Chapter 4 - I miss you too.

I suggest you listen to this while reading: http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=IakDItZ7f7Q

  “Effenie, I’m so sorry, is it really that hard on you?” Grace comforts as I rest my head on her shoulder and sob. It was the next day, he was a one-night stand and I was still mourning over Bren. I was probably in shock, or crying over the way he died, but tears continuously spill from my eyes and onto my cousin’s shirt. I’m hugging her way too hard when there’s a knock at the front door. Grace walks me over to the couch and sits me down, squeezing my shoulder gently. She leaves to get the door, when I hear it open, then close just as fast. Grace comes around the couch and into view with a big, toothy grin on her face. I wipe my eyes with my hand, only to see that my mascara has already started running.

    “Who’s at the door?” I sniffle as Grace sits beside me on the couch.

     Her smile stays, “Oh, no one.”

    “Effenie? It’s me,” a voice calls from the door, muffled, but recognizable. It’s not just any voice, it’s Erik’s. I glare at Grace and stand up, walking to the door and opening it with blurry eyes. He looked the same as he did yesterday, just… Clothed. He sees my mascara and tear stained face and pulls me into a big, warm hug. I cry on his shoulder for a while and tell myself I’d never felt more comforted or safe in another one’s arms. Soon enough, I have no more tears to spill, but I stay next to Erik, with his arm draped around my shoulders. When Grace turns towards the kitchen and away from us, he kisses my cheek softly and my mood shifts slowly. I become more relaxed.

     “So, uh, Erik… I thought you two weren’t really… Friends anymore,” Grace states, prepping the coffee machine. I tense up again. Oh shit, I didn’t have an explanation as to why Erik and I were still friends. Hell, I didn’t even know why I’d given in so easily to him. Maybe I’d felt insecure. Maybe sex was the only solution. I highly doubted that last thought. I mean, sure, I’d gotten “it” on with Bren, a total stranger and a few guys throughout university (including Erik), but in this generation, who didn’t? I wasn’t sex-obsessed; I would like to think myself as being a romantic. Only thing I would ever have to watch would be my alcohol consumption. Maybe I let him in so quickly because thinking of Emilie made me feel vulnerable. I could never reveal what happened to anyone but myself, I couldn’t even accept what happened was real. I couldn’t accept that I stood by stupidly while Emilie… I can’t think of it anymore. My head spins crazily and I grab onto Erik’s shoulder for support.

“We uh, have gotten over our differences and we’ve decided on being friends,” he answers coolly. Friends? More like friends with benefits. I smirk at my thoughts and get shot confused looks from both of them.

   “Well, a friend of Eff’s is a friend of mine,” Grace says bitterly, grimacing. She pours three mugs of steaming coffee and hands one to me. She picks up the last two mugs and shoves one into Erik’s hand. A small dark wave of coffee spills over the rim of the porcelain mug and onto his wrist. A smile spreads on Grace’s face and she takes a sip of her own mug.

 

     “Oops, sorry,” she says, pulling herself onto the island and letting her legs dangle. I scowl at her and grab a cloth, to wipe the coffee from his skin, which has already burned and turned red. I rub the cloth gently along his wrist, and then quickly squeeze his hand. Why had we broken up? Differences… Differences in opinion? Probably. I remember instantly. It’s like that saying, ‘It’s not you, it’s me’, except in my case, it was actually true. I was angry one night, not at him, but at myself. I was angry at my frustration for an assignment in university. I remember I was screaming, and he was trying to calm me down. Then, without thinking straight, I broke it off, locked myself in without him. In tears, I told him I had to concentrate on myself, no distractions. Then, he simply walked out of the apartment, speechless. 

Ever since then, I’d felt empty, and I had been meaning to call and talk to him, but I could never build the courage to talk to him without feeling guilty. Even though it wasn’t the longest relationship in the world, I had been falling for him pretty hard. I guess I didn’t even know what I was thinking, but all actions have consequences, and I wasn’t prepared to face what I had caused. That led to drinking and depressing poetry. The four following years, leading up to now, had been horrid, I hadn’t really thought that if I was in a relationship, I would have someone to keep me grounded, I always looked on the negative side of things. It’s no surprise I took it hard, and alcohol helped the pain go away for a day or two, but it just kept coming back. Seeing me like that caused Grace to develop a certain hate for a certain person, and I’ve always felt bad that she’s never been able to see the good side of him, before I introduced her to my mistake. I didn’t expect him that night he came over. We hadn’t talked in forever, and when he said he missed me, I guess I just melted. That, and the ever-haunting memory of Emilie. Our relationship wasn’t just sex, I actually still had feelings for him, and he was really good in bed, but that wasn’t the point. I look at Erik, who has put his mug on the island and is looking down at me.

      “You okay?” he asks. I nod quickly and just look at him. I missed him too. I really did. “Good, well, I could only stay for a couple of minutes, so I best be on my way out. Nice seeing you again Grace.” She mumbles something neither of us can comprehend, and he gives a small wave before leaving.

“Really Grace, really?” I say, locking the door and turning around to face her. I was aware about robbers in our part of the city. She shrugs and takes another long sip of coffee, but I can tell that behind the mug, her smile has never been bigger.  “You shouldn’t have been so ru-“ I’m cut off by the sound of the front door’s knob turning. We both turn to look at it. The door shakes, as if someone was trying to open it. Correction, someone was trying to open it.

    

     “Hello?” Grace calls out.  She sets her coffee down and gets off the island to stand next to me. We both stare at the door, which has gone completely still, until it shakes again and spooks both of us.

    “Open up,” a strange voice responds. I step cautiously towards the door to look through the peephole. The last thing I expected to see was a gun pointed to little glass circle. I step backwards, scared.

     “He’s got a gun,” I whisper to my cousin. She grabs my arm and pulls me around the island, then yanks me down to hide behind it with her.

     Then, the door lock is shot off, and the intruder comes into my home.