Creature Comfort - Chapter eleven

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// god ;; new arcade fire song ;; ; ;; h it my DRUG \\


EDD POV



He's dead. That's what they kept saying. I couldn't believe it, though, not like this; not when there was so much unsolved. So I guess that's what you call denial.


When I got news he was missing, I was in the grocery store buying ice cream. My phone chimed and buzzed painfully loud in my pocket, and I pulled it out in a rush, taking no time in answering. I should have savored it, the ignorance, the general normalcy. I mean, no, things were not fine leading up to then, but everything went from awful to spiraling; which is leaps and bounds worse than awful.


The voice over the speaker told me about what had become of him. There weren't any answers, only the fact he had been reported missing, and a long, regretful, sigh before the line cut out. Tears busted in my eyes, and I was left to my phone's homescreen, mouth agape due to a loss of words, holding the glass door open to a freezer full of ice cream.


The most important, big, things always seem to happen in the most ordinary places. Maybe it's the cancel it out into a false sense of equilibrium you get from receiving it, or just to make it more difficult to react. For example: Your friend's death in 6th period biology. A marriage proposal during your afternoon walks with your golden retriever. The reported disappearance of your best friend in a partially filled grocery store at 12:51 AM.


The universe doesn't care where you are. In fact, it doesn't even care who you are, it just acts, and watches with keen eyes as to how you respond. My response was catastrophic, but not atypical.


I left the basket filled with ice cream on the floor, didn't bother to close the freezer door, and ran out without buying anything. The frosty midnight air bit my cheeks, nose, and eyes as I went, and my breath showed white in the cold. I tried to casually speed walk, but soon I was running, sprinting, back to my car. I opened the door, got inside, and slammed the door shut. The bang echoed through the near empty parking lot, and ringed endlessly in my ears. The sobs came momentarily, first there was nothing, but hit fast, sending my into a shaking, crying, mess. It lasted for what seemed to be forever.


I drove home, my knuckles white against the steering wheel, and heart pounding. The tears were still wet across my cheeks, and my gut felt like fire. Usually, the rides back from the store are short, but it felt like eternity, despite no traffic.


Tom was already asleep, of course, when I got back. I couldn't bring myself to sleep in the same bed as him, and hadn't for the past day or so. The throw pillows on the couch were my new cuddle buds.


I was fine. I was not fine. But fine. Fine in that jittery way that makes your whole body flicker. That brink of having a meltdown at all times fine, but just barely managing to stay afloat fine. A fine that pushes it all deep, deep, deep, down in your gut, until a week or more passes and you just can't take it anymore. It's a type of fine that explodes, yes, but in a controlled manner. It's a self orchestrated fine. It's manageable. And that's the best kind- apart from the denotation.


Despite the overwhelming everything, I slept. I let the waves of emotion rock me to sleep as I clinged to a throw pillow, and pretended it was Tom. I tried to imagine what it felt like to have his arms wrapped around me in a warm embrace, and, for a moment, I found I couldn't remember.

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