Because of Haven Beach

44 | catharsis

catharsis (n.)

the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions

* * *

'TALK to you later' turned into 'talk to you in a week or two.'

Last Thursday—the day after our fight—I was sure that he'd apologize. So positively sure that he would give me another jar of green M&Ms and a ridiculous poem.

My only present was radio silence and Elliot Ash pretending that I didn't exist.

Despite seeing each other in Environmental Science, lunch, and Photography every day at school, Elliot Ash Cameron and I hadn't uttered a single word to each other in a week and two days. An achingly long nine days without hugs, kisses, or snuggles from my boyfriend.

Although, I wasn't sure if we were still an item. Was this an unofficial breakup? I didn't know the rules of dating, but I certainly didn't want to ask him. Asking Elliot would be the last thing I'd do. It'd be way more than the act of speaking to him. Speaking would be admitting defeat; admitting that he was right and I was wrong.

In retrospect, we should have seen this coming. It's what happens when two of the most stubborn people in Haven Beach start dating. It was a miracle that we dated for two months without any arguments.

I got a few answers to my questions about our relationship the day before I left for LA. Our friends staged a How I Met Your Mother-style intervention in Delaney's basement. Of course, Elliot and I were out of the loop. Aubrey and Benjamin kidnapped us and our friends forced us into participating in a slapdash therapy session.

Unsurprisingly, their efforts didn't work. Grasping at straws, they did the next best thing: locking us in a room. However, they made the mistake of locking us into a room with a window.

I was prepared to apologize to Elliot, ending this once and for all, but he had other plans. Right before he escaped via the window, he broke our nine-day-long silence to tell me he wanted to take a break from our relationship.

To avoid becoming the real-life Ross and Rachel, we set terms; the break would be a literal pause in our relationship, and we were unallowed to see other people.

I was glad that we ended our game of chicken, but then again, what we talked about wasn't exactly a step in the right direction. Instead of a step forward, it was more like a step to the side on the dark and twisty road to recovery.

* * *

When I went home, I busied myself with packing, using it as a distraction from the burning humiliation of being ditched. I woke up the next morning feeling revitalized and vowed to have a happy day, not thinking of El—him.

Ten boring hours, two uncomfortable plane rides, and one awkward taxi ride later, my father and I arrived at our hotel in downtown LA.

"So, Charlotte, what do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked as we dumped our suitcases in our thirteenth-floor hotel room. "I have a business meeting at seven, but I am available until then."

Who was this man, and what did he do with my father? I was incredibly surprised that he wasn't going to abandon me right off the bat. It was the bare minimum, but the bare minimum was a big fucking deal for Mark Haynes.

It must have been the magic (or voodoo) of the thirteenth floor. Hopefully, this strange version of my father wouldn't attack me in the middle of the night, like the other father in Coraline.