CAMBRIA

THIRTY

Cambria walked aimlessly down the street, hands in her pockets. It was a beautiful day. The sun was shining. The air was warm. She didn't feel happy, but she didn't feel sad either, and that was because she was on Xanax, which left her feeling devoid of any emotions whatsoever.

That was how it had to be. Because when she wasn't on Xanax, she felt everything, always, all at once. Her emotions were overwhelming and they often got the best of her. Rather than control them, they controlled her, and she did not like it.

She'd been struggling a lot lately. She'd been struggling for the last six months. Ever since she detonated that bomb and destroyed whatever friendship she once had with Jackson.

She could acknowledge her wrongdoing. She understood where she had fucked up. It's not like it was intentional. Okay, maybe a little. She was drunk (that wasn't an excuse – she was just insane). And angry. People lash out and do crazy things when they're drunk. Or in love, as Mara had warned her.

Mara was right. They were all right. And Cambria was wrong, which was a difficult thing to admit. But she was admitting now: she was wrong.

It's not as though she had lied when she said she wasn't in love with Jackson. When she defended herself to Mara that night, she wholeheartedly believed that to be the truth. As far as she knew, she wasn't in love with Jackson.

But alas, the truth always comes out eventually. And for Cambria, it took losing him to finally realize it.

She'd been in denial. She had been lying to herself for so long, perhaps trying to convince everyone of something that she was trying desperately to believe herself.

It hit her like a freight train. Suddenly and all at once. Lying on the bathroom floor, crying for the seventh day in a row. Finally – finally – the realization dawned on her: she was in love with him.

It all made sense. It had always made sense. How she hadn't realized it sooner was astonishing, albeit understandable. Sometimes we don't see the most obvious things, even when they're right in front of us. Flashing with a neon sign. And in Cambria's case, that sign read: I AM IN LOVE WITH JACKSON.

But like I said, some of us aren't as attuned to these things.

She loved Jackson. She had always loved Jackson. Blinded by excuses, buried behind the naivety of their friendship, hidden behind little white lies and clandestine crossing of lines. What constituted love? What distinguished love from friendship? It happened so naturally, without effort. It was destined from the moment they met, the stars aligning in a way they never had with anyone else. She felt such a familiarity with him, an inexplicable kinship. Late nights on the phone that she would normally spend alone. His presence taking all the air from her lungs. She was blind to everyone but him. He saw her in colors that were yet to exist. They had their own language that only the two of them understood. She thought it was friendship, but it had always been so much more than that.

They'd been doomed from the start.

It had been a difficult six months. Much more difficult than the previous time they ended their friendship. That was because, last time, it had been a mutual decision. He was fed up with her, and she was fed up with him. Besides, she had Lawson. Someone to numb the pain, mend her wounds.

This time, on the other hand, was much much different. She hadn't wanted to lose him, didn't intend to destroy their friendship, but it happened all the same. He was done with her. For good. She had finally blown it. And this time, she was painstakingly alone.