I Fear my Pain Interests you: A novel by Stephanie LaCava

Author:Stephanie LaCava
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Verso

XIX

On days like that, I had to shower to feel dry. It was always damp there. I learned this quickly. My first week was spent in bed, listening. I collapsed as soon as I got inside. Had no appetite, no energy, and I’m not sure which came first or caused the other.

There were moments when I thought about getting up and walking to town, and at these times I also imagined running into the minivan driver again. Or getting her if I called a car on my phone. For some reason she haunted me, however awkwardly, like the four deep holes in the front yard. One morning I made what felt like a genuine effort to get up and explore the grounds, but after a moment’s distraction I found myself back in the fetal position on the master bedroom floor, the source of the feeling unclear. What was the loss?

Attending my own graduation? I didn’t give a fuck. Some asshole. Yes. That was it. And it wasn’t even him, not really, but the absence of a narrative for what had happened. All this speculation, a sad little cliffhanger. My daydreams ran from good to bad to good again. He would be back. Wait, no, it was over. Done. Gone. Arrivederci, Director. But then again, who knows! And around again we go. It felt pathetic to be so upset, to dare claim that at some point there had been some kind of disconnect, a denial, one that led to the inevitable. I was aware that when I told myself the story, whatever flavor of it I fancied that day, it was never me at fault. And I knew there was a lot wrong with me. Lots! But I also knew that he had gamed it so I had no agency. And I believed what his actions showed me about myself. This is the dangerous thing about a breakup with someone so much older and so much more accomplished when you are young, desirous of credibility and short on self-love: when he goes, he rips those little medals right off your chest and carries them away with him.

One might advance the case of my parents as a counterargument and point out that, once the media clocked them together, the benefits of joint cachet lasted forever; the association ran on beyond their relationship’s full stop. As if that credibility was always there. The reality was a little different. Another kind of cognitive dissonance. And I saw it hurting my mother when she wasn’t looking. She wanted to control everything. Lucy once explained that the opposite of love—vulnerable love—was control. And my whole family was obsessed with control. While simultaneously harping on about resistance to state or corporate interference, and slipping that control. So confusing, always.

I didn’t care about eating, only sleeping and not thinking. Josephine called every day at the same time, saying she was worried about me. I assured her I was fine and asked after my mother. Her response was always the same dismissive sound.

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