Lost (30 page)

  Quick and without any thought of me, he came inside the condom inside me and then he was finished.
  He did exactly what I wanted, and I hated myself for it.  I wasn't better, and Trent didn't fuck Peter out of my system. 

  Peter was all around me looking at me with sadness and disgust.  Peter was telling me I shouldn't ever be fucked, but that I should be pleasured.  Peter was whispering his love and holding me close even as Trent raised up off the floor and walked to my bathroom to clean up. 

  Peter lowered my dress and fixed the bodice, wrapped me in his arms, and rocked me into the quiet peace I was fighting to maintain.  Peter was all around me again, and deep inside me.  Trying not to cry, I went a little crazy in Peter’s presence.
  Holding in the pain of my loss, I greeted Trent as he walked out the bathroom door, thanked him for coming over with a kiss on the cheek, but told him I had to go out.  I dismissed him, and sadly he let me dismiss him without a fuss. 

  In that one moment between us outside the bathroom I knew without a doubt Trent cared for me as little as I cared for him.  So we each accepted the thanks and the end, and he walked out with a casual, 'see ya later,’ as he zipped his jeans closed and walked out my door as quickly as he had entered.
 
  After closing and locking the door behind him, I remember walking back to my bathroom alone on wobbly legs.  Scrubbing, I showered away anything from between my legs, which I knew wasn’t arousal, but merely lubrication from the condom, and then I entered my room to change.
  I changed into my favorite navy pantsuit, brushed my hair down, fixed my makeup and brushed my teeth.  I walked back to my bed with the framed picture Peter painted of me for my birthday shaking in my hands, and I crawled into my bed with Peter.
 

  With Peter back, I cried and smiled, and talked to him about our lives together.  I told him everything about our future again.  I talked about everything I knew to be true of us, and I told him all I knew and felt about him as I whispered my love to him over and over again.
  I told Peter about everything Kim said, and I explained how I knew she was wrong.  I knew I loved Peter not because he made me less prissy, and not because he was the first guy I had orgasmed with.  I knew she was wrong when she said I was a stuck up bitch who was waiting for Mr. Perfect, because I thought I was perfect.  I knew she was wrong when she said Peter never loved me, but just fucked me good, and I had arrogantly thought he must have felt the same love for me I had felt for him because I was Sophie, and Sophie
always
thought everyone loved her. 

  I told Peter everything Kim said and he agreed with me that she was totally wrong about us.  Peter agreed that he and I were so much more than just fucking, and that we had a love so rare and intense, Kim couldn’t possibly understand it because Peter knew what I knew- Our love was beautiful, real, and absolute.

  Eventually, I even confessed to Peter how badly I had been acting.  I told him about the drunk partying, and the flirty teasing.  I told him about the sad comfort and reassurance I received when men tried to pick me up, but I also told him I did nothing about it.

  I admitted I had kissed a few men at the bars and clubs, but that was all.  I admitted to just a few kisses to get me through missing him, but he understood. 

  Peter smiled sadly, and nodded his head in acceptance.  Peter didn’t judge me or hate me for the few kissing indiscretions, because I think he knew they meant nothing to me.  Peter understood I was just trying to get through the loneliness without him however I could.

  After a little silence between us I asked him about everything his sister had said to me.  I asked him about his life and job, and I asked him why she said I wasn’t safe with him. 

  I asked what part of his life he was screwing up to be with me, but Peter didn’t answer.  Peter offered no explanations, but he did hold me tighter to him in his silence.  He held me together as I cried to him about my sad life without him.
  I cried to Peter and told him I missed him so much I couldn't breathe anymore without him.  I cried to Peter and told him he was my forever and I wouldn't live without him anymore.
  I cried with Peter wrapped tightly around me, holding me safe as I whispered I loved him forever. 

  I cried and closed my eyes, safe in his arms, feeling all the love we shared, knowing the life I couldn’t live without.
 

  And that was the first time I ever tried to commit suicide.

CHAPTER 25

 
But of course I didn't succeed that time because my brother found me 2 hours later in my bed. 

  Steven came back to my place in the early evening to tell me off for all the rotten things I'd said to him and Kim.  Steven returned because even though I had been horrible, he still loved me enough to want to tell me off for being such a bitch, hoping to smack some sense into me in the process.
  Steven found me, his twin sister, OD'd on her bed dressed in a lovely pantsuit, wrapped around the framed picture the love of her life had painted for her when he still adored her months earlier.
 

  When I regained consciousness after having my stomach pumped, and meds pumped into me intravenously for the potential kidney and liver damage, I was finally well enough to talk, which I was good at.

  I managed to convince a doctor and nurse that the pills were accidental because I was having major back pain earlier, and the more pills I took for the pain the less coherent I was remembering how many I had actually taken.  It was horribly accidental I convinced them, and by 11:00 that night I was told I could leave the following morning. 

  I was warned about taking pain killers with alcohol, and I was warned about the dangers of self-medicating back injuries with over the counter meds which I had also lied about.  I had never had a car accident, and I didn't suffer any long term back pain from the made up car accident.  But the story worked.
  After thanking them for their concern, and speaking to a nurse about alternative medicines and therapies for back pain, which I found truly ironic, I was left to sleep in my hospital bed alone. 

  I was finally left alone, in a kind of funny no harm/no foul world where I was still the mature, professional, Sophie Morley who would never be as stupid as some woman who takes painkillers with alcohol to ease the pain in her chest.
  The following morning however, I was greeted by my worst nightmare.

  My parents were waiting with Amy and Kim for the 7:30 visiting hours to begin.
  I was greeted first by my red-faced, weepy eyed mother and my stoic, but sad looking dad, followed by a pale Kim and a crying Amy.  I was greeted by them all as they entered my room quietly. 

  Watching them enter, I wasn’t ready for the potential shitstorm I had created though, so I calmly asked them all to leave me alone, except for my mom.  I asked them all to leave me, and after another tragic pause among them, Kim stepped forward until I shook my head no at her, and Amy immediately left my room crying harder.
  They left eventually without words, and I was faced with just my mom, who I knew I could convince to make the others leave me alone.  So as soon as the door closed behind them, I tried. 

  “Mom, I swear to god this was an accident.  I hurt my back the night before, and I was in tons of pain and I took too many pills stupidly.  It was just an accident, and I promise I'm fine,” I said firmly.
  “Sophie... I really don't believe you, and nobody else does either.  You may have convinced the doctors you're fine, but I think you and I both know you're lying,” she replied just as firmly.  Looking at my mom’s expression I knew in that moment I should have picked my dad to convince, but I tried again anyway.

  “It wasn't on purpose.  I was just in pain after I fell and I guess I had enough alcohol in my system from the night before to cause a bad reaction.  But it wasn't on purpose.”
  My mother stood beside me at that point staring at me undeterred as she questioned, “Why, baby?  What was so bad that you had to do this?”
  “I didn't.  I wouldn’t.  And I need you to believe me!” I cried.
  “Well, I don't.  And if I didn't think you'd hate me forever, I'd push for the 48 hour mandatory psych hold.  But I won’t.  Instead, you're coming home with us, and I'm going to talk to you until you work this shit out.  You're a mess, Sophie, and I love you too much to care if you're pissed at me for trying to help you.  I’m going to help you, because I love you.  And your dad is absolutely beside himself over this desperately wanting to help you, too.”
  “But I didn't do anything!  It was an accident!” I yelled frustrated.
  “Don't you get it?  No matter how old you get, you're still our daughter, and whatever hurts you absolutely
kills
us.  So stop lying to me, and stop lying to yourself.  You're the only one screwed up here.  I'm your mother, and I can fight you any day of the week.  And I'll always win.  So give it up, Sophie,” my mom said without emotion.
  “There's nothing to give up.  It was an accident,” I mumbled lamely.
  But it was clear she was winning and I was losing this battle of wills.  Watching my mom walk to the door and call my dad in, I realized I was totally screwed.
  Grasping at anything, I tried to figure something out quickly as my dad walked back into my room, but I had nothing.

  “Sophie's coming home with us for a few days, and we're going to help her deal with everything that's hurting her.  We're going to help her until she can help herself.  Okay?” She asked my dad who had not spoken but just stood still watching my face as my tears slowly fell.
  “Of course...” He whispered in a choked voice which forced the first sob from my chest.
  “Daddy, this was just a stupid accident, I swear.  I took too many pain killers with some alcohol in my system, but I'm fine.  It was just an accident,” I tried again, but my dad just nodded at me.
  “Are you ready?” My mom asked again without emotion.
  “I just want to go home,” I whined.
  Glaring at me, my mom said again, “You're coming home with us or I'll go talk to the doctor you spoke to last night.  I'll tell him what I really think happened, and we'll see what your options are then.  Would you like that?” My mother asked like a total bitch, and I knew I wouldn't win again, so I gave up.
  Nodding my surrender, I was helped from the bed as we left my room with a nurse pushing me in a wheelchair to my parent's car.
  Moving down the hallway, I noticed the absence of Amy and Kim, and naturally I wondered where my brother was.  But I didn't ask, and I didn't really want to know.
  I assumed Steven was super pissed at me still for all the horrible things I had said, and I couldn't stand the thought of Steven my constant being mad at me on top of everything else I was feeling.
  So leaving, I didn't speak, and neither did my parents the entire drive to their home.  We were silent, and in the silence I realized I would probably never speak of my pain for the rest of my life.
  I didn't need to talk about it because I knew it all and so did Peter.
 

  When we arrived at my parents’ I asked if I could go lie down.  I asked simply with every intention of avoiding their immediate attention.  I asked because just the thought of my parents thinking I had lost it, or that I was weak in some way made me want to scream.  I asked so I could avoid the unavoidable.
  I was a 25 year old, professional woman who was stuck in her parents’ home like a goddamn grounded teenager.  And to be honest, the longer I was with them, the angrier I became. 

  I hated the fact that my mother blackmailed me, and I hated the fact that she was being such a hardass to me.  Actually, if I was being
really
honest, I hated everything about everything and everyone at that time.
  I was so tired of everything, I just wanted to go home to my bed.
 

                                                    *****

  When I woke up a few hours later, my mom was sitting in my room on the window seat. 

  “I'm sorry...” I whispered.  “I didn't really mean to, I was just confused and so sad I didn't want to feel the sad anymore.  But I wasn't really trying to do anything wrong,” I spoke quietly. “I just needed a break from all the pressure and pain...” I cried.
  “What pressure?”
  “Everything.  I just feel like I have to be so good all the time or people won't like me, and I couldn't really handle all the pressure anymore.”
  “Who’s putting pressure on you?” My mom asked leaning forward.
  “Everyone...”
  “Like who?” She persisted.
  “Everyone.  All of you,” I said quietly with a bit of fear.
  Looking at my mom quickly, I waited for a bad reaction, but again she stayed completely calm. “Really?  How so?” She asked.
  “I don't know.  I'm Sophie, I guess.  I've always been good at everything, and I've never failed before and I try to be so good all the time that sometimes it feels like it’s a lot of pressure or something,” I mumbled.
  “That sounds like
you
putting pressure on yourself.  I don't recall a time ever your dad and I asked for perfection, or for you to not fail.  I don't recall ever expecting anything more than you just trying.  Am I wrong?”
  “You didn't
say
it, but I've always been the good twin.  The one who did everything right, and you guys liked me that way because you didn't stress out about me,” I admitted to my mother, who surprised me again with her reaction.