Sadie (18+)

Chapter 38

Vincent and I were on better terms—not good, necessarily, but after our conversation, our dynamic had certainly shifted.

A weight had settled on my friendship with Julia, however. I tried spending more time at home, only sleeping over on nights when we didn't have school, but I still couldn't shake the overwhelming guilt which befell me every time I bonded with my best friend. I used to be decent at pushing it to the side with her, but it became increasingly difficult now.

The decision on what to do about our future hung glaringly in the distance—change my dorm assignment to offer her a chance at a better life without me, a life which ensured my distance from Vincent, or continue the friendship, and keep the already fragile and dangerous tie which pulls me to him.

Would I be able to handle the hurt once Vincent and I are through, if Julia and I stay friends? He had said it himself, after all, the line which insinuated our end.

You know this can't go on forever.

I was under the assumption that it would end when Julia and I leave for college; he must figure the same.

It was difficult not jumping ahead, but my mind was riddled with anxiety, and some nights it was the only thing that permeated my thought process.

When and how exactly would it end? How would I bear a life without him around? How would anybody ever compare?

I would never find someone who could possibly top what Vincent made me feel, and that alone was a tough pill to swallow.

Around the house, he no longer sported a look which indicated stress or tension upon seeing me. Instead, there was a softness, an understanding. We hadn't interacted much since that night, only passing each other or sharing a glance at the dinner table. I very seldom found him in the living room at the hour in which he would typically occupy the couch, but I also spent more time sleeping in my own bed at home; unfortunately, it made sense our paths were not crossing as often.

Because of these irregularities, we spent less time together, thus leaving me to ponder the future on my own.

However, it was easy enough to note the thick and heavy tension that now existed between him and his wife, and it was much worse than last time. At first, it was subtle—the lack of engagement at the dinner table, the rigid body language, the nitpicking over trivial matters. It would have all flown under the radar had I not been exposed to a failing marriage at such a young age.

Julia hadn't seemed to pick up on this, but her ignorance was for the better. I almost envied her lack of awareness; what was it like to be so imperceptive?

Julia had once told me that she didn't have an inner-monologue, the little voice which narrates thoughts and feelings, fears and worries. I was shocked; I hadn't known it was possible, but I wondered if it played a role into her ability to effortlessly ease through life, to not dwell.

What I would give to have a quiet mind.

We were both swamped with assignments and exams as our senior year neared its end; this made it easier for Julia to disregard any odd behavior between her parents. We held study sessions in her bedroom in the meantime, sometimes at a coffee shop downtown, and spent hours quizzing each other using flash cards.

The distractions were good for both her and I, though I had a terrible curiosity to find out what troubles brewed between her parents.

And like a whistling tea kettle, the tension grew louder and hotter until it reached its dangerous peak, resulting in a fight that transpired in their bedroom on a Friday at nine-o-clock.