“Hey, it’s me again. Listen, I know that yesterday was really weird and awkward but…we really need to talk. I mean, I understand if you don’t feel the same, its fine.”
He paused, wondering if he should say more. “Anyway, you can give me a call, or, you know, you can stop by. Either way works, I guess. I’ll see you later. Bye.”
He hung up the phone and began pacing the apartment, hoping that at some point he would get the expected call. It had been two days since he had last seen her. And he could not help but think of her, of her porcelain face and crystalline eyes that were frozen when he said it.
He sat on the couch and turned on the TV, hoping to be distracted for a time. But there was nothing to be found, unless he wanted to watch mindless infomercials and reruns of shows he had never heard of. Nevertheless, he kept it on to drown out his thoughts for the time.
As he sat watching a woman trying to sell a slow cooker, he thought back to the last time he saw her. It was a gorgeous day, the clouds like fluffy puffs of white cotton candy and the trees in full autumn bloom. They were in Central Park, walking through the “Strawberry fields”. He didn’t remember what they were talking about before it happened, and he wasn’t paying attention to what she was saying. All he could focus on was her, just her in this breezy white dress and sandals, seemingly floating above the ground she walked, like a goddess amongst mortals. She was smiling, revealing her snow white teeth that lit up her face.
They were walking down this path, and for no particular reason, without any rational thinking, he said it. He did not know why he said it, maybe because he was so overwhelmed by her, so elated and ecstatic because of her, that he could not help but let it slip from his thoughts.
He thought of her reaction as the 1-800 number appeared on the bottom of the screen. It seemed like a dreamlike fairy tale that had suddenly begun to be penned by Poe. She had stopped and stood in front of him, and just glared coldly at him.
“Did I do something wrong?” he remembered asking her. She had just huffed and stormed off, leaving him standing in the middle of the “field”, very confused and his heart torn to shreds.
“Come back! What did I do to you? All I said was that I love you!”
There it was. The phrase that was said over and over again by one to another across this vast world of ours. He didn’t believe that someone would be angry over a statement of affection, of undying love and commitment. And yet it evoked a hate inside of her that he had never seen in her since they had met.
“Now, using this is as easy as turning on a light switch.” The woman on the TV was demonstrating the “convenience” of the slow cooker.
As he sat there, he wondered if he should leave another message. Maybe he should go over to her house to see if she was there. He didn’t know of anything else to do besides sit here watching an old woman make pot roast.
All this time, he had continued wondering what he did wrong. Or if he did anything wrong for that matter. For the two days, he wondered how opening your soul and revealing yourself would make anyone mad. Or was it something else? Was it because he wasn’t paying attention to what she was talking about? Or was there something that she had not told him?
Either way, he knew that there had to be something else besides moping around his apartment, waiting for a phone call or a doorbell to ring. He needed to be outside in the fresh evening air. With this resolution in mind, he turned off the screen as the woman was turning on the slow cooker and got up from the couch, which hadn’t been cleaned in days. He then put on a jacket, scrambled down the stairs, and walked outside.
The night air refreshed his lungs as he briskly walked down the street, going with no purpose. He didn’t know where he was going and did not care. All he wanted was to keep walking, and try to put her out of his head.
He stopped at a stoplight, waiting for the walking sign to flash, giving him the signal to cross. As he was standing there, someone came up beside him. He caught the scent of perfume, filled with sweet smelling flowers and what aromas they had mixed in that created that aromatic air surrounding the corner. He turned around to see who could be wearing the enchanting scent and saw the cause of his psychological torture. It was her.
He stood aghast, thinking of whether she had seen him, or if he should say something to her. Then she turned towards him and jumped back, as if she had seen a ghost.
“Oh. Hey.” She did not make eye contact with him and stared at the grey concrete beneath her feet.
“Hi. Um, I called. Left a voice message.”
“Yeah, I, um, I got that.” She then turned towards the crossing sign, its red hand still held up in stern command.
“I was wondering if we could talk.” He shuffled his feet, wondering what she would say.
“Oh, well, I’m kind of on my way to this thing for work, so I really can’t right now. How about tomorrow?”
“That’s fine. That’s fine. Where do you want to meet?”
“How about that coffee shop near 12th street? Sometime around lunch maybe?”
“Okay then.” He could feel his pulse rapidly beating.
Finally, the white neon person appeared on the sign, giving the signal to cross.
“I guess I’ll see you later then?” He decided not to cross, but to turn back and go back to his apartment. He needed the sleep.
“Yeah, I guess I’ll see you.” She turned to cross and disappeared into the street.
As he walked home, he felt as if his future was now taking a turn into a darkness that was unforeseeable. And as he tossed and turned in his bed alone that night, he felt scared and anxious about the date that was to come.
Ellie T. is a rising junior at Cave Spring High School and a self-proclaimed geek. When not trapped inside the twisted workings of her imagination, she enjoys reading eclectic sets of books (many from 18th, 19th, and 20th century Russia), and is currently recovering from her AP World History class. She has recently completed her first novel and is currently working on a second one, and has high hopes of getting them published someday.
