I've Lost the Power to Feel

I stand staring at my father's now-empty hospital bed for what seems like hours. People had come in awhile ago and taken my dad's body away, but I can almost see him there....

Images of my dad race past my vision, from his messy hair from when he would wake up early on Saturday mornings to watch cartoons with Vic and I, to the look of sheer delight and pride on his face when I walked away with my first blue ribbon at a horse show. I miss the goofy baby voice he used when talking to my horse and his fabulous chocolate chip pancakes on Sunday mornings. I miss him too much to bear.

The sun sits low in the sky when my mother finally hooks her arm around mine and leads me out of that godforsaken room. I felt nothing. Sadness is there, of course, but it's very fuzzy, like a giant cloud of cotton balls. I forgot my pain medication at home in my rush, so I feel a faraway throbbing in my heart and in my head.

I take time off from my job as I hole up in my room, simply lying on my bed. Time is a blur, a dream almost. I don't know how many days it has been, it could have been months for all I know. I don't eat; neither Maya nor I have the heart to make anything, even something simple like microwave soup. Eventually, I pass out, and wake up feeling even worse than I did before I crashed. I keep sleeping, since the darkness takes away some of the pain of thought.

I remember being pulled from my blanket of pseudo-sanity and comfort. The culprit is Maya, shaking me awake on a Monday morning, which, I don't know. Unlike me, Maya perseveres through things relatively quickly, bouncing to her regular self in an unimaginable amount of time. In a way, I'm jealous of her.

"Wake up, baby cakes. It's been five days since you've walked out of this bedroom," Maya declares in the nicest voice I've ever heard her speak in. "You have to get up, Jordan."

"No." I state to my best friend rudely as I roll over to face the wall.
The next thing I know I'm being tugged off the bed along with all of my blankets and a Queen song is blasting from my radio. I flip out. Maya knows I have a special dislike for Queen, and she readily ignores it. "What is [i]wrong[/i] with you?!" I scream at her over Freddie Mercury's exceedingly annoying voice.

"Nothing, you just need to get your lazy ass out of your pity party!" She yells back.

"I am NOT having a pity party!" I chuck a pillow at her as she rummages through the drawers of my dresser.

"Whatever. You do, however, smell like a cow, so go take a shower." She tosses a clean towel on my desk chair. I stumble off my bed and angrily snatch the towel off the chair, giving Maya a death glare as I drag myself to the bathroom. I will admit, after five days, a shower feels pretty damn good. So does brushing my teeth. Ick ick ick.

After getting sort of ready for the day, I saw Maya has laid out the bunny tank top she had gotten for me for my birthday a few years ago and jean shorts for me to wear. Woo, normal clothes. I trot into the kitchen with more energy in my step, when my nose detects food. I am hungry as shit-- not eating for five days has taken its toll. I cheer when I see Maya has made me ramen noodles, my MSG-loaded weakness. I was the typical college student, I swear it's an addiction; I eat that shit for breakfast, literally. I sit down with a plop and practically inhale the bowl.

"Once you're done vacuuming your food there, you're going over to Ashton's and telling him what happened to Dad. You know how much he respects him." Maya doesn't look up from buttering her toast as she speaks.

I choke on a noodle. "You're kidding! Nobody told him?"

"Mom and I thought it'd be best if you told him."

"Right." I reply sarcastically. I was barely able to get out of bed, and now I have to spread the news? [i]Whatever[/i]. I get up and headed out the door. I'm too lazy to take my meds, so technically I can drive, right?

My car is awesome for several reasons, but one reason why I fucking love this car is because Dad helped me buy it. My mom said, since she paid for driver's ed and my license, I have to pay for my first car. At 16, I barely had a job, so I was pretty down for a while. Driving Mom's minivan was not something that was fun for me. Then Dad found the car and whatever I couldn't pay for he paid for himself. Vipers in good condition aren't easy to come by. My dad is, was, the best.

I drive slowly, still irritated that I have to actually go places today. I mean, I love seeing Ashton, but honestly, I just want to lay down on the couch all day eating junk food and watching The Lion King. I begin to park when I notice that the spot I am trying to park in is taken. There's a dark green sedan parked next to Ashton's red Ford Focus, where I usually park. Weird, he didn't mention anyone would be over this week... Maybe it's Nick; he has a habit of just, coming over. It is irritating sometimes, especially when he crashes something, er, intimate, but he was pretty chill so it doesn't matter much. I am pretty in tune with Ashton's messy schedule, although unexpected visitors are expected.

I knock on the door of his apartment, but knowing how video games go, he won't answer it for two weeks. I pick the lock for the thousandth time, wondering why the hell he doesn't just give me a freaking spare key. I enter the messy apartment without ceremony. There's one of Ashton's oxfords thrown haphazardly on the couch; a grey one that I really like. Ashton has no respect for clothing when he's not wearing it. I shake it out and fold it nicely, although it's still wrinkly. He leaves his shit everywhere. How do I deal with this man?

I am about to turn the knob on Ashton's bedroom door when I step on a Pepto-Bismol-pink lacy bra. What the hell... I think as I shove the stubborn door open with my shoulder. I look up and my heart stops beating.

There's Ashton.

My boyfriend.

Kneeling on the bed, naked, with some black-haired chick sucking his dick.

What the hell.

I drop the folded Oxford in shock. I probably look like a fucking hippopotamus with my mouth gaping. I cannot not believe it. We had been together for nine years. Nine. That's a damn long time. And here he is, getting a blowjob from some random whore.

"Jordan, I--this isn't what it looks like..." Ashton stands up and stumbles in my direction,all but shoved to the side, his hands trying to cover his manhood. I have seen it plenty of times, goodness knows why he's being such a coward.

My hands are balled into fists so tight the whites of my knuckles are showing. I feel my nails begin to break into my skin. "Not what it looks like. Sure," I begin to mock Ashton to try to hide the fact that I'm crying. "No, Jordan, don't take it to heart, I'm just getting a fucking blowjob from a fucking whore off the streets.You're full of bullshit, Ashton Kelly. I cam here to tell you about Dad, and here you're fucking the hell out of someone. He's dead, and I see I'm dead to you as well." I seethe. Angry tears shred down my cheeks. I am infinitely shocked. "Goodbye. You won't be forgiven for this. Ever. And that's being generous."

Ashton tries to say something else but I flip him off. He clasps his hand on my arm, pleading in his green eyes. I punch him with a rock-hard and probably bloody fist in his bony jaw. I hear a crack and he falls to his knees.

"Don't touch me with your dirty hands." I slam the door and I run out of his house with a small steak knife in hand. Everything is blurry and faded, my thoughts of rage are finally drowned out by the need for alcohol. I drive until I stumbled across a liquor store near Ashton's. I buy as much hard alcohol as I could pay for in the cash that I have on me. I drive as fast as I can home, noting that Maya has left for work.

I lock the door to the bathroom, everything hazy, and drink myself to oblivion. I still have the knife, and it's so sharp that I don't even feel the crimson lines forming on my arms. I cry and cry. I can't wrap my head around the fact that the most prominent men in my life are now both gone, within a week.

It's 1 in the morning when Maya knocks on the door. I am immobile, my face smashed on the off-white tiles. My hand can no longer hold the half-drunk bottle of vodka and it clinks on the floor and rolls. The bathroom door opens if you jimmy it enough, and I close my eyes and wait for the impending intrusion. The only emotion on Maya's face is shock. I am completely wasted; my makeup is smeared down my face and streaks of scarlet cover my left forearm. I start sobbing grossly and my best friend helps drag me to my bed. I vaguely notice Maya prying Ashton's steak knife from my unrelenting fingers. The last thing I remember is my head hitting the pillow.

I wake in a daze around noon with a pounding hangover. What the hell happened to me.... I wonder. It then floods over me like an ocean, the water infused with pain and hurt. I fumble for the bottle of pain medication and dry swallow three. Although I never throw up or anything as crappy as that, I rarely drink because I deplore hangovers. I change into flannel pants and a grey hoodie and shuffle to the bathroom to brush my teeth in order to feel kind of human. I continue into the kitchen, rubbing my head. Maya is lounging at the table, reading a Vince Flynn novel. She puts it down heavily when she sees me.

"Dude, what happened last night? What happened to your arm? Why were you drinking?"

I sit down opposite her, covering my ears. "Quit yelling, stupid," I growl. I try to ignore the fact that a hangover makes everything louder, but Maya is asking too many questions.

"To sum it up, Aston was cheating on me with some damned whore and I walked in on him getting his cock sucked and I couldn't handle it, so I got wasted as fast as possible." I grit my teeth, sparing her the lame details.

"I will cut his balls off with safety scissors."

"I grabbed that knife from his kitchen." I gesture to the still-bloody knife on the countertop. "I guess I wanted to stab him, or maybe myself, but I didn't get around to it."

Maya hugs me as I sniff and cradle my cut arm. I make a mental note to bandage it. "You poor thing. He doesn't deserve to live. I'm going to his house this instant and give him what he deserves." She stands up hurriedly and storms out the door, the screen slamming in her wake.

"Don't kill him," I yell halfheartedly out the door as I get up to search for something for my wrist. I hear her growl something akin to 'I'll do my best' as I sit on the couch with a bucket of ice cream and a wrap. I start the Indiana Jones series and try to not think about what just transpired.

Notes

Chapter Numero Cinco everyone. Leave a vote and a comment. Questions, comments, and criticisms are welcome!

Madi