Painful Pleasures

Chapter 3

Jay! He called.
My hand shot forward across the table in a split second, reaching for the phone that Gretchen suddenly pulled away, out of my reach.

"Oh my God, April. Calm down."

"No, no, no. You can't do this, I've been waiting for his call!"
I stood and stretched forward, ignoring the fact that my movement has disheveled our food with salad greens scattered all around the table.
Gretchen pulled farther away,

"And do you see what this call is doing to you? April, whatever is going on between you and this guy, he is in control of your emotions from wherever he is."

"I don't care! Give me my phone, Gretchen."
I really didn't care who was in control.
Everything was finally going to be alright.
She didn't understand.

"You don't understand-"

"Oh, I understand enough. Since Friday, you've been beaten down, sad, grouchy, weak and according to you 'broken'. This guy calls and you're suddenly uppity."

People were beginning to stare.
"And so what? Give me my phone." I try to grab the buzzing phone but she pulls it away again.

"No!" She said stubbornly and hit voicemail.
And then I lost it.

"Are you crazy? What the hell is wrong with you?" I yelled at her and her defiant face melted to shock.
A waiter approached us but Gretchen held up her hand,

"Yes. I know. We're leaving." She said and walked out of the place with me on her heels.
When we are outside, she whips around to face me but my anger is already over the brim.

"You have no right to decide the choices I make or tell me when to eat or even stop me from taking calls on MY phone!" I yell at her in fuming rage.

"April, do you hear yourself? You have completely lost it."

"No, you have! How dare you? Because we coincidentally end up as roommates, you're now obligated to encroach on my life?"

"I'm looking out for you." She states clearly.

"I didn't ask you to. You have no idea why he was calling, he was going to fix everything and you ruined it!" I yell at her.

"Fix everything? I'm guessing he is the same person that put you in the same mess."
I open my mouth to respond but claim it shut.
Jay didn't put me in this mess, it was Ginger...but I'm not ready to bring her into this.
Gretchen looked at me and continued,

"I don't need an expert to know the answer. I can't give you the phone. April." She said, emphasizing my name to let it sink in.

"And can you see why?" Gretchen continued and gestures to our booth through the window where a waiter was cleaning the mess.
Tears blurred my vision.

"It's not his fault, he is sorry and he is calling to apologize for this." I said and Gretchen held up the phone.

"Then why hasn't he called back again?" She asked.
But this isn't right...she has to be wrong. Jay always had an explanation.

"Check the voicemail." I say stubbornly.

"No. You check it." She says and tosses me the phone as she continues,

"You need to see that he is not worth all this emotional pain he is causing you."
And with that, Gretchen leaves.
As I stare at the phone, fear clouds my judgment of whether she is right or wrong. But my need to prove her wrong is stronger and I open the voicemail.
The voice I have adored for the past 3 years speaks, breaking my heart slowly;

**Hey, it's Jay. Just wanted to let you know that I'm going back to school...and about whatever happened yesterday, I can't say I'm sorry, okay? I'm tired of lying. It is what it is, April. It's over. Goodbye.**

****

It is what it is April. It's over. Goodbye.
As I finish listening to the voicemail for what seems like the hundredth time, and I can't stop listening to it.
Over.
And over.
And over.
Endlessly until the sun sets, until a little girl asked if I was homeless and her mother pulled away, until the doorman told me I was frightening customers.
Over and over.
But I didn't find what I was looking for in the voicemail.
At least a clue, a mistake in his words, remorse in his speaking, or at least guilt. But there was nothing, so I got up and walked down the road with Jay's voice echoing in my head.
I can't say I'm sorry. I'm tired of lying.
Tired of lying? Tired of lying? For how long? I can't stop the anger that surges through me out of my sickening tears. How dare he?
It is what it is?
The words keep echoing in my head and I begin to hate it more and more. Hate the way I worshipped him, the way this voice meant everything to me.
Nothing. It's all nothing now.
Loud music probes my thoughts and I stare at the building in front of me, with bright colored lights flashing haphazardly.
Perfect. A club.
I slip inside, ignoring the fact that I'm there in ankle-length leggings, a baggy sweater, and toms.
I need a drink...if I knew how to order one. Shaking the doubt out of my head, I march over to the bar determined not to overthink this.
Since no one is having regrets, I'm not going to.
The bar is early empty apart from one guy sitting there, face down. Taking a deep breath, I walk over and sit down, and within seconds, the bartender is in front of me.

"You want a drink miss?" He asks then observes me closer,
"Or you need directions?" He says and then the guy two seats away from me turns.
I want to tell him to mind his own damn business but when I turn, I recognize the sharp grey eyes immediately with the black tousled hair.

"What are you doing here?" He asks suddenly like I've come to worship in a satanic cult.
Ignoring him, I turn back to the bartender who was watching me with caution while wiping a beer mug.

"Umm.." I stammer, thinking of all the alcoholic drinks I've heard of in movies.
"You do know this a club, right?" Says Griffin.

"What is your problem?" I say to him with a glare.
"You're gonna take the drink away from my hand too? You've taken your damn journal and I owe you nothing. So stop bothering me."

The bartender looks uncomfortable as he stares from me to Griffin and back.

"Are you still going to order?"

"Yes. I'll have a dirty martini please." I say even though I can't remember how alcoholic it was in the movie I watched. Just so this guy can leave me alone.

The bartender brings the drink in less than 2 minutes and as I stare at the triangular wine glass containing liquid similar to water with 3 stuffed olives on a pick inside, I can't help but have second thoughts.
Should I just go back to my room?
I don't want any more pity from Gretchen.
Everything I thought I could handle had backfired on me. My new roommate knew more about my cheating boyfriend just through one stupid call. She could predict him and I've dated him for 3 years.
Idiot.
And then there was Ginger.
That did the trick. I downed the drink in 2 gulps, holding back the urge to spit it out immediately. Then I ate the 3 stuffed olives.
Oh, Christ!!!
The drink practically set my throat and chest on fire
Perfect. I want to feel this, this distracting, burning sensation.

"You okay?" The bartender asks and I smile despite the burning on my lips and the watchful grey eyes just two seats away.

"Yes. Another, please."