Sunday, December 24, 2017

T

oday is Christmas Eve. The past five days have been a whirlwind of misery. The boys have isolated me in order to avoid any further violence that could ensue if my presence were to instigate their testosterone levels and cause a dogfight.

Quite literally, I've gone upstairs each day only to retrieve food from the kitchen, each time to receive Jack's cold shoulder. Jack would not dare to even look in my direction. Each time I appeared, he turned the other way to leave to the roof.

Brett retreated similarly to the master bedroom across from the kitchen. He locked himself in to avoid the tension. He and I were both mad George had told Jack about how Brett leaned over me on the floor while we exercised weeks ago.

As for George he kept his head down and never set his eyes on me.

However, what surprised me to the point of sadness was that Travis played along with the other boys: He ignored me as well. I had a feeling that he knew Jack would grow enraged if his dearest friend Travis did not exile me, the girl who cheated on him.

I have gone on for six days with the silent treatment. Which is sad because a few days ago George remembered it was Hanukah and the boys threw a Chanukah party. Upstairs they played their instruments and drank alcohol on the roof. When I tried to go join the party, I discovered they had locked the door to the roof. I was left to listen to them play their saxophone, trumpet, and bassoon they each had brought with them. The music was so joyful, (and nowhere sloppy even though they had been drinking.) I listened to the vibrations through the walls and could hear them jumping and dancing through the ceiling. The ocean waves called up to me in my loneliness. I sat alone on the couch in a moping Eeyore fashion wishing I was up there with them.

I walked over to the kitchen to look at the food in the cabinets, craving saltine crackers. (Unfortunately I had already eaten my microwavable TV dinner.)

I then made the mistake of looking for Craig, just to get some company. I guess I've always feared loneliness.

(When I was four and I struggled to socialize, my mother told me humans need friends to make happy hormones (serotonin). Afraid I would never be happy unless I made lots of friends, I introduced myself to all three hundred kids at daycare. Everyone remembered me, introduced me to more friends, and I carried these connections to high school and beyond. (It's amazing how playmates establish networks.) My parents paid top dollar to unite me with trust fund babies and involve me in social gatherings. The game of wealth favors the gated suburbanites, and the coin is tossed in the crib.)

But now I socialize with no one. In a place I cannot escape.

Sometimes I think it's worth it to just end my life in my misery now, as my exile seemed to completely deplete my happy hormones. I could jump off the edge of the fourth story balcony and end it all, or go downstairs to the cellar to drink sweet wine or the bitterest whiskey until alcohol poisoning ends my lonely suffering.

But instead I went to see Craig in his room. Except--

When I reached the second floor and came to his bedroom to knock, I opened his door, but Craig was not there. I then went to the library where the religious texts he loved lay, and found he was not there either. I then made a heavy search everywhere throughout the house. But under the musical winds of the rooftop Chanukah band, I could not find Craig. Was Craig on that roof? A part of me knew he was not. Craig was no longer allowed to spend time with Jack—Jack was too mad at Craig to allow Craig into Jack's new clique that comprised of a now quiet Brett, a happily neutral George, and a disappointed but loyal Travis.

Where was Craig? I went downstairs to investigate the only place left to check. And alas, when I came to the wine cellar door, I found something peculiar. . . it was closed for once. When I pulled the door to the cellar, it was locked.

Craig was probably locked away in there! I banged my fist on the door to get Craig's response.

"Craig! Can you hear me? Are you alright?"

To my horror, there was no response at all.