Page 127 of Stroked Long
I cry into my pillow, my agony pouring out of me, my heart breaking. The pain encompasses me, my vision turns black, my outlook on life bleak. Everything that was once colorful is now dull, monochromatic, cold.
I stare at the ceiling, my tears blurring my vision. From the nightstand, my phone rings, pulling me out of my self-imposed despair.
Eva.
“Hello,” I answer, my throat tight with emotion.
“Did you see him?”
“Yeah.” I barely get the word out.
“Oh, Ruby. Are you okay?”
“No,” I squeak.
“I’ll be right over.”
I don’t even bother putting my phone back on my nightstand, I lie there with it in my hand, unable to hold back another wave of tears.
This isn’t really the end, is it?
You have no fucking clue what love is.His venomous words echo through my head, like little needles, reminding me of my loss.
It hurts. It hurts so fucking bad.
Before I know it, Eva’s arms are wrapped around me, and she’s scooting behind me in my bed. My eyes burn as I try to open them. They’re so heavy with mourning that I don’t bother, I keep them shut and bask in the warmth of a friend.
“What happened?” she whispers. And then I hear her say, “Get a warm washcloth for her.” Lauren must be here too. What would I do without them?
My bathroom sink runs in the background as Eva coaxes me again. “Ruby, sweetheart, talk to me. What happened?”
“He . . . he wants nothing to do with me,” I stutter, my heart snapping in my chest.
“Fuck.” A warm washcloth presses against my eyes, and I welcome the heat.
“I thought,” I gasp, trying to control the hiccups that want to come out, “I thought maybe he would lean on me rather than push me away, but I was wrong.” I sniffle and then say, “I told him I love him and he told me I don’t know what love is.”
“Oh, Ruby.” Eva squeezes me tightly, and the end of my bed dips as Lauren scoots close to me and holds one of my hands. “He’s not in a good place right now. Don’t take it to heart.”
“How can I not?” I ask sarcastically. “I’m the one person he should want to talk to, the one he should want to come to when he’s feeling so distraught, but instead, he pushed me away. I can’t take the rejection.” I start to sob.Get that through your head, Ruby. I’m fucking nothing. We are fucking nothing. It’s over.I don’t want to get that through my head.It’s over.“It’s too much. I love him . . .”
Chapter Twenty-Four
BODI
Scrub, scrub, scrub.
Fuck! No matter how many times I run my bristle brush over the tile in my entryway, it doesn’t look clean. It looks dirty, so fucking dirty.
My knees hurt from kneeling, my shoulders ache from the constant scrubbing motion, and my condo is in complete disarray. I see the curtains I bought strewn across the floor; pillows, magazines, and throw blankets are tossed about the room in my attempt to clean, but it only seems to get worse. I can’t focus on any part of my condo. When I look around, all I can see is dirt, grime, fucking chaos.
Just like my life . . .
But this entryway, this fucking tile, it won’t come clean. I noticed right after Ruby stopped by my condo, her eyes soaked in tears, her lip trembling.
Fuck.
I scrub harder, so fucking hard that I bend the bristles back, so now the plastic handle is doing all the work against the tile.
