t change or forget.

It would forever be my greatest regret.