THIRTY FIVE

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BEFORE
CATALAINA KITTRIDGE

I'm not going to lie – I crave drama like a junkie craves heroin. It seems to be what fuels me the most in life. I crave it, I need it. You see, most people are probably the same way, but the difference between me and them is that they would probably lie and deny such a fact. At least I'm being honest with you. I love it. The thrill, the rush – it's exhilarating.

The reason that I am confessing to such a thing is because I feel that this craving for drama inexplicitly describes my personality and explains why I do the things I do. It's why I talk to certain people and avoid others. It's why I participate in the activities that I do. It's why I love someone who neglects me, and neglects someone who loves me.

I know that none of it makes sense. I know that the majority of my actions are unexplainable and reckless. But that's just who I am as a person. I wish I could change it, but I can't.

I guess my yearning for drama is what subsequently brought me to where I am today. After long nights spent awake in bed, and enough mental breakdowns on the bathroom floor, I knew I couldn't handle anymore. So I wandered elsewhere, explored unknown territory. I became somebody that I didn't recognize, experimenting with things and people that were unfamiliar to me. I craved the drama and the attention. I needed it in my life, just as much of a necessity as eating or breathing.

But I'm getting too far ahead of myself. All of the things that happened to me in the last year have been a progressive chain of events, all stemming from one catalyst moment. Because after that night in the hotel room with Will, the rest of my days were simply dominos falling into one another, crashing to the ground.

How did I get to where I am right now? Well, let's find out.

I had to call Ben the next morning – the morning of April twenty-first – to inform him that we would no longer be attending the wedding.

"Ben," I said from the safety of my own bed. I had left the hotel and drove straight home, an emotional wreck. By the time I called Ben, it was 8:30 a.m. and I was drained.
"Good morning," he said. "How'd you sleep?"
"Terrible." It wasn't a lie. I could hear it in my own voice.
"What's wrong?"
"I've been up all night puking. It must be food poisoning from the takeout we got yesterday."
"Shit – are you okay? I'll come over."
"No no, it's fine, stay there. I just need to drink water and stay in bed. But Ben," I hesitated. "I don't think I'm going to be able to go to the wedding today."
The line was quiet for a moment and I wasn't sure what he was thinking. Then he said, "Are you sure? You'll be missing your best friend's wedding."
"Well I don't really have much of a choice," I snapped.
He was quiet again, then he said, "Is there something you're not telling me?"
"What are you talking about?"
"Could there be another reason you don't want to go to the wedding?"
"What is that supposed to mean?"
"I don't know, Catalaina. Do you really want him marrying Juliette?"
I froze. Did Ben know? He couldn't have known. Will and I never once acted on our emotions, let alone in front of Ben or Juliette. There was no way.
"I adore Juliette," I said. "She makes Will happy. And all I want is for Will to be happy," my voice faltered slightly and I bit my lip so I wouldn't cry out or scream or say anything else that was running through my brain in that moment.
My heart was beating through my chest as I awaited his response.
Finally, he said, "I just don't want you to regret it. Not going."
I exhaled. "I'm sure there will be loads of pictures."
"And Will can tell you all about it."
"Exactly!" I said, and tried not to cry.

I'm not even sure if Ben noticed the sudden cease of mine and Will's friendship after that. He most likely knew that something was up, but he never said anything. To this day I'm still unaware as to whether Ben ever suspected anything more was going on between Will and me, or if he was truly ignorant to it all. Will was my best friend, after all. And I didn't even go to his wedding. That says a lot.

After that, Ben and I carried on with our lives as though everything was normal, but deep down, I was a mess. Every morning I'd wake up and replay that night in my head, over and over again. What I said to him, the way he looked at me, the hope that we could finally be with each other once and for all. I was driving myself mad, torturing myself with the last remnants I had left of Will.

Any normal person would have ended their relationship if they were feeling this way – but I've never been a normal person. So instead of confessing the truth to Ben about how I was feeling, I lied. I stayed with him. The truth was, I was only with him because I didn't want to be alone. I was only with him because I couldn't be with Will. Anything was better than nothing.

That was so unfair to Ben. He deserved so much better than me. And honestly, I'm not even sure why he stayed with me. I guess I was better at pretending than I thought. But what was even more perplexing was what happened next.

It was mid-July, my favorite time of the year. It had now been three months since the wedding and I was working hard every single day to completely erase that night from my mind. I hadn't spoken a word to Will or Juliette at all. Life was getting better for me.

Ben and I spent our summer working, reading, and swimming. It was always so hot out, and we both loved to come home from a long day and jump in his pool. Swimming was one of the best coping mechanisms for me. I've always found that I'm most at peace when I'm submerged under water. Something about the lack of oxygen to the lungs, the feeling of being completely surrounded by something – it's therapeutic. When I'm under water, there's no other place I'd rather be. That summer spent swimming with Ben was probably one of my favorite times.

He took me out for dinner one night. The weather was humid and muggy, so I wore a thin dress. We drank expensive wine and ate elaborate meals. We talked the night away, indulging in each other's presence. It had been so long since I had spent an evening with Ben where I truly looked at him and appreciated him in his entirety. Something about the atmosphere and the conversation had me falling in love with him all over again. I did love him, that wasn't a lie. It was just that I loved someone else more.

Everything changed, however, when he brought me back to his place later that night, got down on one knee, and brought out a ring.

He had set up candles leading from the main floor up the stairs into the bedroom. On the bed were dozens of flowers. Initially I thought he just planned on having a romantic night. But then he got down on one knee, and my world came crashing down in front of me.

I should have said no. I should have told him the truth and allowed him to be with someone better. Someone who would love him for who he was, someone who would treat him right.

But what can I say – I guess I'm selfish. And I guess part of me actually wanted to give this whole thing a shot. I wanted to forget the existence of Will Sterling and put one hundred percent of my efforts into being with Ben.

So I said yes.

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