Life, and Other Absurdities.

Rose and I managed to sleep until four, despite the constant opening and closing of the door thanks to Chastity’s frequent distressed trips to the phone booth outside, after which after she would return to the room, sit down, sigh painfully, and wait for one of us to wake up and ask what was wrong. Tired, hungover, and shaky from last night’s red-bull overdose, neither of us was in any mood to indulge her.

When we finally woke up and began to get dressed, our stomachs rumbling, we continued to ignore the increasingly pointed sighs. The chastised even let out a whimper as she gazed forlornly out the window.

Rose rolled her eyes at me. We weren't stupid. Chastity loved to have it both ways; causing drama by night and even more by day, when she announced her Guilt and Repentance and turning over of a whole new leaf. She would with shifty eyes admit to sins she may or may not have committed, and we in turn were supposed to inquire as to what exactly had happened, and make her assure us that she had been safe. After a few dozen run-throughs of this rigamarole, the only thing I was assured of was that I would never, under any circumstances, be sending my children to Catholic School.

If Chastity failed to evoke her desired response, she sometimes changed tactics, claiming her role as victim rather than sinner. She could always think up any number of ways to justify her actions, or dismiss responsibility for them completely. Once she even went so far as to claim that she was allergic to vodka, thus excusing 95% of her debaucheries over the course of the year.

Right now, she was still in self-flagellation mode.

"I can't go out tonight guys,"she stated drearily, tucking her chin to her knees. "I just can't."

Me and Rose shrugged. "Ok."

There was a pause. A sigh.

"But you guys can still go. If you really want to. Don't let me stop you."

"We were going anyway!" I said impatiently, but Rose was more diplomatic.

"Well, alright, Chastity," She said comfortingly. "If that's what you think is best."

Rose's indulgence didn't last very long. On the way to Little Italy, she and I reminisced, pointedly, about our early morning search party down these streets.

"I really don't think it was that late," Chastity protested. "Ok, when I left with him the clock on Burger King said 3:30, and a little later his phone said 5:30, so it was two hours ahead because of the time difference, you know? So then when his PHONE said 7:30, it was really 5:30, and that's about when you guys found me."

We stared at her. "Or maybe it really WAS 5:30 by the time you saw his phone the first time, making it 7:30 when we found you."

Chastity furrowed her forehead and pondered the idea for a moment.

"No," she finally shook her head. "I don't think so."

Rose and I exchanged looks and exasperated sighs. It was hopeless.

“Anyway,” Chastity continued. “I don’t want to think about it. I did some things… well… I think I did some things… that I might regret.”

She was all ready to roll, but Rose cut her off with a wave of the hand.

"No one wants to hear it, Chastity." She said. "Go to a clinic when we get back to France if you need to. Right now, the most important thing is pizza."