The first shots of the war had been fired. I had stupidly
made a joke about it not being rape if you say surprise. Personally, I did not
think that much of it and if anything, it was offensive because of its lack of
humor. Zach thought it was not funny for another reason though. He viewed it as
malicious joke aimed directly at him and took personal offense to it; as he did
anytime the word was mentioned in conversation. I know most people do not have
regular conversations about the subject, but anytime the word ever came up Zach
would get pissy. That was not the problem though, or at least my problem with
him. I was mad at Zach because he had admitted to saying the same joke, and
then alleged that I had been mean to Carson when I had been nice to him all
semester. Zach was once a good moral person, but he had changed so much in the
last few months that he was no longer the person I once knew. I never wanted it
to come to this, but he left me no choice.
Call it foresight if you want, but in the days following
the joke incident I was glad that a small bar now resided in my closet. I made
good use of the copious amount of liquor I had returned with from my brother’s
house. I went on a weeklong binge of drunkenness, to numb the pain and calm my
nerves to avoid further aggravating the situation by going off on Zach or
Carson. I would have liked nothing more than to yell at one of them, especially
Zach. In my mind, I played repeatedly what I would say, but never did. I had
chosen to take the high road, the best road for my other friends. If I was to
initiate conversation, it could pan out either two ways. First, everything
could go back to the way things were before, a one-lane road with me always
pulling off to the side to let every time Zach and I met head-on. Alternatively,
neither of us could get over and we have a major head-on collision possibly
resulting in many fatalities, least of all our friendship. Instead, I opted for
the other option, I was going to wait him out, make him come to me. Surely, he
would see the wrongs of his ways, especially with me self-destructing. My drinking
binge was not only a form of self-medication, but it had an ulterior motive. If
there were even a slight bit of my old friend left, he would take pity in my
downward spiral and try to help me; otherwise, if I were wrong he would leave
me to self-destruct. It seemed perfect in my mind, but reality is often far
from ideal.
I was naive and desperately optimistic. After the planned
duration of one week passed, I was forced to realize that my old friend truly
was gone. The only part of him left was his body, a shell of his former self. He
never checked on me or showed a remote interest in my welfare, instead he tried
to ostracize me, as he did with Hunter. At first, it worked and I became a
recluse, only leaving my room when necessary. I soon realized that I had other
people in my life that I could talk to. There was actually one person in
particular who knew exactly what I was going through. Zach, Carson, Hunter, and
I had statistics and geology together, with John joining us for stats and Laura
for geology. No longer did I have any reason to be mad at Hunter, since the
main reason for me being mad was because of Zach, and we were no longer talking.
Hunter and I had remained on speaking terms because I often sat beside him in
class to act as a buffer between him and Zach and Carson.
I had missed Tuesday’s geology class because I was drunk
(see Drinking
Binge Part 1 & Part
2). By Thursday, I
had moved my drinking to the evenings and showed up to class, plus we had a
quiz. After class Hunter and I walked around for a while talking. I realized
that Zach had a tendency to distort the truth, so I wanted to know his side of
the story. He told me what had happened, and it turned out that Hunter was not
evil or maniacal, maybe a little bonkers there for a little while, but nothing
too drastic. They had tried their best to make him out to be a sadistic mad
man, and they almost succeeded, if it was not for the joke. From that point on,
Hunter and I became good friends and he helped me a lot to cope with the Zach
and Carson situation.
I was rather proud of myself; I finally had made it over
the first hurdle and came to accept that Zach and my friendship was over. I
will not lie, I was still somewhat optimistic that one day we might become
friends again; but as the days of silence worn on into weeks and the weeks into
months, it became increasingly obvious that it was not going to happen. I had
relaxed my embargo of talking to John about Zach and Carson; but I still did
not want to force him to choose a side as Zach was doing. The more that I
talked to John the more I realized that he was the opposite of Zach; and what
he had said about him. He was not a dim-witted automaton incapable of original
thought. Sometimes, during our talks, I would find myself taken aback by a much
deeper John than I ever knew existed. I relished in these moments as relics of
a bygone era, but mostly I enjoyed utter simplicity of it all. Mostly while
talking to John, everything was simple and real. Maybe because I had sworn to
not force him to choose a side, and that acknowledgement of his free will
affected our whole relationship, but our conversations remained common
discussions instead of resulting in full scholarly arguments. If I wanted a
very intense scholarly argument I always had Hunter, but for the most part John
and my friendship remained a much welcomed solace with a mutual respect for one
another in which both of us were free to formulate our own opinions. This is
why I finally let down my guard and started to talk to John about my annoyances
with Zach and Carson, and there were many.
One thing in particular had been bothering me as of late.
It seemed that ever since the brick wall of silence had went up between Zach
and me that I noticed every single fault of his. Faults that I had previously
noticed and dismissed as small blemishes and filled with the wax of friendship
now appeared as ghastly scars. I was seeing the sincere Zach for the first
time, and I did not like it. Zach had never been one to pick up after himself,
and would leave things lying about until someone else picked them up, he just
did not care about such things. He had a high propensity to entirely forget
about something, and our refrigerator was affected most by this. He would often
leave a bottle of soda with only one swallow left sitting in the refrigerator
long after he had already purchased a new bottle. He also did this with any other
drink of his, which was mostly chocolate milk. A gallon of chocolate milk, with
only one small sip left, once sat in the fridge ruining whilst three other full
jugs replaced it. This would be gross, but fine if he lived alone; but with
three other people, sharing the same refrigerator things can get somewhat
crowded. One evening I went into the kitchen to fix a glass of root beer. I
stood there staring at our crammed full refrigerator, searching its contents
for my bottle of root beer. My god, how
does a fridge get this packed full of shit? Oh yeah, I live with a slob. I
glanced over each bottle until I finally found the one I was looking for
sitting in the very back of the fridge behind a jug of chocolate milk and a
bottle of soda with half a sip left. I reached in to retrieve my soda and for
the third time this week accidentally knocked out the virtually empty soda
bottle that had graced our fridge with its presence for a month now. You got to be fucking kidding me, again…not
no more, I thought as I picked the bottle up off the floor and tossed it in
the trash. I filled my cup full of root beer and headed back into my room, not
thinking anything about it.
Later on that evening, as John and I sat in the living
room talking with Laura and Morgan, Zach and Carson came home with Molly
tagging along behind them. They had been out for most of the day; and Zach went
directly to the fridge and stared inside before asking, “What happened to my
bottle of Dr. Pepper?”
I was standing up by now and confidently replied, “It is
in the trash, where it belongs.”
He walked over to the trashcan, got out his almost empty
bottle of soda, and said in a snide tone, “You shouldn’t mess with things that
aren’t yours!”
I do not know why, maybe it was his tone, but his words
hit me with cold contempt and before I even knew what I was saying I blurted
out, “You shouldn’t be a self-centered ass with no regards for anybody else,
but you are!”
Every eye in the room was on us as he replied, “If it
isn’t yours then don’t touch it!” in a condescending tone.
His words sent white-hot fury rushing through my veins,
“That mean you’re gonna throw it away yourself! Like the fucking gallon of
chocolate milk that has been sitting in the fridge for a month!”
“I’ll throw it out when I feel like it, but if it isn’t
yours then don’t touch it!” he repeated with a particular air of superiority
that caused my blood to finally boil.
“No you won’t! You’ll leave it in there just like you did
with the soda, even after it goes bad, getting in the damn way everytime
someone tries to get something.” He tried to interrupt me but determined to
make him listen to me I got louder as I went on, “Because you’re a disgusting
slob who’s too goddamn lazy to throw it in the fucking trash!” Again, he tried to cut in and I only got louder
until I was yelling, “OTHER PEOPLE LIVING HERE TOO! BUT I FORGOT YOU DON’T GIVE
A DAMN ABOUT ANYBODY BUT YOURSELF AND YOU BOYFRIEND, YOU SELF-CENTER
HYPOCRITICAL LYING PIECE-OF-SHIT! YOU’RE A PITIFUL EXSCUCE FOR A HUMANBEING AND
YOU MAKE ME SICK!”
I knew I was losing my temper and was going to either say
or do something that I regretted in a few moments. I was so furious that I was
shaking as images of me pounding in Zach’s skull kept racing through my mind.
It was not just the empty bottle of soda or the expired gallon of chocolate
milk; it was everything. I had never actually expressed all of my wrath at him
for the perpetual state of misery that I now lived in. I was about to lose it,
and I knew it. I suddenly became aware of everyone staring at me and a wave of
humiliation rushed over me, like a bucket of water quenching a raging inferno.
I had to get away from him, from everyone. I quickly walked passed him and went
straight for the solitude of my room and slammed the door behind me.
Inside my room, I finally took a breath as a wave of
emotions rolled over me. I was still pissed, growing even madder now that I had
the time to think about it. I was embarrassed for losing my temper and even
madder at Zach for causing me to. Breath,
just breath, in…out…in—I don’t want to fucking breath. I want to—WHAM! OWWW! Something about the pain in my
hand calmed my mind enough to realize I needed to talk to someone. My bed made
a loud racket as a flopped down on it. I picked up my cell phone from the
nightstand and pressed 5 for the Winter Cottage. My dad picked up and I told
him while trying to fight back tears of anger, “I need to talk to mum.” He did
not question me and seconds later, I heard the soothing voice of my mum on the
other line.
She rightly wanted to know what was going on and I
replied through held back angry tears, “I got in an argument with Zach.”
“About what?” She asked.
“Because… HE IS A FUCKING DISGUSTING SLOB AND I HATE HIM!”
I replied as my anger streamed down my face.
I heard my dad worriedly ask in the background, “What’s
going on?”
My mum, trying to stay true to her promise not to tell
him and simply said, “He’s been going through some stuff with his roommates
getting on his nerves.”
“You can tell him,” I told her, “I don’t care who knows
anymore, here, I’ll tell him myself. Hold out the phone. MY ROOMMATES ARE
FAGGOTS!”
It took some time, but she finally got me calmed down before
I got off the phone with her.
By the time I hung up it was almost midnight February 18;
I only remember the date because the next day was my brother’s birthday. I knew
he would probably be up, because he was supposed to have a weekend long
birthday bash, so I called to be able to wish him a happy birthday. He was
about half past drunk when he finally answered the phone. While wasting time
until midnight I told him what had happened and he coolly replied, “Damn!” and
sort of slightly slurred along as we talked some more before finally wishing
him a happy birthday and getting off the phone.
After
I had finally cooled down completely I texted Molly, Laura, Morgan, and John
and apologized for blowing up like that. They did not really seem to mind and
just said it was okay. I did not go outside of my room any more that night,
except to pee and get something to drink—during which I noticed the jug of
expired chocolate milk and the empty bottle of soda were in the trashcan. There
was no one in the living room when I went out there, but John came out of his
room as I was going into mine. We talked a few minutes, but I was not really in
the mood to talk, and I bid him goodnight and returned to my bed before falling
asleep.
In
the days following Zach and my fallout over the chocolate milk I kept getting a
feeling that no one wanted to be around me. I went over to Laura and Morgan’s
apartment and got the feeling that they did not want me there. I did not know
what it was, after everything we all had seemed to be getting along fine. Now
all of a sudden I felt unwelcome, which was strange, especially when it came
from Laura. Morgan I could understand a fair amount of annoyance by my presence,
or at least I used to could have; but since the beginning of the semester we
had gotten along fine. After a few more visits and still getting the ‘go away’
vibe, I finally caught Laura outside and asked if they were mad at me. She told
me that the other night when Zach and I had gotten into it, after I left Zach
had told them all things that I had said about them. That rat bastard.
“Really,
like what?” I asked.
“He
said that you had said Morgan was an over emotional bitch, you called me a
whore, and you said John was bad at sports,” she said.
“Oh…,”
I did not really know what to say.
“I
really don’t care what you call me, if you think that I’m a whore that is fine.
I’m not, but whatever, but I am more angry at you called Morgan a bitch. She
may be over emotional at times, but she definitely is not a bitch.”
“I
know, but I don’t remember ever calling you a whore or her a bitch, unless…,”It
popped into my head, “Oh my god, I said that about Morgan like at the very
beginning of first semester, when she thought I was a dick and I thought she
was an over emotional bitch. I don’t
ever remember calling you a whore though.”
“It’s
alright, I mean I have only had sex with a few guys, I know I’m not a whore so
I really don’t care what people think.”
“But
I don’t think that of you, I liked you remember. I don’t like girls that I
think are whores. You do have a high sex drive, and talk about it a lot, which
can give off the impression that you are a whore. But I know you’re not.”
“I
can’t help that, if I was a man and went sleeping around then people would
think I was the shit.”
“I
would still consider them a man whore, but yeah people would think better of
it. Yeah it’s a double standard and unfair, but that is life. But I don’t think
you’re a whore, I don’t even remember ever calling you one—now that I think of
it I think it might have been Zach, never mind—if I ever did though, I
apologize, I’m sorry.”
“What
about Zach?”
“I
don’t want to go into details because I might be wrong, but now that I think of
it, I’m pretty sure it was Zach calling you a whore and I was the one defending
you with that very argument.”
“Oh…”
“Yeah.
I can’t believe he took everything I have ever said and completely took it out
of context. Now I need to talk and apologize to Morgan.”
She
said, “Yeah you probably should,” before going back inside.
I
stuck my head inside their apartment and asked Morgan to come outside so that I
could talk to her. She came out a few seconds later and I asked, “What all did
Zach say I said about you?”
She
was slightly caught off guard but answered, “He said that you called me an over
emotional bitch.”
I
remember saying that, I took a deep breath before saying, “Oh boy. Yeah, I remember
something to that effect. I’m sorry, but I would like to offer you some context
for that statement, if you would allow me to. There is no real excuse for it,
you’re a nice person and I should not have said that. So can I do that?”
“Yeah
I guess.”
“Okay,
remember last semester when all that stuff was going on with Molly and I could
not stand her and you kept getting mad at me for ‘being mean.’”
“Yeah.”
“Well
it was during then. I didn’t really know you and you came into our apartment
getting all pissy about me being mean to her and telling me to be nice,” I said.
“Well
to me back then, that was you being overly emotional, because you were getting
mad at something that did not concern you. And I thought you were a bitch because
you were standing up to me. I shouldn’t have said that.”
“We
barely even knew each other then.”
“Yeah
I know, I judged a book by its cover. But now that I have actually read the
book, or at least gotten to know you better, I see how wrong I was. I have
spent pretty much all semester trying to be a better person. I am…strangely as
it may sound…actually trying to be more like you.”
“What
do you mean?”
“I
have spent far too long ignoring my emotions until I have become a hollowed
tube, but you have a beautiful spirit, you actually give a damn about people
that I hope to someday have. I’m sorry that I was too stupid then to see it. I
know I shouldn’t of said that, but now that it is put into context, it ain’t
quite as bad is it?”
“You
shouldn’t have said it, but no it ain’t as bad now.”
We
talked for a little while longer before she went inside and I returned to my
apartment.
When
I walked inside, I found John standing in front of the mirror brushing his
teeth.
I
knew that Zach had told him things that I had long ago said, or misconstrued
what I actually said to make me look evil. I told him what had just happened
with Laura and Morgan before asking him what they said I said about him. He
said, “Zach said that you said I was bad at sports and that I want amount to
nothing.”
“Really?
Okay, I really don’t remember ever saying that you were outright bad at sports
and even if I did, really I suck at sports and don’t even care about them, how
the hell would I know if you sucked or not. All of my judgment would be based
on our flag football team and come on we all sucked. But you were actually one
of the better players.”
Apparently
satisfied with my answer he said, “Oh.”
“What
was the next one?”
“You
said I would never amount to anything.”
“Again
I don’t really remember ever saying that. If I did, it must have been sometime
last year when all I knew about you was what Zach and Molly had told me. And I’ll
be honest I thought you were a tool. But I don’t think you will never amount to
anything, I would not have anything to do with you if I did.”
“I
did not think that you said that, or at least that is what I figured.”
“Yeah,
leave it to Zach to misconstrue everything you have ever told him and use it
against you. Hell half of the things that he alleged that I said, I remember
him saying.”
“I
figured that.”
“But
thanks for not believing it, was there anything else that I allegedly once
said?” I asked hoping that the answer was no.
“There
was one more thing,” oh god, “you
said I was bad imitation of Zach.”
After
figuratively scratching my head for a few moments I remember it, “Yeah I said that
or at least something to that effect.”
He
quizzically looked at me, shocked at my candor, “Why would you say that?”
“Well
it’s true. When I said that I still wanted my old friend back and you just were
not him. You are ‘a poor replacement for Zach’ because well, you’re not him,
now I am glad you’re not him. So yeah, you are a bad replacement for Zach, but
I am glad you are.”
He
stood there for a moment, taking in all that I had just said before replying,
“Oh…okay.”
It
was true, John was nothing like Zach, but I was glad that he was not. I had
worked so tirelessly to keep my friendship with Zach that I had forgot what I
was actually working for. I was trying to single handedly maintain a
friendship, when friendships should not require maintenance, or at least not
only from one person. That is what I found most comforting in my newly realized
friendships; they were relatively maintenance free. Zach had tried to hurt me
by telling them that I had said all of those horrible things, but if anything,
he helped me. He helped me realize that I had real friends, and I did not need
his sorry ass. I lived constantly surrounded by someone I had the utter most
contempt for in my own personal hell. No one person made life bearable; it was
actually four: Morgan, Laura, Hunter, and most of all John. None of them was
the friend I wanted; but they were the friends I needed.
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