Communicating Vessels [COMPLETED]

Chapter 4

"You got into a fight, Abs?" Sigrid chastised me after I told her what had happened at the Four Seasons. "Seriously?"

We were having our lunch break at the Starbucks by the store I worked at. We were sitting next to the window, and she was drinking a coffee while I was eating a chocolate muffin with my tea.

"What else was I supposed to do? She insulted me and she would have hit first if I hadn't," I defended myself.

"I know, but you need to refrain yourself or you're going to get in real trouble. You're lucky you haven't been kicked out of your employment agency yet."

I sighed. I knew she was right, but how was I supposed to remain calm when people like Brooke called me a whore?

"Anyway," she changed the subject. "Do you plan on meeting Matthew again?"

"Sig, you know I don't—"

"You don't do repeats, I know," she cut me off, exasperated. "But honestly, Abs, aren't you tired of that? Don't you want to settle down with a person you like and, I don't know, maybe try to love them?"

"No, I don't," I replied sharply.

An awkward silence fell between us. She was disappointed in me, and I was angry at her for being disappointed. Why did it matter to her what I was doing with my ass? Weren't the US the alleged land of freedom?

"I'm worried about you, Abs," Sig finally broke the heavy quietness and took my hand in hers.

"You don't have to," I snapped, still annoyed.

"Yes, I do," she insisted. "When you started sleeping around, I said nothing because you were miserable and angry and lonely, and that seemed to make you feel a bit better. But it's been going on for a while now. I know you, and I know you're not happy with this. You need to try and move on."

That was a painful blow. Every single day since that day, I'd had to fight against my own mind not to collapse. Not a single day had passed without me pushing painful memories back to the darkest corners of my brain. Precisely because I was trying to move on, like she said. Her throwing it to my face, unexpected, was thoughtless and uncharacteristic of her.

"You're such a jerk for saying that," I told her, remaining calm. She was my best friend, I would not start an actual fight with her.

"I know," she admitted. "But that's what I'm for. I'm here to tell you the ugly truth, even if you don't want to hear it."

I had nothing to respond to her because she was right. I loved her, she knew how to handle me and was never afraid of telling me what I needed to hear, and not what I wanted to. And I did the same to her.

"Let's forget what I just said, okay? Just try to be safe, please," she requested.

I nodded and we reoriented the conversation towards a less sensitive subject. I was telling her about the gigantic spider I had found in my bathroom when a soft knock on the window startled us. The man behind it waved.

"Who's this?" Sigrid asked. Then she noticed his hair color. "Is that Ginger Dude?"

"Himself."

"Oh wow, he does look uptight. I bet he has never—"

"Shush!" I hissed. "He's coming in."

Three seconds later, Ginger Dude – GD – was standing next to our table, looking down at us.

"Good afternoon, ladies."

We politely answered, then he reminded me about his jacket.

"It's in my locker. I'll go get it in a minute, when my break is over."