Restless Insomniacs

A week later Yale drags me to a party, at first I resist claiming I am not well, that I am suffering from a headache but eventually I give in and agree to go with him. I am not sure what possesses me to accept but when he asked a hopeful look on his sweet face I had felt so indebted for everything he has done for me and I hadn’t been able to say no for a second time.

That does not mean I am enjoying myself, far from it actually as we weave our way through a smattering of stoned kids sitting on the carpet huffing in fumes from a bong. An old Rolling Stones song my dad used to sing to me as a lullaby plays in the background but I don’t think anyone but me is really listening.

Yale is propelling me forward as I struggle to take in my surroundings. We are at someone’s house, it is small and cramped with everyone practically on top of each other. The carpet is stained and cigarette and pot smoke mix in the pungent air suffocating my lungs.

I just want to go home; I don’t want to be out. I am in a bad mood, anger mixed with regret and sadness. Yale has yet to realise and I have yet to tell him, I am not sure why, maybe I don’t want him to ever see my true insides.

Yale leads me to a group of people sitting in a circle, he holds my hand the entire time, it makes my fingers tingle. The girl from the oval, Remy and one of the guys, Oli I think are sitting in the circle, playing some game. Remy looks over and I see something on her face that registers with me, something guttural and emotional, maybe a breaking heart.

Remy tears her eyes away from Yale and to me, she pins me down with her with a stone cold stare beneath her long black lashes, and I am left helpless, desperate for air. I stare back determined to hold my own, if for nothing more than for Yale, but quickly give into the anxiety bubbling in my chest and look away. My throat constricts and I breathe in sweet scented cigarette air, the air is too thick to breathe properly. I think I am starting to hyperventilate.

Before I can give into that thought Remy is speaking, “We were just playing a game,” I glance from Remy to the circle of people noticing for the first time the empty vodka bottle sitting between them. I do not want to play whatever they find so enthralling, but Yale is sitting down and he is my ride, my escape, so I stand awkwardly next to him feeling uncomfortable in my own body.

“What are we playing?” Yale asks glancing first at the bottle and then at me, but making no move to make me feel more included, more comfortable. And for a second, a single solitary second I think I am wrong about Yale. I think he might be just another arsehole in a sea of arseholes, and I am drowning, I am too tired to swim.

Yale pulls a cigarette from his pocket and goes about lighting it. I wish suddenly and maliciously that the ash would fall and burn him, scold him for being an arsehole but he simply taps it into a pile by my feet and I hate him even more.

“Truth or dare” Remy replies after what feels like an eternity,
“Hey! We were playing spin the bottle,” Some horny boy calls in protest from the circle, Remy pins him down with a deathly glare, and he retreats away.

“I’ll go first” Remy says, after pretending to think for a minute she looks me dead in the eyes and says, “I pick Daria”

“Oh I’m… I’m not playing,” I say lamely shaking my head no.
Remy rolls her eyes but it is Yale that ultimately changes my mind, he gives me a look like he expects different from timid old me, that he expects something more and I am suddenly desperate to prove him wrong, make him see me, the real me hidden beneath all the sadness.

“Truth” I challenge Remy, she stares at me sadly for a minute,
“Do you like Yale?” She asks with such innocence I swear I believe her for a minute, that she is innocent and then I realise she is the devil incarnate. Only he could possess such a powerful trick.

Yale lets out a laugh next to me and I want to answer but the truth and a lie get mixed up in my mouth and I cannot work out which one to tell, yes or no. I am so unsure what I feel for Yale, gratitude and indebtedness? Yes, friendship maybe but like? I have no clue.

My mind is conflicted and my heart torn. Yale has been so nice to me and has helped me so much but he is Yale Beckett. He is messed up, like me, and I am not sleeping much these days. I wish I were asleep right now; I wish this were nothing more than an awful dream. I pinch my arm in an attempt to wake up in a cold sweat, this whole situation nothing more than a nightmare. Unfortunately, I don’t wake up, and now everyone is staring at me,

“I… I” I sputter words not coming to my defence, I flush red in embarrassed humiliation,

“Oh my god. You love him,” Remy says in stunned realisation, Yale laughs at the awkward situation and I hate them both, I wish they would just disappear.

“You’re just scaring her, she’s shy” Yale replies and I don’t hate him anymore, no I am eternally grateful to him for chalking this slip up as nothing more than being shy.

The room is getting smaller, the person on my left keeps blowing smoke in my direction and I am starting to choke. Add in the fact Yale smells exactly like my father and suddenly I can’t breathe. I need to get out.

Now.

My hands and feet propel me towards an exit, I am not thinking properly about where I am going, how safe this neighbourhood is to be roaming at night or which way home is all I am focused on is getting out and away from them all.

I breathe shallow air as I reach the gate at the front of the house and struggle to unlock it, a hand lands on my shoulder, heavy, and I shake it off desperate to get away. I need to disappear. I need to be at home, in bed sleeping.

I stop at a street sign after finally unlatching the knee high gate and pause for a moment no idea where I am. Embarrassed I reach for my cell phone and begin typing in my unlock code garnering the strength the call my mother to come pick me up.

“Daria” Yale yells from somewhere behind me, it is the first time in a week he has called me by my first name and it does it’s intended, it gets my attention. I stare at him as he crosses the road to join me on the sidewalk,

“I am sorry” He says suddenly and all at once jolting me back to life. I stare at him and know deep down he means it, I don’t accept it immediately though, I like seeing him sweat for a moment running his hand through his already messy hair making it even messier.

When I do accept, Yale looks relieved and I feel it, I do not yet know what Yale and I are but I think we are more than friends but much less than lovers, we simply fall somewhere in between.

Simply in between.

Yale and I end up at a gas station three blocks from my house at three in the morning. I had called my mother shortly after my outburst and when Yale found me telling her I was staying at a friend’s, planning to spend the night with Yale watching the stars.

I hold a big gulp in my hand my fingers hurting from the cold, Yale is slightly drunk after he had talked me into going back to the party promising to keep at least ten feet of distance between Remy and I at all times.

I sit on the hood of his shitty Camaro staring at the stars as he pumps gas, “These are my favourite” I sigh into my big drink, it is nearly the size of my petite head, Yale laughs, “My dad used to get them for me all the time when I was younger,” Yale is listening but at the same time I don’t think he understands my words or the magnitude of what I am telling him, he is too drunk and we are too in between.

“They are so big” He says glancing at the three-ounce soft drink in my hand,

“They are perfect at night” I say taking a sip of my, well big gulp.
“Maybe this is why you don’t sleep” I glance at Yale in confusion and wonderment, how could he possibly know that?
“How do you know I don’t sleep?”

Yale may be slurring slightly, but he still has the most magical voice I have ever heard. It sounds just right like my father when he was happy and singing. “You are always yawning and I figured… oh never mind” He says laughing like his words mean nothing but they do.

They mean more than we could both understand and I suddenly feel light like air and free like the wind and it is amazing, I wish this moment will never end.

“You may be right but I am never giving these up”

“Such a filthy habit” Yale says ignoring the irony as he pulls out a cigarette.

He joins me on his car after paying for his petrol at the auto pay petrol machine with a bank card. We stay there for hours ignoring the filthy look the owner keeps shooting out way as we watch the sun rise and the stars set, almost touching hands but not quite, when I tell him I need to go home.

As we say goodbye he tells me the most beautiful secret, “I don’t sleep either, I’m too… restless”

I smile as he reaches for my hand he is still tipsy I realise as I smell the alcohol on his breath as he plants a whisper of a kiss on my forehead making me feel giddy and excited at the same time.

“A restless insomniac” I tell him before he mutters exactly disappearing into the morning light, and for a moment I feel okay, better than okay for a moment I feel good and I never want the feeling to leave.

Never ever.