Don't Doubt Me

She's misunderstood, drunk on the idea love.

When I grow old and retire, I'm opening a coffee shop. The coffee prices will never exceed two dollars, but the quality will be greater than Starbucks. You will be able to smoke your cigarettes and tongue kiss your lover all you want. I will sell books for a quarter and write poetry and paint the words on the wall. You can bring your dog or your cat no matter their size, as long as their friendly, no scratch that, even if they're not friendly. There will be soft jazz, perhaps Frank Sinatra's voice will stain the air and there will be dancing. Young lovers, old lovers, single, or not, everyone is welcome and everyone will dance.

            I have dreams. I have many ideas and thoughts, some are lost and some are written down. I think too much and far too hard about things that shouldn't cloud my mind or weigh me down. I'm doing it right now as I breathe in the night air, my eyes scanning the illuminated signs advertising coffee drinks and Italian food. The streets are bare, the night is ticking by me and I have no direction. I tuck my hands into the pockets of my navy jacket and wish to myself that I had worn a hat. Or that I had a lover to take his hand.

            The concept of loneliness lays heavily on my shoulders as I count the cracks in the sidewalk, but don't doubt me. I am a strong, independent woman, who just so happens to wish above all that a man could be just absolutely infatuated with me. There is nothing wrong with me, by any means. I am loud and a bit forward, I don't always think before I speak, but I just like to think of myself as unique. Better than weird. I have my quirks, but I wouldn't write myself off as weird. I have weird tendencies and habits, but I wouldn't use the word weird to describe me. Unique doesn't quite do me justice and rambunctious seems childish. Eccentric makes me seem crazy and though I may have my moments, I wouldn't necessarily describe myself as crazy. I'm a dreamer.

            There's a boy, who is stumbling drunk up the walkway and I'm preparing myself to approach him. I'm a good runner so there is minimum fear swelling in my belly.

            "Are you alright?" I ask as he stands swaying, facing a tree. He seems to have forgotten his jacket and temperatures are dropping.

            "Are you okay?" His words are thick and slurred.

            "I'm fine. I can walk a straight line and do thirty jumping jacks without getting tired." This would be the weird spewing from me.

            "Oh, I can't do that."

            "I suppose you couldn't, not in your state anyhow. Would you like me to help you home?" And this would be the crazy, or perhaps you could call it kindness, but either way I know I'm a good runner and a swift kicker.

            "That would be great!" He stumbled toward me and I side stepped away from him, so he tumbled forward, catching himself just before the curb. I hold my arms out just in case he falls in my direction.

            "Alright, where do you live?" He had to think about this and that worried me.

            "That's not the prob-em. Where am I?" Great. I sigh and slide an arm under his, to start guiding him in the direction he was stumbling moments before, he reeked of alcohol.

            "We're at the village. Do you live in an apartment?" I ask as we're nearing a cross walk, which means he'll have to choose or figure out which direction his home is.

            "That way!" He said almost as an excited child. He was pointing across the street to a line of lighted apartments. Well, he almost made his way by himself that is if he didn't get hit by a car. He was trying to step off the curb and cross the street into oncoming traffic. He struggled against me for a moment, then gave up, his head drooping to his chest, eyes closed.

            "Don't pass out, I won't be able to carry you." I said as if chiding a young child. He spat at the ground and a string of spit drooped to the pavement. "Attractive." I mumbled as I guided him across the street. Perhaps it would have been easier to let him stumble his way into the arms of another group of more drunks, then his own people could have cared for him, but  I suppose the crazy in me or the weird cared about this stranger's safety. I lead him to the light of one of the apartment building.

            "What is your apartment number?" I asked, but when I looked to him he was on the edge of unconsciousness. I rolled my eyes and hoped no one happened to be peaking out their window and was now feasting upon this tragic sight of drunk man with sober woman. Scratch that, drunk boy. Mustn't mix the two, drunk men can at least handle their booze. Mostly. He broke away from my grasp and began throwing up in the bushes near someone's door. I sighed.

            Approaching him carefully, I stand a few paces away and wait for him to empty his belly. After he was finished he stumbled away from the puke filled bush and I followed quickly. He stopped before, what I could only hope, was his apartment door. Fumbling with his keys, he dropped them to the ground and I picked them up quickly before he could reach them. He had three keys on the ring and I could only guess which one was the key to the door. Sighing with relief the lock clicked and the door swung open. The boy stumbled in and flipped on a light.

            "Honey I'm home!" He shouted and I couldn't help, but cringe. I could only hope his roommates were out for the night. "Oh, wait the b***h broke up with me." I rolled my eyes and walked passed him to the kitchen. Checking the fridge I found a bottle of water and turned towards him to find him seated at the kitchen table. He was hunched over and looking incredibly defeated. I handed him the water.

            "Wash out your mouth." I said, noting the anger in his eyes. I turned back to the counter and found a coffeepot, it only took me moments to find coffee grounds and the filters.

            "I loved her. A lot."

            'So, tell me about her."

            "She was daft." Good his vocabulary was returning, which means he puked up most of the alcohol from his system, but he was still wobbly.

            "So you were perfect for each other." I said filling the pot with water and emptying it into the coffee maker.

            "We really were. You know I met her my first year of college."

            "So this year?" I asked slyly, he chuckled.

            "No, surprisingly, I'm a fifth year senior." Oh dear, he was a man. His words were still thick and his head was bobbing.

            "Drink your water." He did.

            "She was the prettiest girl in class- Oh what was it, Geology. She was my lab partner and I could never stop looking at her."

            "Well, of course she must have been stunning, but how was her personality?" I ask taking a seat across from him. He thought for a long time, if his eyes hadn't been open, I would have thought he passed out.

            "She was daft."

            "You mentioned that." I got up to pour us coffee. It smelled heavenly and though I know it's a myth that coffee will help sober you up, it was still a comforting drink. I placed the cup before him and he instantly started to sip it carefully.

            "She taught me important stuff too. Like how to download music and text books for free. She helped me with the geology homework even though I understood and she didn't. She liked to get all prettied up and go out. She would let guys dance on her, even though she had gone out with me." His eyes were clouded with memories.

            "She sounds like a dream." I said rolling my eyes.

            "We had fun."

            "Yeah that's great, how are you feeling?" He met my eye.

            "Like s**t." He looked back down to his mug and drank from his coffee.

            "Is she the reason you're in this state?" I asked checking my watch. It was late.

            "I don't even remember."

            "Would you like to sleep?"

            "Can I tell you about her?" He asked meeting my gaze once more. I nodded solemnly and he started to speak of her and didn't stop for a very long time.

            I stepped out into the early rays of sun, wanting nothing other than my own bed. I have learned far too much about this Courtney character, the daft b***h. I never did learn the man's name, but it wasn't important, because I'm sure it was just another person who would fade away in the background and this, I was okay with.

            My name is Meerna Huntsmen and I would like to tell you my story.

 

            Upon returning home to my apartment that is nestled above a Jimmy John's in downtown, I almost wished I had normal roommates who slept in.

            "Oh, are we finally experiencing your first walk of shame!?" Rachelle exclaims as she hears the door close behind me. I sigh as I unbutton my jacket, but can't help, but smile.

            "Did someone say walk of shame?" Jasmyn who was hidden by laying on the couch perks up at the sound of a possible sex scandal. I rolled my eyes and nod my head, taking their humor with a grain of salt. Rachelle is mixing something in a bowl and coffee is already brewed. Love these girls.

            "What? Sex!?" Claira comes clambering from the bathroom wrapped in a towel. I stand before the three of them, as they anxiously wait for my explanation.

            "As you guys know, I just went for a walk last night, but a man needed my assistance-"

            "In bed." Rachelle finishes incorrectly for me. I sigh once more.

            "Negative ghost rider, my hymen is still intact. He was stumbling drunk, threw up in some bushes, and then mourned his ex for the whole night and most of my morning." I slip into my room and change from my jeans and tee shirt and into my work uniform.

            "You're going to work? Have you even slept?" Claira says cornering me before I could escape out the front door.

            "I haven't, but I have a short shift today and will take a healthy nap when I get back."

            "Just call in, Miss I-Must-Be-On-Time-Always." Rachelle says pouring whatever she had been mixing into a muffin pan.

            "You know why I'm so punctual, because my family was always late and it drove me crazy. Now I must be going.” I escape my over-caring roommate’s wrath and take the stairs two at a time.

            After work I fulfilled my promise and took a long healthy, eight hour nap, and regained consciousness at about seven. Emerging from my room I find quite the scene before me. Jasmyn is in the corner having a full blown panic attack, she’s huffing and puffing and trying her best not to let the tears pour from her eyes. Rachelle is curled up next to Jasmyn with a chocolate chip, pumpkin muffin trying her best to comfort the panic ridden woman. Claire seems to be having a rather loud and aggressive phone conversation with who I could only guess be her boyfriend, Cevan.

            I decide to relive Rachelle from her cramped position on the floor and instruct her to make us all tea. She obliges gratefully and skitters away to the kitchen. I crouch down so I’m eye level to Jasmyn, who refuses to meet my gaze.

            “What’s wrong?” I ask simply.

            “I need my meds.” She said quickly, looking everywhere, but my face.

            “Why’s that?”

            “They’re the only thing that makes me feel better. My problems aren’t as terrifying.” She says frantically.

            “No, you are the only thing that makes it better. Tell me your problems.” She pauses only for a moment and finally meets my eye.

            “I failed my exam. My paper is due in,” She checks the time on her phone. “Two hours! And I have no idea what to do for my lab!” Her eyes swim with a million more problems, but those will take time and Jasmyn seems to think that there isn’t enough time in the world.

            “Two hours, eh? Well, it looks like for the next two hours your only problem is this paper that is due. There is nothing else that needs to be in your mind or on your plate, but that paper and one of Rachelle’s muffins.” I hear a laugh come from the kitchen. Jasmyn has seemed to stop quivering, but she still looked like she was on the edge of the world and one more item on her things to do list would push her over.

            “Listen, Jasmyn,” the sound of her name brought her eyes back to me. It comforts people to hear their name. The sound of your name from someone else’s mouth seems to put a certain trust in that person. “You are in your fourth year of college. You’re almost to the end of the tunnel where the light shines brightest. You have a brilliant mind and you cannot let these bad thoughts invade your line of thinking. You are strong. You are independent. The more you tell yourself, the more you realize how much evidence you have of that, the faster you’ll realize you don’t need a pill. There is nothing wrong with you.”

            Jasmyn is quiet for a very long time, but I can see behind her eyes that the gears in her mind are spinning and whirling and she’s realizing I’m right.

            “Okay.”

            “Go work on your paper. Only think about that.” She gets up and starts for her room.

            “Ah-ah,” Rachelle stops her and hands her a warm chocolate pumpkin muffin, and a mug of steaming tea. Jasmyn smiles sincerely and disappears behind her bedroom door.

            “Cevan, that’s not the point!” I look to Rachelle for explanation as I hear Claira’s frustrated voice from the bedroom. Rachelle just shrugs and goes back to mixing something new in yet another bowl.

            “I have no idea.” She shrugs. I sigh and turn to Claira’s closed bedroom door. I walk carefully towards her wavering voice.

            “- I just can’t believe your stupidity, what would make you think that, that was okay?” I open the door without a knock and find her standing before her cluttered desk, that looked like the objects on top took a good beating or two. She held up a finger to me and I shook my head and took the phone from her, hanging up on Cevan and tossing it to the bed. Claira collapsed onto her chair and started to sob furiously.

            “So, let’s start with the simple fact that you can’t talk to anyone the way you just talked to him and yelling will not solve the problem. It didn’t fix my parent’s marriage after eighteen years of screaming at each other and trust me it won’t fix you and Cevan.” I took a seat at her desk chair and Claira looked up at me with a fury.

            “What happened?” I asked slowly, with a little more sympathy.

            “I don’t trust him! He isn’t here and he’s there with his stupid roommates and they do stupid things and-”

            “Let me stop you there. You trust him, you don’t trust his roommates, but the lack of trust in his roommates is irrelevant since you trust Cevan. He is the only one out of the four ejits that matter in this world, so what’s the problem?” She didn’t have a response. It was the line of thinking she refused to see the side of. So simple, yet so far away. “Yelling at him and making him feel like a fool is just making your situation worse. Plus Cevan isn’t very good with words or explaining things and you jumping to conclusion is only asking for a disaster. You must be patient, you must hear him out and stop yelling.” I said firmly as her phone begins to buzz. I pick up the useless piece of technology and hand it to Claira.

            “Listen and no yelling.” I say as I leave the room, closing the door behind me. Finding Rachelle still in the kitchen, filling yet another muffin pan, I take a seat at the breakfast bar and look to her suspiciously.

            “I’m fine.” She said starting to frost a cupcake I didn’t even realize she had made.

            “Rachelle, I wash dishes, Jasmyn gets the shakes, Claira paces, and you bake. The theme of this lovely apartment is that we are all very anxious people who at one point thought they should be medicated.”

            “Besides you.”

            “Besides me, but we all still have our devices. Now I can’t help, but notices the lack of counter space and the overabundance of desserts.” She stops frosting the miniature cake and her shoulders slouch as she bows her head. I could tell just by looking at her back that she was riddled with tension.

            “It’s Reed.” She wiped her hands on her apron and turned to face me, leaning against the counter. “Or more like its Reed’s mother. She’s not doing well and Reed isn’t either.”

            “He loves you.” I said as she looked to the counter full of baked goods.

            “I know.”

            “He just doesn’t want you in the dark place he’s in right now.”

            “But I’m willing-”

            “Of course you are. You are willing to be there for him through thick and thin because you love him, but he’s willing to force himself to keep his distant, just for a little while, so he can sort through his monsters because he loves you. Tragedy can do cruel things to people and it makes them colder. If I know Reed at all, he’s at a point in his life that he needs you the most, which is why he can’t let his monsters escape from his mind and find its way into his words that will hurt you. Reed needs you, but he needs you happy.” Just like that I saw Rachelle relax, I found her smiling and her eyes swam with realization. A brand new line of thinking and the world is an alright place again.

            I hear two doors click and swing open from behind me and before I know it Rachelle has her arms around me as do Claira and Jasmyn.

            “I finished my paper.”

            “I apologized to Cevan.” We all sat there in an awkward embrace for a very long time. We all settled on our couch with a massive bowl of popcorn and the most absurd chick flick we could find, it was playing before us on our tiny flat screen T.V.

            I was once told by a very insightful man that the universe will deliver, all we have to do is ask. It’ll take time and practice for keeping a positive mind, but in time the universe will deliver. It’s a complicated process that I couldn’t even begin to try and explain. It all has to do with line of thinking; if you’re stuck in a negative way of thought, then believe me, you will experience nothing but negativity. You must tell yourself, convince yourself that you will have a good day, that everything will work out and that only time will tell. Life is a complicated thing, but it doesn’t have to be cruel and it doesn’t have to take us to that inescapable place.

Author's Note

Would you like to hear the rest of Meerna's story?

Reviews

[Myrna]

Re-reading this story after neglecting it for some time, I am loving the direction this is going. I will dive more into Meerna's actual story (love story) and more everyday situations will be solved, but my story doesn't seem to be getting very many views and no reviews. How can I change this?