Читать книгу Drowning in the Shallows - Dan Kaufman - Страница 9

7

I awake with a yelp and a possibly bleeding cheek to find Jackson’s furry face peering intently at mine. Grabbing my attention, he leaps off the bed and pads expectantly to his food bowl.

Son of a bitch.

Every couple have their routine. Some discuss their day over dinner, others warm their feet against their partner’s legs in bed.

Jackson claws me in the dead of night.

No matter how much food I put in his bowl before bed, it’s always empty just an hour later and tonight, as usual, he hauls me out at some ungodly hour in the am.

I get up to service him, my dream of Tori lingering in my mind. I dreamt we had a fight, she was yelling, and though I don’t remember what the fight was over I recall being bothered she didn’t care I was offended. Like Jackson, she was just out for blood.

I shake some food into the bowl before gingerly touching my face. Hopefully it won’t leave a mark.

The thing is, this dream was realistic, it showed exactly how Tori would act in real life. Our fights were always competitions rather than misunderstandings, she never cared if I felt bad about something.

Jesus, I sound like a pussy.

I slide back into bed to the sound of Jackson’s happy crunching. I’m groggy but not ready just yet to expunge the last dream and replace it with another. It may have been horrible but it also struck a nerve.

What also bugs me about the dream is how beautiful Tori was in it, even while throwing a tantrum – and that one quality haunts you.

I then think about how her childishness was cute at times, it wasn’t all bad: such as how she would only read children’s books, and her eyes would light up when reading the ones that featured the cheeky monkey that …

Ok, maybe I do need to date more literate women.

I shift around in bed. Still, despite all the bad times – all the many, many bad times – I still find myself missing her. I can’t explain why, not really, but …

I close my eyes.

A lot of times people get back together after long breaks … maybe there’s a chance she’ll change her mind and come back to me. She did want me to stay at the after party, and maybe seeing me there will awaken something inside her, and so if she calls … would I take her back?

She’d have to be genuinely sorry, of course, and we’d have to work things out, but maybe …

I start thinking of possibilities as I wait for sleep to wash over me.

◆

Jackson’s curled up on the pillow beside me when I wake up, this time at a more respectable hour. He opens his eyes, stretches out a paw, and makes an odd sound like a drunk being stirred from slumber.

I know how he feels.

It’s almost midday and after stretching and yawning I clamber out of bed. My thoughts from last night reassemble and form, slowly but surely, and I shake my head as if that will delete them – I must have been drunk and tired to have even entertained the notion of being with Tori again. What was I thinking?

Jackson jumps off the bed and pads to his food bowl.

I turn on my computer and wait as the old machine whirs and whines before laboriously downloading email. They begin to pop up, press release after press release, and then …

Son of a bitch.

Son of a bitch!

There’s a message from Facebook saying Tori wants to be my Facebook friend – which I don’t understand, since I deliberately defriended her after the breakup.

I stare at the screen, scrutinising the message, but it still doesn’t make sense.

I get up and pace around the room.

I should just delete it.

I sit back down and peer tentatively at the email, as if it might bite.

I should immediately delete it but … if I click the link it’ll show me her profile, which is otherwise blocked to non-friends (as I found out two weeks ago when I tried to stalk/check it out). And if I do click it then I can always see the profile without anyone knowing and then not re-friend her …

Who on earth does the sensible thing in these situations?

I compulsively click, my heart jolting when I see her photo. Luckily it’s awful, she’s screwing up her face for the camera, and then I glance at her profile and …

Her relationship status says: in a relationship

It hits me in the stomach, I feel like reeling.

in a relationship

I keep looking at that line, over and over again.

in a relationship

For a moment I wonder whether maybe it refers to me, that maybe she never changed her relationship status since breaking up with me, but of course that isn’t the case, Tori’s obsessed with Facebook, and while it might be the opium for the masses it’s oxygen for Tori and …

She’s dating someone else? Already? She’s already moved on?

She left me for someone else, just as I’d suspected all along, even though I’m now finding it hard to swallow …

I read more of her profile, see posts by her friends, including Jezebel, and then …

Oh, this is just fucked up.

She’s written, in black and white, about how her boyfriend is “an awesome and very talented actor” and how much she’s rediscovering life and what it means to finally have fun and …

I see red, turn away from the computer, start pacing again.

That’s just …

Wrong.

Why would she do this? Why send that message? What did I do to her? You don’t dump someone and then, out of sadism, ask them to read something like that!

The time of the friend request was 3am and the rational part of me realises she was probably drunk and not thinking clearly about how it would make me feel, that maybe she did just want to be Facebook friends with me, and …

No.

First off, I’m too angry to want to be rational, secondly it doesn’t change the fact she’s seeing someone else and probably dumped me for him.

I sit back down and tap out my response, succinctly telling her exactly which orifice she and her talented actor can shove the friend request up, and click Send.

Bubbling with anger, I go to make coffee while Jackson traipses after me, mewling for more food.