Rest Easy

Original Edition: i. the restless

"Does nobody understand?"

[James Joyces' last words]

♦

Dudley Warrington could not sleep. And he felt like letting his ex-girlfriend, Vanessa, know about it. Though it had been weeks since they had held a palpable conversation, he was itching to feel something more than emptiness, to fill up the cavity in him that drywall couldn't fix. He had felt the hole getting bigger, ever since that god-awful, life-warping, indelible, Tuesday Morning. Eleven weeks ago. To be exact: eleven weeks, nineteen hours, seven minutes ago. He had felt the cavity feed like a black hole feasting on light, getting bigger, hungrier, satisfied when Vanessa left him, yet still yearning for more emptiness. He needed to fill himself up again. His brother's leftover liquor wasn't quite working. So, he thought, it wouldn't kill to pick up my phone and call my ex-girlfriend, my first love, at three-twenty-two in the morning, whilst his heart refused to drum a lax cadence. He was losing the smell of her hair. He was losing the feeling of her skin. He was losing the memory of her, and he'd never wanted it as tangible as he wanted it right there, right then.

He picked up his phone and dialled her number. To his surprise, she answered his call.

"You're still up?" He asked, trying hard to mask the overt tone of triumph and I-didn't-think-I'd-get-this-far that slipped out of his slurred words. She giggled on the other end of the line.

"Yeah. I have a Spanish final tomorrow afternoon. Cramming, you know. Typical Ness."

"Typical Ness," he repeated. He gulped another shot of whiskey, and scowled as the molten lava went down his throat. He'd need to brush his teeth before he slept, he told himself. "I have a Math final at noon. I studied all day for it. I've just been doin' nothing for the past few hours. Typical Dud." He half-grinned, staring hard at nothing in particular. He was drifting, trying to keep himself together and stop himself thinking about Vanessa's breasts, or her collarbones or her eyelashes. Her lips or her ankles, her thighs. She was ripped away from him, like an angel's feet divorcing the ground, back off into the clouds. He was lost. He needed to remember her again. And no, not from a distance in the school parking lot or across the hallway as she deliberately turned the other way or pretended not to see him when she clearly did. He wanted her right in front of his face. "I can't sleep. It's been really bad lately. I'm scared I'm going under sometimes. I don't mean to offload this on you. I just know you'd understand."

There was silence on the other end for a moment. It felt like forever enveloped within three seconds, and Dudley's heart picked up pace as he waited for a response.

"Of course I understand. Yeah, I do." She spoke as though she was convincing herself. He sensed hesitance.

"I'm sorry. I just miss you." He mumbled. It had only been three weeks since their relationship ended. Just after their one-year anniversary. The cavity in him was taunting him as it grew, and he thought he might just die. He knew he'd feel better in a few months, but that didn't matter now. He missed her.

"Okay. I'll come over. Just for a little while." Vanessa said. Another surprise. Dudley wasn't expecting such a statement from her, but he didn't know what he expected.

"You sure? It's dark out."

"It's a five-minute drive. I'm a big girl."

"What are we gonna do?" He found himself asking.

"I don't know. Talk."

"Talk?"

"Talk."

"Dylan's not home."