Friday, November 19, 2010

Journal entry by Kirsten Bouthiller

I roll out of bed and stumble onto the hard, roughly carpeted floor. Cold and tired, my head is already throbbing. It is too early for this. Just found out that Andrew took the car last night so I can’t drive up to see Sean. Awesome. Oh, and now I’m in a screaming fight with my mom over her letting Andrew take the car. Lovely. My eye feels like it’s going to pop out of my head. Called Sean and he can’t drive down because he has to “paint the deck” like he’s had to all summer. If I want to see him I’ve got to drive myself up there. No, Mom and Dad won’t drive me. I’ll call Andrew, see when he’s getting home. He’s not up yet? You have got to be kidding me. A slight twinge crosses through my stomach and I begin to feel nauseous. Two hours later, after being in a terrible mood and wanting to both cry and kill someone, Andrew pulls into the driveway. He informs me that he’s going back to town anyway but I tell him that I’m driving because I need to get there NOW. He tosses me the keys while I mutter angrily under my breath. Head still about to explode, I weave through traffic at speeds that shouldn’t be discussed. When I finally make it to his house, I see that he hasn’t even pulled out the stain for the deck. I walk into the house and am relieved to see him. My body instantly relaxes. We play rock band for a bit until he has to tune drums for his dad. While he tunes drums, I play computer games. My headache only worsens from staring at the computer screen until it reaches a breaking point. I leave my computer on the coffee table and join Sean sitting on the floor. Trying to keep my cool, I smile. Do you need a hand? He’s angry. The drum he has to fix up is missing an important part, though I have no idea what he’s talking about. As he keeps ranting, tears stream down my face because the stomach has flipped and my head is pounding. He picks me up and puts me on the couch. Take a nap. What I thought would only be an hour at the most of a nap turned into four. I wake up at seven p.m. on his couch to the sound of a movie he's watching and the smell of lasagna in the oven. Feel better? A little, I guess. Not really though. Join me, I’m watching a movie. What movie? Not sure, but it’s really good. Okay, when’s dinner? Mom, Dad! When’s dinner? In ten minutes. In ten minutes. Great, I’m so hungry. Get over here and watch this movie with me. As I watch, my eyes feel heavy and I lose my appetite. His parents call us in to the kitchen for dinner. We sit down and his parents dish out our food, I try to manage it down. Excuse me for just a moment. I bolt to the bathroom. Reach for the sink knob and the toilet at once. All the water I drank down found its way back up. You’re okay. You are okay. I walk back into the kitchen and act like nothing happened. Don’t be rude, you’ve got to eat. I barely eat half my plate. After dinner, Sean and I walk outside briefly. We sit in the driveway looking at the stars. I think I’m sick. Why’s that? This is kind of really embarrassing... I feel like I’m going to puke. Are you alright? Well... during dinner... Oh no, you were sick weren’t you? I mean, sort of? How do you feel now? Awful. How about we go inside and you lie down a bit more. Okay. We begin to walk to his back door. One step. Two steps. Don’t puke, please don’t puke. Steady your head, clear your mind. You’re fine. YOU ARE FINE. Um, I’ll see you inside. I run up the stairs and into the bathroom. It literally feels like my stomach is flipping itself inside out. A demon roars from the depths of my chest. Hot tears flow down my cheeks. Stumbling out of the bathroom, Sean is standing in the middle of his kitchen staring at me. Uh, are you alright? Not really. Do you feel any better? I never want to eat lasagna again. You’ve got quite the demon in your stomach. He laughs. I crack a half smile. Don’t make that demon mad at you. Okay, pukey. Stop, you’re so mean. You’re the one who threatened to puke on me. Your point? So, do you want to finish that movie? Can we just hang out and not listen to loud noises? Yeah, sure. We lie on the couch. My phone rings. It 's my parents. Hello? I don’t think I can drive myself home, Mom. No, I’m sick. No, no, my head hurts so bad. Yes, Mom. I have to go. I’ll call you back. Hey Sean, can you call my mom back? Uh sure, and say what? Explain to them that I’m sick. Are you alright? Yeah, I’ll... I’ll be back.
I called your mom, Andrew is going to come pick you up. He’s going to meet up with your dad at Ruby road, and he’ll take you home. How do you feel? Better. My cheeks are hot and flushed. Tears running quickly. I’m sorry. For what? For this being our last time hanging out before you leave. Hey, don’t worry about it. I love you. I love you too. I am so tired. Then sleep. And so, I slept. Waking up alone at home.

1 comment:

Nell said...

wait i love this. now i know why Dr. B posted this here haha. I can literally feel the aching pain from your head and stomach. I've been there so many times, reading it actually made my head hurt FOR you in this. I love the style that it's written in too, where there's dialogue but it's practically conversational and very right there. Well done!