Page 125 of Fervency Love

“Why don’t you ask me to go with you?”

“Because I know you wouldn’t like it. You know, the tent, the bugs, the cold, and the mosquitoes.”

It’s hard to disagree with him—it’s not my vibe—but I’m still sad that he’d rather spend the night with them than with me. That fucked up feeling of rejection again. You’re not good enough for him to want to spend time with you. I feel terrible. Tears are involuntarily coming to my eyes. I can barely put a sentence together, because inside I’m already shaking all over. Every cell in my body is now recalling this awful feeling, again filling me with this terrible emptiness. I can feel myself falling apart.

“Connor, are you aware that this is looking worse and worse? Every day I feel like a fifth wheel. You leave without telling me anything, you treat me like air. What the heck was that on the field last time? You went off without me, without letting me know you would be gone. And when I finally found you, you acted like I was invisible. What the fuck are you playing at again? Are you bored or are your buddies messing with your head again? I don’t want to constantly compete for your attention, because as you can see, I’m already losing.”

“What are you talking about, Abigail? You never let me do anything.”

Damn, he’s right. That’s the fear of what must inevitably come. And it does come. Paradoxically, the more I try to forbid him in order to get things under control, the more he slips out, suffocating. I, at least, would do that. It might make sense, butright now I can’t handle it, so I do the only thing I do best in a crisis situation—I get hysterical.

“Connor, if you go, I’m going home.”

“Abigail, if you go now, I won’t come to you again.”

I fall into an abyss that welcomes me with open arms.

“Your choice, Connor.”

I turn on my heel and head off, away from him. I need to calm down. He doesn’t follow me, which pushes me even further into the clutches of the dark void of pain and fear.

When I lift my head, I see that I have reached the pitch. Familiar faces are playing volleyball, so I decide to join in. I need to unwind.

“Hey, Lizz, can I join in?”

“Sure, come on in, we were down one person anyway.”

After twenty minutes I feel better. A few spikes and tips allow me to calm my tangled thoughts. I’m turning toward the pitch when I bump into someone taller than me. I immediately know who it is, as a familiar current sweeps through my body. I raise my head and meet Ve’s inscrutable gaze.

“What are you doing here? You said you wouldn’t come.”

“I’m not here for you. It’s not my fault you’re here.”

His words hurt my heart, piercing it to the core. I feel humiliated, I want to escape as quickly as possible. Tears flow into my eyes again. I try to squeeze past him, but he grabs my hand.

“Hey, where are you going?”

I don’t want to look at him. I try to break out of his grasp. No chance. He pulls me close and embraces me around the waist. This affectionate gesture momentarily melts my anger. He is the only person who has the ability to kill me in an instant and bring me back to the living. I hate myself for letting him have such power over me. I have absolutely no strong will when it comesto him. Just a glimpse of those beautiful eyes, one smile and I’m doomed.

If he goes camping, I’m not going to survive. I know, it’s sick, but it’s beyond me. What happened in my childhood that makes me react so hysterically? I mean—I’ve already discovered a lot of factors that contributed to me being so messed up now, but some behaviors I still can’t grasp. Much less control.

Chapter 64

Abby

The school year has ended. I’m happy with myself. An average above four will make it easier for me to achieve what I’ve set out to do. I have met all the conditions necessary to achieve my goals. Now all I have to do is to get a minimum of B in the mock exams and an A on the finals, so that I will be exempted from the oral exams, which I’d otherwise fail. Too much stress. It’s easier with math, because it’s all about sitting down and solving tasks, and then just talk about it based on the calculations on the paper. With my mother tongue it’s worse, because the examiners can ask about anything from the last four years, and I didn’t like absolutely any of the readings—I have no idea what was in them. If I write it well enough, I’ll get it over with.

It’s my eighteenth birthday in a week and a half. I can’t wait. I’m planning to get a tattoo, though that depends on whether I can raise the full amount.

I made it! I did two parties. One for family and the other for friends. I got a pair of lovely platform sandals from Grandma.Their soles are made of brown decorated plastic, the texture resembling the trunk of a tree, covered in woodworm-made patterns. The top is blue suede, and the bases have African beads in various colors sewn in. The shoes are more than beautiful. They’re unique! I’m over the moon about them. I also got a CD with my favorite music and cash, of course.

“Abby, I still think it’s a very bad idea.”

“You’re exaggerating, Connor. I’ve wanted to do this forever, and now I have the opportunity.”

All the way to Crown, Ve has been bitching at me, suggesting that the tattoo is a bad idea. But I persisted. I want it, and I want it now.

“I’ll do it with or without you; I won’t change my mind.”

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