Alone with the TV (1), first re-write

She had lost count of how many times the television had gone through its cycle. The pattern was familiar. There were the annoying local access channels, one with a college lecture, the next with a city council meeting. Others followed in foreign languages. Nothing good was ever on them.

Waste of time. It was all a waste of time.

Mark and Jana had both called. Both offered to stop by.

A smirk. What if they both showed up at the same time, and saw each other. That wouldn't go over so well.

"Ugh."

Next were the two channels with the religious programming. The first was some guy with too much hair gel (don’t you realize that you’re living a negative stereotype?) preaching in an enormous mega-church.

The second was that woman with long brown hair, who had the strange vocal inflections... she reminded Shannon of the way David Mamet characters speak in some of his movies. She was always teaching some class, like you would sit through in Sunday school. The subject matter was repellant, but the way the woman spoke was fascinating.

She didn't really focus on the channels now. Her thumb would flex at regular intervals without the content registering. She had long since given up hope of finding something to watch, and seemed to be doing a chore.

Washing the dishes. Doing the laundry. Flipping through channels. It’s all the same thing.

A part of her would've liked to have seen Jana tonight, or Mark for that matter, but she had stopped herself from returning their phone calls. She wasn't ready to see anyone. She wanted to be alone. She wanted to be safe.

And everything seemed so pointless. Sure, she could talk to Jana, but it wouldn't change anything. Nothing that she or Jana could say would make things better, at least not yet. All in all, it was better to be alone.

Jana would try, she wouldn't be able to help herself.

Shannon rolled her eyes to the ceiling at the thought.

"Then I would just lose it."

A wave of feelings came, again, as if on cue. She reached over for another tissue from the night stand next to her bed. There was no sobbing this time, just a few tears. Her eyes felt sore from the crying and the tissue.

"God, you're pathetic."

She said it, but she didn't feel it. It could've been a bold statement, but she didn't feel anything bold enough to justify the words.

She was filled with a sense of loss, acute pain passing now and then, bringing more tears, and then chiding from some part of her who wanted to be above it all.

Mark would've been manageable. He would've tried to be supportive, and probably would've said the wrong thing at the wrong time, but otherwise been harmless.

It occurred to Shannon that lying in her bed, in Mark's arms, would be better than just lying in her bed, alone, as she was now. She considered calling him.

She did not want to call him over just to sit here and listen to her cry.

"I look awful, I feel awful, I just want to be alone."

She sounded far less convincing that she had earlier. She bit her lip, and thought that maybe she didn't really want to be alone.

Would Jana be angry?

Of course, if she found out.

She looked over at her cell phone on the nightstand, next to her trusty box of tissue.

A loud-mouthed sports announcer startled her for a moment. Shit. College basketball. She liked playing basketball, but couldn’t stand watching it. She changed the channel again.

Was that a sign?

She reached for her phone.