35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
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2022
I was fine. I would be fine.
I said those words and repeated them so many times I feared I would lose my voice, but the emotional exhaustion was far worse to deal with, so I ultimately went silent. I put up with Ingrid and Savannah's endless hovering while the gash across my forearm was cleaned and stitched back up, like that would stitch me back up, but my wounds went deeper than that. It wasn't something I could even comment on, running the risk of sounding too dramatic or worse—I could be attracting unnecessary attention to something that didn't need to be overanalyzed by someone other than myself—so, once again, I learned to bite my tongue.
The whole situation was, to a lack of a better word, humiliating. The fact that all of these events had been triggered by my inability to adequately process a breakup or to appreciate a nice gesture made it so much worse to deal with, a clear sign I shouldn't be allowed around other people, let alone other people my age. If only I hadn't taken advantage of being a year older than most people in my senior class, if only I hadn't forced myself to act and look older and more mature than I was, if only I didn't let it backfire so violently.
If only.
I'd once read something about counterfactual thinking, where you obsessed over every single way the events of your life could have happened differently, what you could have done to change the outcome, and realized that defined me to a T. I didn't like to be analyzed in depths I wasn't comfortable with, so I had to stop reading before I spiraled, but it was there. I'd always been so focused on trying to change the past, well aware it was impossible, and it had made me live in regret my whole life.
Regrettably, there was nothing I could do to change what had happened between me and Chase in his office. It sickened me to feel as though I was simply giving up instead of fighting like I had always promised him I would, but, on the other hand, I was simply trying to protect him even after he'd shattered my heart. I didn't want to manipulate him into taking me back, tricking him into feeling a tenth of the guilt I was feeling for having ruined the one good thing in my life, and it would be far easier for us both if I were to grow up and manage to keep it civilized.
I wouldn't barge into a Film Theory lecture and cause a scene. I wouldn't be what got him fired and ended the rest of his career, both in academia and in the screenwriting world. I was better than that—or, at the very least, I wanted to believe I was a better person than that—and I still had an ounce of respect for him. I always would, even if the mere thought of attending a lecture made me so nauseous I could barely breathe, and I had to pray he'd have the same respect for me, as I had nothing left to give to myself.
All this time, everything I did had been about him and for him. Relearning how to redirect that energy, time, and effort back to myself was an uphill battle, one I doubted I was ready for or that I even deserved in the first place.
And then, as the three (technically four, as Marco had stayed behind to serve as a chauffeur) of us made our way back to the apartment and I suffocated under their watchful stares, there was still a part of me that barely held herself together past the weight of being left behind.
It was always me who was left wondering why I hadn't been enough, why I had been dropped like I'd never meant a damn thing, and it was always me who loved the most. I'd done too much, been too annoying and overbearing, and that didn't necessarily translate into loving Chase more than he'd ever loved me. The fact that I was attempting to turn it into a competition spoke volumes about the quality of my character and, deep in my soul, it didn't mean he'd loved me less just because he'd been the one to decide to end it all. It took great courage to put oneself first, but it had also taken unmeasurable cruelty to shatter my heart in the process.
It didn't matter. He'd made his decision and, no matter how badly it was destroying me—and would continue to do so for what would feel like an eternity, such was my ineptitude to get over anything that happened to me—he'd suffer if I attempted to do anything to fix it. Fixing things meant I'd be doing what I thought was the right move, only to have it crumble and disintegrate in my stupid hands, and I couldn't bear the thought of hurting him more than I already had. Reaching out across the massive depression between us would be overstepping.
After a while of silence in the car, Ingrid decided to ask Marco to take a detour so we could grab dinner from some fast food restaurant, arguing it would be exactly what we needed after the day we'd had. I froze, though no complaints were uttered, not even by me.
It felt personal, like she was doing it for my sake—I couldn't remember the last time I'd seen her stuff her face with greasy, cheesy food—and, considering they'd been throwing a party before I arrived and ruined everything, my personal brand, it was safe to assume neither she or Savannah had been having the worst day of their lives. If I looked as horrible as I currently felt, if I was being far more transparent than I would've liked for Ingrid to break her strict food rules . . .
Even with my forearm stitched and bandaged, even while sitting in Marco's car, I didn't feel safe. Everywhere I went that wasn't somewhere I'd happily be with Chase was a waiting room with warning labels plastered all over the walls, something temporary.
At least before I had graduation serving as a safety net, knowing that was all I had to wait for until my suffering would end and I got to thrive in public, but now it just marked the end of Chase's stay in the city. Even without the constraints put on our relationship by the university's rules and my parents' pressure, he would still be gone. Something temporary had become permanent, and not in the way I'd hoped. I was being pessimistic, but I also knew (or hoped I wasn't making it all up in my head) those thoughts were somehow grounded in reality, as things would never be the way they used to be at the beginning even if we rekindled them down the line once I matured and became a better person. There would be no thrill associated, the one thing that had brought us close at first, and the shadows of all that had gone wrong would forever taint anything beautiful we could aspire to build in the future.
I'd had such high hopes for the future. Even if they were unrealistic at times, the gist of it was that I envisioned us together and happy, and even that had been stolen from me, something so small and so simple. There hadn't ever been a version of my future without him, as pathetic and childishly dependent it sounded, and it felt like being uprooted.
It felt like being reminded I'd never deserved happiness after all.
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I didn't have it in me to attend Film Theory at first.
I was a weakling, a coward, and knew my limits. I knew I would never be able to face Chase and the music as though everything was normal, even if it would alert Savannah that something was amiss, but I couldn't bring myself to do it. It was the first time I voluntarily chose to skip a Film Theory lesson and, if a concussion and Chase's orders had been the only way to have done it in the past (albeit against my will), I feared for my mental and emotional state if I had fallen this deep. Even if Savannah would find it odd, even if Sarah had never trusted him and had warned me to be careful, it was too much.
Everything was too much, too overwhelming all at once. I had no coping skills to survive on my own, and the consequences of it were evident.
Savannah hadn't wanted to leave me alone at first, like I was a danger to myself (I wasn't), and pointed out that being one of the Steele 5 meant Chase would feel like he should mail me the notes for the lectures I'd miss, but I still urged her to go, that I would meet her later. Being reminded of the whole Steele 5 debacle didn't sit well with me, especially when I had to discuss it with Savannah, out of all people; sure, I'd gotten the advisee spot, but I also had done nothing productive with it. What had once been an opportunity to spend more time with Chase had turned into yet another awkward situation we'd find ourselves in, counting down the minutes until our mandatory meetings would end, and my senior project was pretty much abandoned. Savannah would have been a much better fit for the group, but I had screwed her over for the sake of a relationship that had been doomed from the start.
I'd told her I had to skip Film Theory because it started at ungodly hours of the morning and, if I wanted to start taking proper care of myself, I needed to start catching up on precious hours of sleep. That wasn't a complete lie and we all knew how exhausted I was, but I couldn't tell her the full truth without ruining Chase's entire life in the process. It felt cruel to weaponize her concern for me against her, like I even needed to feel more disgusted with myself and the way I treated everyone around me and pushed them away, but I still wasn't sure whether I could trust that concern to be genuine.
"I don't like this, Penn," she confessed, after the first week of skipping Film Theory. I didn't like it any more than she did and, if I could, I would've pointed out I was hurting a lot more than she realized, but it would only sound unnecessarily melodramatic because I wouldn't be able to explain why, either. It was a bitter pill to swallow, especially with my need to be seen and understood. "I'll be the first person to agree that you need a break, of course, but this was the only thing you ever showed the slightest enthusiasm for, and now . . ."
"Yes?"
She chewed on her bottom lip, purposefully avoiding my eyes as she stirred her peppermint mocha. "Is this because of Steele?" I clenched my hands into fists under the table. "Like, is it because he's leaving after graduation? I know he's your advisor and he's friends with your parents, but you won't even be thinking about him in just a few months. He's just a college professor, a fleeting moment in your life."
I bit my tongue, choked on my own venom. "No. It has nothing to do with him."
Savannah looked up at me through her eyelashes, looking like a wounded animal, and my heart ached. "Look, I'm just saying. I know you look up to him and really wanted to have him as your advisor, but at the end of the day that's all he is. He doesn't dictate your value as a student or as a person, and I think sometimes it's easy to . . ." She took in a sharp breath. "There's no nice way of saying this, so I'll just get straight to the point. Sometimes it's easy for people in positions of power to let it get to their heads once they realize how other people around them are dependent on them and their opinion and validation. I'm saying this because I care about you, but also because I'm like that, too, and know just how damaging it can be to one's sense of self worth. Don't move away," she begged, reaching out for my hand when I backed away from her. "I get it, Penn. I really, really do, and I understand it's not me saying all of this that's going to change the way your brain is wired, but I also need you to know you're worth so much more than that. If he doesn't want to stay, big fucking deal. Let him go, move on with your life, drop his ass. In a few months, none of it will matter."
She said those things so casually it only made me grow even more suspicious that she, much like my parents, knew more about Chase and me than she let on. She was far more transparent than they were, but she also had no obligation to spare my feelings or to want to protect me like they did—they were my family, Savannah wasn't.
Even so, even while being so vague and dropping personal references to ease me into the conversation, she was still being specific enough to raise the hair on my arms, and something about this didn't sit well with me. It was a gnawing feeling resting behind my heart, devouring everything in its way. I understood where she was coming from—it felt better to hear her say it than, say, Ingrid, as I knew she was being genuine because I knew how pathologically eager to please she'd always been—but it was being used in a way that brought me great discomfort. It was eerily similar to what Sarah had told me back in the day, too.
I hadn't screwed Sarah over and she had always adopted an extremely clear anti-Chase stance, as opposed to Savannah, who hadn't ever had a negative thing to say about him. Her opinion had only shifted in tone after she hadn't been chosen to be a part of the Steele 5, so I knew I should take it with an extra special grain of salt. I was biased—I would always be biased when it came to Chase—but so was she and it wasn't fair to use him to get a rise out of me. She wanted me to react, in a very Ingrid-like divine move.
I could sit there and continue lying to her, arguing I was definitely not upset over Chase leaving, but the longer I stayed, the higher the likelihood I'd accidentally collapse out of exhaustion and let something slip. Now more than ever, I needed to be cautious and aware of my emotions and potential breaking points, something she was possibly aware of even if she didn't quite realize it. She had all the power in her hands, the power I used to have, and I didn't like it. What made it even worse was that it felt like payback for what I'd done to her, and most of my bitterness had been brought by my rose-tinted view of her, truly believing she wouldn't step as low as I had.
"We're not the same, Sav," I said, voice still steady enough to mask my distaste for the topic. "Even if you think we are, we aren't. I've supported you this whole time. I have."
Her eyes narrowed. "And I haven't? I don't understand why you keep treating me like the enemy here. Just because I think you need to stay away from Steele before you get hurt—"
"—like you weren't head over heels for him for four fucking years. Don't be a hypocrite just because he chose me as an advisee over you."
"That's not what this is about!" Her voice was an octave higher then. "I don't care about the Steele 5; I care about you. I care about you because you're my best friend, and I know you keep breaking and bending to fit some unrealistic ideal of what you think people want you to be. The people who truly care about you, the people who truly love you will never try to change everything about you."
"I don't need him to love me; he's my professor."
"That's not even what I said and you know it, so you're just grasping at straws to find something to be angry at me for. Every single time you come out of a meeting with him, you come back looking absolutely drained and miserable, so I need to ask you if you think all of this is worth it in the end. Is it really worth it trying to please someone who doesn't think you'll ever be enough, who constantly asks for more and more from you and will never be satisfied?"
My stomach churned. It wasn't too different from my parents' observations, either, which meant I'd been doing a much worse job at concealing our relationship than I thought. I knew I hadn't looked miserable back when things were okay, especially considering it was all I was living for anyway and hung my happiness on that, and to have her lie to my face just to try to get me to admit to something I didn't want only made me feel manipulated.
It was exactly how Chase had put it all those years ago. It was what she'd been doing all along.
"I don't know, you tell me," I retorted, through gritted teeth. "Nothing I do or say is ever good enough for you. You always think I have some hidden agenda, some secret I've been keeping from you, and it's exhausting to have to second guess myself just because you won't believe a word I say. I'm fine, Savannah. You need to get off my back and Steele's. I don't know why you and my parents have suddenly started hating him and using me as an excuse."
She quirked a perfectly groomed brow. Had I told her that was the reason behind my argument with my parents? Or had I dug myself an even deeper hole? "If even your parents have noticed there's something messed up about the way that man treats you and you're all rarely ever together in the same room, then there must be some truth to it, don't you think?"
"Obviously not."
Savannah leaned forward, the ends of her hair curling over the table. "If he has ever tried anything with you, if he has ever tried to take advantage of a position of power—"
"Jesus Christ, Sav. Listen to yourself."
"You're getting defensive."
"I'm not! I think you sound ridiculous!"
"I'm worried about you! How is that ridiculous? If he's trying to take advantage of you, there are rules in place to protect you, and we can file a complaint—"
"Seriously, Sav, you need to back off. You need to mind your own goddamn business and stop trying to get involved in mine. There's nothing going on. No one took advantage of me." I reached out for my coat. "Just because he chose me over you, just because you wanted him to sleep with you and he didn't, it doesn't mean you get to project your insecurities onto me. I won. You just can't handle the fact that someone would actually choose me for once"
"Penn—"
"He chose me, Savannah. He chose me for the Steele 5 over you because I asked him to. He chose me over you and you'll have to deal with it."
Then, like the yellow bellied coward that I was, I stormed out of the café before I allowed myself to feel guilty over what I'd just said.
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now she's really done it
look. it's probably not her fault. not entirely, at least. cut her some slack (but at the same time let's all please stop being mean to baby sav)
i know there's a banner directly below this note but if you read this, PLEASE vote and/or comment. engagement is important and seeing numbers go down chapter by chapter is quite upsetting and demoralizing
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