AllFreeNovel
Share Us
By the time I finish my second glass, it is all routine. I shut down my thoughts and turn on the charm. Who is this guy? Who cares? A friend, a client, a legal secretary—it doesn't matter. None of them want to know anything about me. Lucky guy, they say, she's beautiful.
They don't even decide it for themselves. They hear that I am an actress, that I am on TV, and they assume I am beautiful. They only know that I am the kind of girl who is supposed to be beautiful. The kind of girl who is beautiful and nothing else.
But I am used to this drill by now. I am beautiful. Ryan is smart. I am beautiful. Ryan is determined. I am beautiful. Ryan is lucky.
And, then, just when I am sure I've met every stupid asshole here, I see Luke, in a sleek, black suit and royal blue tie, sitting at the bar, drinking what I can only assume is a skinny margarita. He looks exactly how I feel—positively miserable.
If he's this miserable without me, maybe he'll be less miserable with me.
Maybe I should take him at his word, his earlier word at least, when he told me I made him feel alive, when he told me he loved me.
I maintain my composure, smiling through more introductions, laughing at more bad jokes, ignoring the glances at my figure. I know what they are thinking—if she's anorexic or something, if she's an actress, why isn't she thin?
They do always say that men prefer curvy women. As if I give a fuck what any of these assholes prefer. As if I give a fuck about anyone besides Luke.
I glance back at the bar. Luke is on his next drink, embracing the whole “it's my firm's party and I'll cry if I want to” mentality. Not that I can blame him. I'd kill to shed this stupid, happy expression I've plastered on my face.
Ryan never gets it. He thinks because I'm an actor, I can act happy to deal with this phony bullshit. I've tried to tell him that acting isn't pretending or lying. Acting is the opposite. It's finding truth and belief, and really being in that moment.
It's not putting on a smile and a low-cut dress to show off to your fiancé’s idiotic friends.
And, just when I think I cannot stomach another fake smile and fake conversation, I look at Luke and all the hurt in his big, brown eyes. I try to maintain my composure. I blink away a tear. I choke back a sob. But I can't manage this for long.
Ryan stares daggers at Luke. He grabs my wrist and pulls me aside. He slips two little, white pills into my hands—another dose of Ativan. “I know it hurts, but it was just a fling,” he says. “You'll get over it without causing a scene at my party.”
***
In the bathroom, I wash away any signs of my misery. Cold water to dull the redness on my face. Toilet paper to wash away my running makeup. A fresh coat of eyeliner and mascara.
The Ativan feels so light in my hands. I know it will calm me down. I know it will shut down every feeling in my body, until I am a comfortable numb. I know Ryan wants me to be good, to be quiet, to avoid making a scene.
I know Ryan wants me to take it.
His mentality is idiotic. If I try to numb myself with alcohol or food, I'm self-destructive. But if he deems me too emotional, then he's free to suggest a dose of drugs to ease my anxiety.
I'm not anxious. I'm miserable because I hate him.
I crush the Ativan between my hands. The paste sticks to my wet fingers, but I wash my hands, over and over again, until every bit of residue is gone.
Do I really need another way to numb myself? It used to be food. I tried so hard to be good, to stick to my diet, to maintain my perfect actress frame. I tried so hard, but I was weak, and I was empty.
And I was vacuous, because there was no room in my mind for anything but fantasies of my next binge. Sure, for the hours I spent binging and purging, I didn't feel any hurt, or anger, or rejection. I didn’t feel anything except hatred for my stupid, pathetic failure.
I used to think Ryan rescued me. He got me into treatment. He forced me to follow a plan. He watched over me. He took care of me. He loved me.
But then why has the last year felt like a prison sentence? Why did I let my life slide into nothing but waiting for Ryan? I used to have hobbies. I used to have friends. I used to be a part of the world.
I used to feel things, amazing things I didn't want to numb.
Like I do with Luke.
Or, like I did.
I used to think Ryan saved my life.
But maybe he destroyed it.
***
