Page 137 of Collision
My eyes fill with tears. I do my best to hold them back, but one escapes me. I wipe it away with an irritated swipe and shrug, trying not to let my despair show. “Well, in that case, I guess I can’t do it either.”
I feel exhausted. And there is an excruciating pain blossoming inside me: the realization that the feelings I have for him are not enough and never will be enough. Another tear rolls down my cheek. Enough, I cannot endure his presence for one more minute. I want to be alone and cry. Cry until I forget the source of all my pain.
“Go away,” I say finally, my voice breaking.
I see a spark of sadness flare in his eyes, and I know it is capable of breaking what is left of my heart. “Fuck, Ness…”
He tries to move closer and reaches for my hands, but I step back.
“I’m serious, Thomas, I don’t want to see you,” I tell him coldly, staring out the window.
He just stands next to me. He looks at me for a handful of seconds, his breaths uneven and his fists clenched at his sides. Then, not needing to be asked twice, he puts on his shoes and jacket, picks his helmet upoff the floor, and leaves my room, cursing.
I hear the front door slam and the wheels of his motorcycle skidding on the asphalt. I close the window, go back to my bed and lie down on my stomach. I bury my face in the sheets, which still smell of Thomas, and I burst into uncontrollable sobs.
Thirty-Five
After dragging myself to the bathroom with all the vitality of a sloth and forcing myself to take a shower to make myself at least kind of presentable, I head down to the kitchen to assemble an impromptu lunch. I answer some concerned texts from Alex and reassure him after what happened last night. I should be more upset about Travis’s anger and the violent way he expressed it, but the truth—a truth I am not yet willing to admit to Alex—is that it’s Thomas’s leaving that really hurts. To distract myself, I spend the afternoon in the campus library studying, trying to catch up on my notes for various classes. I would be a colossal liar if I said I wasn’t hoping that Thomas might show up at any moment. I admit that part of me hopes I’ll pass him in the hallways, the cafeteria, or the gym, if only so I would know exactly where he is. Because, if I’m being realistic, right now as I’m walking the halls of the university and watching the endless downpour out the window like a desperate, pathetic loser, he could very well already be in someone else’s bed. A girl who’s willing to give him what I couldn’t. He’s probably kissing her right now, the same way he kissed me. Touching her like he touched me. He’ll be looking at her the same as he looked at me and he must be taking pleasure from her. With her. Owning her as he owned me. Oh, my God. The thought of it makes me sick to my stomach, and I crumple.
Suddenly, a shoulder slams forcefully into mine. I stagger and almost drop the coffee I was holding. I look up and see two blue eyesstaring daggers at me: Shana.
“You little sewer rat, you oughta watch where you’re walking.”
“You’re the one who ran into me. On purpose, I might add,” I point out to her.
“Listen to her, ‘it was on purpose!’” She turns to her two friends, who giggle. With one hand resting on her cocked hip, she draws closer, invading my personal space. “If I ran into you, it’s only because you are constantly in my way.” Then her voice drops in pitch, her expression becoming more threatening. “You are a plague.” She points a finger into my chest. “A goddamn cockroach.” Each word is dripping with disgust. The force of her finger pressing on my chest makes me arch my back slightly and tilt my head.
“You crawl all over campus thinking you can just take what doesn’t belong to you. But maybe it’s time you remember who you really are: a poor loser, so insignificant you bored the one guy desperate enough to pick you. So stupid you believed that someone like Thomas could actually be interested in you.” She presses her finger even deeper into my chest, giving me a little push that makes me retreat a few inches further. Then she removes her hand and, with a self-satisfied expression, takes a step back to join her friends.
I straighten and adjust my shirt. I shouldn’t feel so humiliated by her words. Yet, they went through me like blades. Without realizing it, Shana has given voice to my biggest fears.
“What did I ever do to you, Shana?” I ask, doing my best to appear impassive.
For a moment, she seems surprised by the question. But then, with a flip of her hand, she moves her long, fiery red hair behind her shoulder. In a bored drawl, already turning her attention elsewhere, she replies, “You exist.” Then she takes her two friends by their arms and disappears with them down the corridor.
***
“I exist. Do you get that? Her problem is that I exist! I have never done her any wrong, yet she hates me that much! Can you believe that? MyGod, isn’t college supposed to be a place where students can focus all their energy on securing a better future for themselves? Then someone please explain to me why I keep meeting the most arrogant, obnoxious people to walk the earth!” I’m yelling so loudly into the phone glued to my ear that I attract the attention of some people walking by. They turn around to glare at me, but I ignore them and continue straight home.
“Are you done?”
I close my eyes, take a series of deep breaths to calm down before answering: “Yes, Alex. I’m done.”
“Nessy, I love you and you know I love you. But you should have guessed she was going to react like that. After all, you basically stole her favorite toy right out from under her nose. I don’t know a lot about women, but I think she would consider that reason enough to make you suffer.” What a bitch.
I snort. “I didn’t steal that toy from anyone.” I arrive in front of my driveway and roll my eyes when I see my mother’s car parked there.
“Alex, I have to let you go now. I’m going into the house.”
Alex advises me not to worry too much, and we say goodbye.
The moment I cross the threshold, the smell of garlic, tomato sauce, and freshly baked bread hits me. My mother is in the kitchen, intent on preparing dinner; I say a quick hello and, without lingering too much, start climbing the stairs to my room. “Vanessa, get back here. We need to talk.”
I stop on the second step and curse under my breath, squeezing my eyes shut. Damn! I was really hoping to make good on my escape. I walk back to the kitchen and see her leaning on the sink, arms folded.
“Mom, I have a lot of stuff to study, I don’t have much time—”
“Let’s have a chat,” she says coldly, interrupting me.
