My Love, My Drug, My Release

Chapter 50: The New Worst Day

"We should go back soon," Thelma murmured into my neck, her cheek pressed against my bare shoulder. "They'll be missing you."

"You're right."

But neither of us moved, except to adjust an arm or leg to get more comfortable. I kicked the sheets off completely, warm enough with her beside me. Sleeping with Thelma made me wonder why I ever lusted for anyone else. Paul and Keith couldn't compete, Gally didn't even come close, and she never left me with that guilty, gnawing feeling in the pit of my stomach. 

"Do you hear something?" she asked after a moment.

"I think it's just the house settling."

She shrugged, snuggling closer against me, but then I hear what she had, something similar to floorboards creaking. But then the pitch deepened and I realized it was a moan coming from across the hall; Paul was having sex.

I know I didn't have any right to be angry considering what I'd gotten up to, but I didn't condone him cheating on Linda with anyone other than me, and, considering their cold interactions this evening, I doubted he was in there fucking her. I scrambled out of bed, much to Thelma's annoyance, and redressed, crossing the hall to pound on Paul's door.

"Just a minute!" A split second later, the door opened, my step-father fully dressed but flushed with arousal. "What do you want, Lo?"

"Who's in there with you?"

"Nobody, I was wanking off."

Scoffing at his audacious lie, I shoved my way into the master bedroom, blood draining from my face when saw Rosemary covering herself with Paul's sheets. "What the fuck?" I shouted. "You slut! And you-" I whipped around, "you pervert."

"Lo, please, I can explain." Rosie climbed out of bed, pulling her dress over her head, not bothering with her bra or panties.

"I invite you to my house and you stab me in the back, explain that!"

She leaned in close to me, the scent of sex on her making me gag. "I thought you of all people would be able to understand." I looked between her and Paul, terrified. He wouldn't tell her about us, he wouldn't tell anyone, would he? "I had to get over my first, just like you did." I sighed with relief, but my anger didn't lessen. "That's the only reason you dated Gallagher, isn't it?"

"What's the reason you dated me?" Gally had snuck up behind me silently, or maybe I couldn't hear him because of the blood pounding in my ears. Behind him, Keith stood at the top of the stairs, arms crossed; he didn't smile, but I could tell he enjoyed the chaos.

Everyone was waiting for me to explain reassure Gally that I loved him, or dump him there on the spot, but I couldn't speak, could scarcely breathe. His feelings had never mattered less to me. Just when I thought this couldn't get any worse, my bedroom door opened, Thelma emerging fully dressed, but with a mauve smear on her lips. It only took a few glances between her and me to realize that it was my lipstick on her mouth. 

"Oh my god," Rosemary gasped.

Gally's face went green as though he might be sick, but he didn't speak, didn't dignify my betrayal with a response. This couldn't have been more humiliating if I'd planned it.

"Get out." When no one responded, I shoved Rosemary hard towards the stairs, Gally just barely catching her before she toppled over. "Everyone get the fuck out of my house." I marched towards my doors, stopping to fix Thelma with an icy stare. "You, too." She attempted to return the glare, but her lower lip revealed her true feelings.

"You heard her," Keith said. "Get lost kids." Then, quieter to me, "I'll be in in a minute."

"No, you leave, too, I want to be alone."

"That's not a good idea."

Everyone's eyes were glued to me, some with anger, others disgust, some concern, but they all felt like judgment. The world seemed distorted like a nightmare, the ceiling sloping downwards, the walls shimmering translucently. "Are you all deaf? I said, 'leave me the fuck alone'."

"I'm not leaving until I get some explanation," Gally said, but his voice was weak, flimsy; he didn't have the nerve to force me to do anything.

Without responding, I slammed the door to my room shut on them all, sliding the bolt into place for good measure. After a moment of silence, the pounding began.

"Come on, love, let me in." Keith.

"I want to make sure you're okay." Paul.

"If you don't come out, I'll never speak to you again." Thelma.

I guess the other two had already left, disgusted with me. I'd be a pariah at St. Peter's for certain. I'd be labeled the cheat, the queer, the whore. Why did I ever leave this bed? Why did I go to Paul's room? Everything would have been fine if I'd stayed with Thelma but I had to go poking my nose where it didn't belong. If I believed in that sort of thing, I'd say he cursed me. No matter how happy I was or how much I loved someone else, he'd always be on my mind, my obsession with him growing like a tumor.

Long after the banging subsided, there was a final knock on my bedroom door. "Lorraine?" Paul again, the only one to stick around. "I know I'm the last person you want to see right now, but could you knock on this door twice, just so I know you're safe in there."

Or what, you'll kick in down? I wouldn't put it past him, so I knocked twice before flopping into bed. I'm sure he thanked me, said he'd see me in the morning, but I couldn't hear him over the scent of Thelma on my sheets. I could feel a migraine starting behind my left eyebrows, spreading like wildfire through my brain. Shoving my face into a pillow, I let out a scream. That scream turned into a wail which eventually devolved into a multi-hour sob, tears burning their way down my cheeks. 

When I could finally think straight, I reached under my mattress, pulling out the journal John gave me with shaking hands, flipping it open to an almost blank page. There was only one thing written on it already: 

This is the worst day of my life.

Finding a pen on my bedside table, I wrote beneath it, almost compulsively: This is the new worst day of my life.