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She wasn’t there anymore. She walked to her dresser, uncapping two bottles and swallowing a pill from each before putting them down. The pills weren’t failure. They weren’t failure. Diabetics needed insulin and the clinically depressed needed… Zoloft and lithium. She sighed, slowly pulling on her clothes. At least she was feeling a bit more in control these days. There was a light knocking on her bedroom door. ‘Who is it?’ Her voice moved from her throat as she smoothed on deodorant. ‘Me.’ Dimitri’s voice brought a smile to her face as she pulled a pair of jeans and a t-shirt from her dresser. ‘You can only come in if you promise to let me finish getting dressed.’ He chuckled from his side of the equation, crossing his fingers behind his back as he replied. ‘Of course.’ He opened the door as little as possible to slide his form inside, closing it behind him. Just the sight of her standing getting dressed stirred him. He groaned as he felt his shorts tightening. Curls were hidden. ‘Can we at least talk about…?’ I try because it’s Ben and he’s the most important thing in the world to me, no matter how stubborn he can be. ‘I have that client in four hours…’ he trails off and examines his nails. ‘Fine, Ben. Call me if you decide to stop being an ass, but not before then, ‘kay?’ I slam the door and it squeals. He drives away quickly. I sit for quite awhile in the porch swing we shared for so many summers and angry, frustrated tears burn my eyes. It’s an ugly feeling and I can’t help hating Ben for making it happen. He doesn’t call for five days and I can’t remember how long it’s been since we hadn’t spoken to each other at least every other day. I stare at the phone and hate it, hate him, hate myself. I do angry housework which pleases my mother to no end. I study but retain nothing I didn’t already know. I try to write and all that comes out is pathetic whining and cliches. I even go out for a run and destroy my knees in the process. The pain is probably the.
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