Build You Up

It's almost midnight, and I'm walking hurriedly down the grimy streets leading to Barry's apartment. The disappointment in his voice when I told him I wasn’t feeling well and wasn’t coming over has been plaguing me for hours. It was the night. The night we were supposed to connect for the first time. Intimately. Sex. We were going to have sex for the first time. My first time. I chickened out at the last minute, scared of the unknown.

Now, I’m on my way to his place, finally finding the courage to take the leap. Barry and I have been dating for a couple of months, and I really like him. Maybe even love him. I’m scared, but I think I’m ready to finally do this. I have to be. We are about to move in together. Sleeping with him isn't as big of a commitment as that.

I lived a very sheltered life before college. My parents were controlling, especially my dad. I was like a scared rabbit when I flew across the country to attend university in California. Barry helped me come out of my shell in the classes we shared, befriending me my first year here. He always sat beside me, would invite me to lunch, and made me feel less anxious about being on my own for the first time.

I was a naive little country girl, with no social experience outside of church and my homeschool co-op, and adjusting to college life in a big city was scary, to say the least. Being shy and awkward, Barry was one of the only other students that I talked to. He would go out of his way to include me in class discussions and would partner up with me for projects, making me feel less lonely. I gained some friends over time and learned to open up more. It was all thanks to Barry.

My parents died last year and I took a leave of absence from school, unsure of what to do now that I was alone in the world. They left me well off, but money can’t fill that void or erase the guilt. I refused to come home that Christmas before their accident, claiming I had a big project for school. That was a lie. I just didn’t want to go home, put on a fake smile, and be paraded around to all my father’s end-of-the-year parties and church events. I had my taste of freedom and was reluctant to go back to Kansas where there was nothing but cornfields and my parent's high expectations. I had started wearing make-up, dressing in trendier clothes, and listening to music that wasn't just country and Christian music. Instead of facing their disappointment and judging comments, I stayed in San Fransisco. Now they're gone forever, all thanks to a drunk driver when they were driving home from Topeka.

After their death, I wallowed around in a bed of self-pity and grief. I had no other family, and the superficial friends I had made at school couldn't handle my baggage and dispair. I was all alone.

I ran into Barry again by accident while going to the pharmacy for my antidepressants. He invited me to lunch, then held me close, listening to my sorrows and allowing me to cry in his arms for hours. I finally found someone willing to comfort me and make me feel like I wasn't alone in the world. He’s been helping to put the pieces of me back together ever since.

I can trust him. I may be scared, but he’s seen me at my worst. I’m ready.

I went to his apartment and used my key to enter. I didn’t tell him I had changed my mind. Imagining his surprised face when I woke him up spurred me on as I walked over here.

As I got near his bedroom, groaning and panting stopped me in my tracks. Is he watching porn? 

“Bare, harder. Fuck me harder, Barry!” A feminine voice full of desperate passion makes my heart drop.

“Yes, baby! Do you like that? Does that pussy like daddy’s dick?” His voice brings tears to my eyes. Is he really screwing some other girl just hours after talking to me? He told me he would wait for me, but clearly, he wasn't planning on waiting by himself. I feel shattered. 

The bedroom door is open slightly, and when I peak in, I want to puke. Barry has Jessica, his coworker at the restaurant he works at, on all fours, pounding into her from behind.

“Daddy, harder. Spank my ass. Spank my ass, Barry.”

Barry growls and complies. I gasped in surprise at the impact, making his head jerk toward the door, his eyes meeting mine, and his face dropped. 

“Missy,” he mutters, panic etching his face.

“Uh, no. Jessica. Don’t call me that bitch’s name. You said she couldn’t satisfy-“

Barry jumps up, pushing her over before she can finish, and takes a hurried step towards me, his hands trying to cover his junk, still glistening in her sickening wetness. 

I’m done. I’m not waiting around for this. If she wants him, she can have him. I’m done. I turned, running for the door. 

“Missy, wait!” He calls after me, but I’m gone before he gets out the bedroom door. Fuck him. How fucking dare he make me feel guilty when he’s getting it from someone else.

I ran all the way home. My small studio apartment overlooking Pier 39 is about a mile from his apartment in Chinatown. I push through the burning in my chest and the pain in my heart, desperate to get home so I can break down and cry in private.

My apartment was all packed up. Everything is in boxes. My sub-lease was up and I was going to move in with Barry, sharing the cost of living in the expensive city with him. Not anymore. He can go fuck himself, Jessica, or anyone else for that matter. I’m done with him.

My phone vibrates nonstop for hours. I just sit in the middle of my bed, rocking back and forth on the squeaky mattress, crying my eyes out, waiting for the heartache to end.

When morning’s light comes, pounding on my door breaks me from my trance of sorrow. 

“Missy, open the door. Let me explain!”

I grab my headphones, putting them over my ears and putting death metal music on to drown out his voice. I’m so glad I took my keys back from him so I could turn them in to the landlord. He can knock all he wants, but he’s not getting in.

I eventually fell into a restless, exhausted sleep, not waking until late afternoon. The pounding on my door has stopped, and my phone is dead. I don’t even want to charge it to turn it on. What’s the point?

Barry was the only person I thought I had left to depend on. Now I have no one.

I stumble off my bed, my body sore from the exertion of running and grieving last night, and peek out the front door. He’s gone, but he left a note begging me to call him. Screw him. He can call Jessica.

I need a change. There’s nothing for me here in this busy city. He was my only attachment after leaving school, but that’s over now. There is literally nothing left for me here. Nothing is lonelier than being alone in a city this busy, watching as everyone else lives a full and busy life while you have nothing. I long for the seclusion of country life, where you can be alone, and be content.

I threw on a dark hoodie, then grabbed my laptop, quickly changing my phone number and blocking Barry’s number on my online account for my cell service. Then, I booked a Uhaul online, waiting for my phone to charge. I’m done with this city. I need a break. I have 2 years left before I need to decide if I want to return to school. I’m not spending it here.