Coasting

Chapter 19

A/N: To be honest, I have noooo idea how this chapter turned out. I don't really know how I feel about it. But it's something, so I hope y'all enjoy!

Day 59

I woke up at noon. My head was pounding even though I hadn't had a drop of alcohol the night before. My eyes felt almost crunchy from yesterday's tears.

I took me another twenty minutes to get out of bed. I went into the bathroom and cringed at the remnants of makeup smeared all over my face. I had been too tired the night before to take any of it off. I turned on the sink and splashed the water on my face, not caring about the temperature. I rubbed the makeup off for a few seconds and then turned the cold water off. Leaning my elbows on the counter, I kept my hands covering my face, almost enjoying how the water droplets mixed with day old makeup prickled my skin.

It had been late when I finally went to bed. I stayed on the phone with Rory for over two hours. Most of it consisted of me sobbing and apologizing. Her response was always the same. "You have nothing to be sorry about, Jamie."

Monica came out around seven asking about dinner. When she saw I was crying her face transformed with worry. She began to stride towards me but stopped short when I flinched away and quickly pointed to the phone.

"Do you-" she started and I quickly shook my head, telling her I was fine. She didn't seem convinced and stared at me for a few more moments before nodding, glancing down at her wrists as she retreated into the house.

"Who was that?" Rory asked.

"Aunt Monica," I blubbered.

"Right," my sister responded. "How has that been?"

I opened my mouth but was overwhelmed by a fresh round of tears. Because how could I even begin to explain how it's been. How complicated yet amazing that woman was. How we had been so, so wrong about her all these years.

When all the tears had been purged from my body and the sky was black with night, I finally took a deep, bone shuttering breath and asked, "Can I call you tomorrow?"

"Of course," Rory murmured. "But are you okay now?"

"Yeah, I'm fine." That was partially true, partially false. I was certainly not fine. But after crying and listening to her voice for two hours, I was definitely better.

"Are you sure?" she pressed.

"Yes," I promised. "I'll call you tomorrow."

When we hung up, I felt like I wanted to start crying all over again. But physically I didn't have the energy. I leaned my back against the sliding glass door and stared up at the stars for what felt like hours. At some point I dozed off and woke up around one in the morning, cheek pressed against the wooden deck. Brushing off some dirt on my shorts, I dragged myself inside, up the stairs, and into my bed. I was back asleep in a matter of seconds.

I pushed myself off the sink now and grabbed a nearby hand towel to dry my face.

But maybe we shouldn't do it anymore.

I squeezed my eyes shut, pleading for the sound of my own voice to get out of my head. I went back into my room and changed into a fresh pair of shorts and a tank top before grabbing my phone and bounding down the stairs. Monica was in the kitchen and must have heard me. She came into the living room just as I was opening the sliding glass door to go out to the beach.