Page 36 of Love Bitters

Imogene

Two uneventful weeks pass by in a blur of one day to the next, and I can slowly feel myself sliding down a slippery slope of depression that nothing seems to pull me out of. It all started three days after the first book club meeting when a notification popped up on my social media app saying Wes had liked one of my posts. Yet when I clicked on it, there was nothing. It took me nowhere, which means one of two things...either the app had a major malfunction, highly unlikely, or he was looking through my stuff and accidentally pressed the button. It’s exactly what I’ve been doing for months now, minus the part about tattling on myself by liking one of their photos.

After reading the book for our next meeting, shit just went from bad to worse. Now, Jade did a great job on research and finding the whole subgenre. The only thing that sucked about reading it was the fact that I’ve lived it personally. Nothing hits home harder than actually living in the main characters shoes. Especially when it’s got this picture-perfect ending where everyone lives happily ever after, but it’s bogus in my personal book of my life. When the epilogue ends with the characters still growing old together, years later, it rubs salt in the wounds all that much harder. I’ve never had anyone in my life still be so happy in love with their partner. Love bitters people until they become unemotional creatures, much like my mother and father.

Of course, thoughts like those send me down another emotional rollercoaster because, with my firsthand experience, I’m not so sure I believe my own negativity. It’s like my head and heart are both torn into two separate pieces. I’d tried my best to hide all of it from Jolene, but us working so closely together obviously made that next to impossible. I’ve already brushed off many of her questions this week, and it’s getting exhausting trying to keep it all bottled up.

Even with all her curious questions and glances, work is better than home right now because at least I’m distracted. As soon as I step into my empty apartment, it’s saddening to the deepest parts of my soul. No amount of trying to get myself off or peanut butter helps. I even got desperate enough to buy an entire box of donuts, but the moment I set them down on my kitchen countertop, the waterworks started flowing. It took a long while to stop the tears that day. Even something as insignificant as a glazy round dessert launched my thoughts straight to the cabin in Tennessee. The first day Ollie and I met, he’d said I smelled just like a donut, not realizing I’d been riding with a fresh box the last part of my drive. I’d made a joke of it embarrassing him, but it was so worth it. For a few minutes, my smile had returned only to be clouded over once more when the memory jumps straight into that same night. Wearing Ollie’s shirt he’d given it to me as a cover up, his boyfriend had found me guzzling down the last donut from the box. Evan had locked my body between his and the counter while offering to let me spend the night with him and Ollie. It was the first true proposition those men had offered me that weekend and surely wasn’t the last.

Months later, here I lay alone, following a long day at work, staring at the ceiling and wondering if there will ever be a time my life will feel like it’s on the right track again. I consider checking in on them but decide not to go down that route today. What I should be doing is making something to eat. Otherwise, I’ll be regretting it when I start feeling sick from not putting anything in my stomach.

I’ve nearly talked myself into it when there’s a knock at my door. Sitting up, I stare down the straight hallway toward the sound like I’ll be able to see through the damn thing to find out who’s on the other side. The knock comes again, and I ungracefully get to my feet before shuffling toward the sound. One quick look through the peephole has me shaking my head and glancing toward the ceiling. All I’d gotten was an eyeful of a peanut butter ice cream label, so either the person holding it is one of my friends or a psycho prepared to lure me to my demise in the most embarrassing way possible.

Deciding it’s worth the risk, I unlock the door and pop it open a crack.

With matching smirks, Jolene and Abi are waiting for me to let them in.

“You didn’t have to bring bribery if you wanted to visit,” I tease, opening the door the rest of the way and allowing them inside. Neither looks sheepish either.

Abi heads straight for the kitchen, tossing over her shoulder, “The bribes are for info, not for visiting. That’s just a bonus perk for all of us.”

For the first time in a couple weeks, a laugh spills out of my lips, lifting a small weight off my chest.

Jolene’s smile widens at the sound, and she hands off a plastic bag that I’m tempted to tear through with my teeth. “More like food for thought. Literally,” she says with a short chuckle.

“This bag smells so good. I’d tell you anything you want to know for it. No shame,” I tell her honestly.

We laugh together, taking a seat at the table. Abilene comes back with the container of icecream and a spoon, setting it down in front of me. “I’m showing friendly support by feeding your cravings, but I swear I’m going to peace out if you start mixing these together.”

Laughing again, I stop to consider peanut butter icecream on top of the chips and salsa they brought. They’re from the place across the street from work that I’ve visited every day for going on three weeks now. Abilene gags at my expression, but I save her the trouble of thinking about it any further.

“Honestly, it doesn’t sound too bad,” I tell them, “but I’m not going to do it. Promise.” Maybe after they leave.

“You can mash whatever you want together as long as you tell us what’s been bothering you the past couple of weeks,” Jolene offers. With her dark hair in a messy bun on top of her head and square-framed glasses that do nothing to hide her blue eyes, she’s every bit the nerd personified tonight. Unquestionably, it doesn’t help that she’s wearing a shirt with the periodic table of elements splashed across the front. The only thing that stands out is the ring through her nose, declaring she’s at least some percent a rebel.

Spooning a large bite of the ice cream past my lips, I give myself a chance to contemplate how much I want to tell them. Do I want to come off as a semi-stalker or a sad little fat chick who can’t cope without a man? Ah, what the hell. If I can’t talk to people who’ve slowly started becoming my closest friends, then there’s no hope for me anyway.

Swallowing the bite in my mouth, I shrug, admitting, “I’ve been having a rough go of it since our last book club meeting.”

“Did the book Jade picked have anything to do with it?” Jolene asks softly.

I shrug again. “That’s part of it, but don’t tell her. What she did was really kind.”

“Would it make you feel any better to know I struggled with it too?” Abilene questions.

My wince is instant. “I’m sorry,” I tell her. “I’m sure it was just as bad for you too.”

She shakes her head as she replies, “No, I seriously doubt that. Your hormones have to be all over the place right now. Mixing that with some deep-rooted emotion, I should’ve come over sooner. I just kind of thought you wanted your space for a bit since I hadn’t heard from you.”

“Imma wasn’t talking to any of us,” Jolene supplies, empathizing with her.

I apologize before admitting, “I kind of stalk them sometimes on social media. I’m curious if they’re experiencing the same thing I am or if they’ve already decided to move on.”

At Jolene’s raised eyebrows, I add, “I know it sounds crazy, but I’m not.”

“That doesn’t make you crazy, Im,” she assures me. “It means you’re just not over them yet. Are you still stressing about who the father is? I’m sure that doesn’t help either.”

“I am,” I confess. “This sounds absolutely horrible, but I can’t even begin to guess which one it is. And a couple of them will take it harder than the others if they find out that the baby is theirs. Not because they wouldn’t want to claim it, but because I cut them out of this phase of its life.”

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