Chapter 5: Then You Go and Cut Me Down, But Wait

I sat in my room, and munched on popcorn. It was four thirty, and I was halfway through episode four of the Sopranos First Season on DVD. I decided to indulge, and watch the entire series. Rachel had gone home at this point, telling me to call her if I wanted to talk, and I was left alone. Mom and Dad went golfing at the club, and I was stuck with what was now sixteen missed calls, ten voice mail, and eighteen text messages.

So I tagged along while Brooke went grocery shopping. First I made her go to the nearest Best Buy, and buy all the available Sopranos on DVD. Once we got to the supermarket, it got kind of challenging. I tagged along while she got everything on the list, and then got the popcorn, ice cream, candy, and chips that were a must after a breakup (but wait, had we really broken up? Yeah we had). I handled the popcorn, candy, and ice cream perfectly fine, but the chips aisle was difficult. Whenever we reached that aisle in the past, I always went for the same thing: Roll Gold pretzels, the small ones.

They were his favorite food, and he had, of course, gotten me completely hooked on them. They were one of the only chips I could handle.

So I had to go for second best, my mother's favorite. Barbecue chips with sour cream. Yeah, it sounds disgusting, but it's actually really good.

So I got it, and added it to the cart.

Once we had paid, and were in the car, we went back home.

At an intersection a few blocks away, we got stuck at a red light. And who should pull up in the next car but Luke and his housekeeper, shopping as well.

I ducked, and pretending to search for a fallen hair elastic.

"What are you doing?" Brooke asked me.

"Don't talk to me ... Luke and Annabelle are in the car next to us," she looked, all the housekeepers were like best friends (the parents were friends, and the kids were too ... it worked out perfectly! I know, totally stereotypical). "No! Don't be obvious!"

And I watched her wave to Annabelle before we continued driving.

And my cell phone started ringing.

"Call from ... Luke."

So me, the Sopranos, and a shit-load of junk food. It was actually a humorous sight.

I stuck a Sour Patch in my mouth as I rewound to catch a line I had missed. I was playing the DVDs on my laptop, it had a DVD player on it.

Then a pebble landed on my bed.

I had left the French doors open, and someone was pulling the whole "Let me throw rocks at your window to get your attention." Except the doors were open, and instead it should have been "Let me throw rocks at you to get your attention."

I paused the DVD, and got up, going over to the doors. The curtains were billowing around in the breeze. I stepped out onto the balcony, and had to miss getting pegged again. Once I reached the railing, I saw him.

Luke, about to let another pebble fly.

He dropped his arm.

"Lauren! Come down! We have to talk!" he looked upset. He was wearing the same clothes he had been wearing yesterday, and had bags and dark circles under his eyes.

I turned and went back inside, shutting the doors.

I pressed play, and turned up to the volume to ignore the sound of his shouts.

Five hours, and four and a half episodes later, I found myself faced with the following question ... to go out or to not go out? Rachel wanted to get me out of my house, but I didn't think I would be moving anywhere, any time fast. I hadn't showered yet, felt like I had gained two hundred pounds from the junk food, and didn't feel like going out ... so I wouldn't have to see Luke.

Yet she was being really persistent.

"Come on Lauren! Everyone's going to CPK! You have to come!"

"No, I look like shit."

"Lauren, everyone will be there. They're all expecting you to show up, and prove him wrong."

"Look, I said I didn't want to."

"Look Lauren, you have to. As a popular cheerleader, you have to go. It's like, required."

"Look, I don't fucking feel like it okay?"

"Fine. I was just trying to help you, okay? But you obviously don't want the help..."

"Rach ... it's not that I don't want the help ... it's just..."

"What? It's just what?"

I was fed up with her at this point. "I was going to explain that I don't want to run into Luke, or see any of the other couples, okay? I feel bad enough as it is, I'm not going to go around throwing myself into uncomfortable and stupid situations."

"Fine. I'm going."

"Enjoy yourself," I said, as sarcastically as possible.

And I hung up.

God, was everything going to the grave now that Luke and I were over? I hoped not.

By the time I went to sleep that night, I had twenty missed calls, twelve voice mail, and twenty four text messages.

I turned off my phone, in hopes that he would get the message, and leave me the fuck alone.

Yet when I woke up, the number of voice mails had increased to seventeen.

"Mom..."

"What, honey? You should be getting ready!"

"Look, I don't really feel up for it right now..."

"When things are looking down in life, that is the exact moment that you have to get more spiritually involved, so God can help you through it."

I felt like throwing up with all this religious talk. Yes, we went to church, all of us to the same church. And of course, we were all very religious, yada yada yada. I didn't fucking feel like it. But I knew that if I kept up the fight, I could find myself faced with a guilt trip, forced to go, and worse.