catharsis (n.)

the process of releasing, and thereby providing relief from, strong or repressed emotions

* * *

'TALK to you later' turned into 'talk to you in a week or two.'

Last Thursday—the day after our fight—I was sure that he'd apologize. So positively sure that he would give me another jar of green M&Ms and a ridiculous poem.

My only present was radio silence and Elliot Ash pretending that I didn't exist.

Despite seeing each other in Environmental Science, lunch, and Photography every day at school, Elliot Ash Cameron and I hadn't uttered a single word to each other in a week and two days. An achingly long nine days without hugs, kisses, or snuggles from my boyfriend.

Although, I wasn't sure if we were still an item. Was this an unofficial breakup? I didn't know the rules of dating, but I certainly didn't want to ask him. Asking Elliot would be the last thing I'd do. It'd be way more than the act of speaking to him. Speaking would be admitting defeat; admitting that he was right and I was wrong.

In retrospect, we should have seen this coming. It's what happens when two of the most stubborn people in Haven Beach start dating. It was a miracle that we dated for two months without any arguments.

I got a few answers to my questions about our relationship the day before I left for LA. Our friends staged a How I Met Your Mother-style intervention in Delaney's basement. Of course, Elliot and I were out of the loop. Aubrey and Benjamin kidnapped us and our friends forced us into participating in a slapdash therapy session.

Unsurprisingly, their efforts didn't work. Grasping at straws, they did the next best thing: locking us in a room. However, they made the mistake of locking us into a room with a window.

I was prepared to apologize to Elliot, ending this once and for all, but he had other plans. Right before he escaped via the window, he broke our nine-day-long silence to tell me he wanted to take a break from our relationship.

To avoid becoming the real-life Ross and Rachel, we set terms; the break would be a literal pause in our relationship, and we were unallowed to see other people.

I was glad that we ended our game of chicken, but then again, what we talked about wasn't exactly a step in the right direction. Instead of a step forward, it was more like a step to the side on the dark and twisty road to recovery.

* * *

When I went home, I busied myself with packing, using it as a distraction from the burning humiliation of being ditched. I woke up the next morning feeling revitalized and vowed to have a happy day, not thinking of El—him.

Ten boring hours, two uncomfortable plane rides, and one awkward taxi ride later, my father and I arrived at our hotel in downtown LA.

"So, Charlotte, what do you want to do this afternoon?" he asked as we dumped our suitcases in our thirteenth-floor hotel room. "I have a business meeting at seven, but I am available until then."

Who was this man, and what did he do with my father? I was incredibly surprised that he wasn't going to abandon me right off the bat. It was the bare minimum, but the bare minimum was a big fucking deal for Mark Haynes.

It must have been the magic (or voodoo) of the thirteenth floor. Hopefully, this strange version of my father wouldn't attack me in the middle of the night, like the other father in Coraline.

"What?" he asked gruffly.

I shook myself out of my stupor. "Nothing. Uh, I don't know. Maybe go to a restaurant?"

"Let's just do room service. Restaurants take too long." Ah, there the man I sort-of hated was.

I grabbed the menu off the nightstand and started flipping through it. We ordered gourmet sandwiches, and thirty minutes later, a hotel attendant arrived with our food.

"I spoke to my friend and confirmed your tour," he said as we dug into our food. "It's at one pm tomorrow. I'm supposed to be working, but I will try to leave early to take you."

"There's no need to," I said mid-chew. "I can get there on my own."

"No, I'm coming. I want to be there for you."

I snorted. "What happened to being there for me growing up? I'm eighteen now. I don't need you to baby me now; I needed that years ago."

His lips twisted into a barely-there grimace. "I know I have made many mistakes, but I want to start making amends. I meant what I said on Christmas. Really."

I chuckled mirthlessly, "We seem to have very different memories of Christmas. I remember you barging into our house and threatening us, not begging on your knees for forgiveness."

He flinched, his teeth gritting and wrinkled face turning a light shade of pink. "I realize that I didn't go about it the right way. I am trying to make amends. Can you at least give me a chance?"

I let out a long breath, "I guess."

"Thank you. I won't blow it this time. I promise."

I hesitantly nodded, still unsure if it would be wise to trust him and risk being let down for the millionth time. I learned at a young age that a promise meant nothing coming out of his mouth. And seven months apart wasn't nearly enough time for him to learn how to keep his word. 

"Why are you turning over a new leaf all of the sudden? Where was this leaf months or even years ago?"

He made a sound of surprise before masking it with a cough. "I've been doing a lot of self-reflection. What I did with Candie ruined most of the relationships in my life. As much as I wish I could, I can't take my actions back. At the very least, I want to make things right."

Wow. That must have been the noblest thing to ever come out of his mouth.

"I'm glad you can't take your actions back," I said as I took a sip of my seltzer. "Everything worked out nicely for me."

He narrowed his eyes at me, his head slightly cocking to the side, "Is that some sort of backhanded compliment?"

"No, no," I assured him. "It's just... everyone's happier now. You and mom aren't in a loveless marriage. She's doing better on her own and loves her new job. I'm a lot happier in Haven Beach, too. I have incredible friends, and I fell in love. And you, you fell in... whatever you feel towards Candie." I chewed on the inside of my cheek to stifle the laughter that was about to spill out. "Yeah, your infidelity shattered us, but we were able to put the pieces back together. And I'd like to think that mom and I are stronger than before." I paused to carefully think about my next words. "So, given the chance, I wouldn't change your actions. Without them, we would still be miserable. Mom wouldn't have reconnected with her old friends back home, you wouldn't be getting remarried, and I wouldn't have met Elliot."

"That makes sense," he said after a heavy moment. "I just want you to know that I really am sorry."

"I'd like to apologize for the things I said and thought about you, too. You didn't hear the majority of it, but I'd still like to make it known that I'm sorry."

"So is all forgiven?"

"Not right now. In time, it will be," I shrugged. "I mean, what you did totally was not okay, but I'm not angry about it anymore. And while this talk was cathartic, it didn't magically fix our relationship. I'd still like to think we're one step closer to civility."

I desperately wanted to forgive him, but I couldn't yet.

In my opinion, forgiveness wasn't absolution nor the absence of resentment. It was merely accepting that something happened and knowing there was nothing I could do to change its outcome. Forgiveness, despite that, was the first part of healing; it was stitching a rotting wound closed and letting the body start the natural process of forming scars.

Sure, these specific wounds had festered for months, but the damage wasn't beyond repair. Maybe in months—or years—a new layer of skin would grow and replace the wound with a scar: a reminder of the pain of the past.

"When did you grow up so much?"

When you were too busy fucking your mistresses to pay attention to me. "Within the past seven months. It's been a whirlwind."

"Well, they do say that with love comes wisdom."

"Ugh, not you too."

He cracked a smile. "Your mother?"

I nodded, a matching half-grin on my face.

"She used to say that all the time. It must have been one of the many things I picked up from her," he reminisced, swallowing thickly. "How about you tell me more about this boy."

"Are you sure?" I nodded at him, drawing a line with my chin, "I don't wanna push this too much."

"Go ahead," he chuckled. "I can restrain myself, you know."

I was about to make a sarcastic remark about how he couldn't restrain himself from cheating, but I swallowed it at the last second. If he could open the book to a new page, I could do the same, too.

"What was his name? Elliot?" he prompted.

I opened my mouth, ready to speak about my favorite person (even though I hated him at the moment), but my mind drew a blank. "I don't even know where to start. There's a lot about him."

"Just start at the beginning. How did you meet him?"

"Eli and I met at school. We initially connected because of our Environmental Science and Photography classes, but it turned into something more at a party." I paused when I saw his face contort in disgust. "What's wrong?"

"Keep it PG. I don't need to hear about your sexual escapades."

He couldn't stomach thinking about anything rated above PG, but he thought it was okay for me to see him having sex? Something about that didn't sit right with me...

"I was going to say that we had a conversation. As in talking. Like normal people... Anyway, the initial attraction turned into a crush and grew into love. We've been together since the day after Valentine's Day."

"I don't like the idea of you dating—" suck it up, buttercup "—but I guess I'll tolerate it. Does he at least treat you right?"

"Yeah, he's really sweet and always puts me first. Although, he's been acting like an asshole recently. We're in the middle of our first fight as a couple..." I briefly explained the cause of our stupid fight. I included all of the details and background information, from his scholarship to Revere, all the way to my coming to LA.

"Well, if I know anything from nineteen-and-a-half years of fighting with your mother, apologies are important. Even if you think you are right, still apologize. And if he doesn't accept it, that's on him... Lose him to a silly fight, and you'll regret it for the rest of your life. Hell, I already regret the way things ended between your mother and me. I'm glad it's over, but we could have—I could have—handled it with more maturity."

More maturity? That's the understatement of the century.

I nodded. "Thanks. But, it's just that... I've tried apologizing, but he's not even listening to me. It goes in one ear and out the other."

"Give it a few more days, then call him up. If he still won't talk, dump his worthless ass. You deserve better."

"Thanks. That's actually good advice."

"Is this the part when we hug it out?" he joked, ignoring (or not noticing) my subtle dig.

Holding back a gag at the thought of touching him, I shook my head. "Eh, that's pushing it a little too much."

While I could begin to forgive my father's actions and accept what he had done, I couldn't wash away the amalgamation of eighteen years of resentment and bitterness. My feelings towards him were imprinted on me like a tattoo; they were a part of me, and I would need to undergo a painstaking process to be rid of them.

Yeah, we had reached a mutual understanding, but that didn't mean I had to like him as a person. Maybe someday, I would be able to love him like a father, but for the time being, I would only be able to swallow him in small doses.

Swallowing him in small doses was a little better than barfing on him—in my opinion, at least.

"Agreed. Well—" His phone rang loudly, cutting off whatever he was about to say. "Sorry, I gotta take this." He stood up and moved into the bathroom to take the call.

I finished the last bit of my untouched food as he talked on the phone.

A few minutes later, he came out with regret written on his face. "I hate to interrupt this, but they need me to come into the office now. Apparently, there are some issues with the books my team's auditing. If the hedge funds aren't following the GAAP, I might have to miss—"

I waved him off. "Go, it's fine."

"I am sorry. I will see you later." After snatching his briefcase and wallet, he rushed out the door.

As soon as he left, the tension I was unaware of released from my body. It was like the annoying bee hovering around me finally buzzed off and left me in peace and quiet.

I turned on the TV and read Pride and Prejudice to pass the time. I eventually got bored by reading Jane Austen's words for the umpteenth time and decided to check out the hotel. Throwing on the sweatshirt Eli got me for my birthday, I got ready to do some exploring.

Just as I was about to close the door behind me, I realized my father took both of the keys.

Turning around, I jumped and dove onto my bed. I groaned as it became clear that I would be confined to the room until he decided to return. Was this an intentional move on his part? I sure hoped it wasn't.

I decided to explore the hotel room instead. I sorted through the complimentary toiletries in the bathroom, even reading the directions on the shampoo bottles. Next, I moved onto reading the TV guide in all of the provided languages. None of it made sense, but it was fun attempting to pronounce the words.

When I got tired of trying to read French, I decided it was time to check out the balcony. I unlocked the door and stepped out into the crisp, gusty air. Shivering, I pulled Eli's hoodie tighter to my body, inhaling leftover traces of his comforting minty scent and cologne.

Below me, the city was alive. Business people walked on the sidewalks, making their way home after a long day at the office. SGSU students milled around, some partying, and some on their way to night classes.

Seeing the skyscrapers lit up and listening to the musical sound of the traffic made me yearn for the city life I led in Chicago. The ambiance of a city was incomparable to anywhere else. While I adored the small-town feel of Haven Beach, part of me would always be a city girl at heart. The question was just which city to pick...

I became distracted by the half-full moon peeking between the buildings.

A tidal wave of warmth and contentment washed over me as I remembered that three thousand miles away, in Haven Beach, the same half-moon was visible. Was Eli gazing at it too, thinking of me? There was no way to know, but I decided that he was. The reminder that despite the continent between us, we were still connected provided me relief in the midst of this madness.

Somewhere in my musings, a dense cloud covered the moon, instantly obscuring its luminance. With it, my hope faded. I came to the harsh realization that I was alone on the balcony, and nothing was connecting me to Elliot. Not even the moon. Not even our allegedly unbreakable green string of fate.

The glass door I was leaning against squeaked as I slid to the ground.

One by one, rogue tears clouded my vision as I wept over the seeming loss of my boyfriend—my best friend. How did we let things get this bad? How did we make a stupid argument turn into a monstrous fight, lasting two weeks? Where did I go wrong? Where did we go wrong?

Maniacal, caustic laughs escaped my mouth at the irony of everything. In that moment, I knew I had finally lost the delicate string of sanity I had been clinging to. It was as if an invisible pair of scissors snipped it as I laid on the cold concrete.

Something came over me, and I scrambled for my phone to call Eli. I had the sudden urge to make everything right—we couldn't go on like this.

I called him four times, but he declined my call each time. And it was obvious that he was there based on the fact that it rang twice before going to voicemail, rather than going straight there.

The tears came back in ardor, running down my cheeks as I stared at the blurring lights below. My only solace as I lost the battle to fatigue was running my finger over the "E💚C" stitched into my sleeve.

* * *

A/N: Thanks for reading chapter 44! Don't forget to vote and comment! 💚

QOTC: Do you think Mark (Char's father) deserves her forgiveness?

My Answer: Yes and no. The petty part in me is screaming for me to kill his character (I'm not kidding—I almost made him die in a car crash), but deep down, I think that he should have the opportunity to work for forgiveness. People screw up all the time. If forgiveness didn't exist, we would all hate each other.