offer. I’d just get his number from Rachel and text him, hinting that I was really craving good company at a nice restaurant. It was my fatal flaw to assume everything would work itself out and so, I shouldn’t have been at all surprised to see David leaning against my car, looking like he could murder someone.
I approached him cautiously, like a child who had dirtied their new and expensive Sunday clothes. He didn’t say anything when I reached him, but he simply stared at me, a mixture of disbelief, anger, and hurt on his beautiful face. I didn’t know what to say, though I knew I owed him some sort of explanation. My embarrassment flooded together with my stupid pride, telling me that I didn’t have to explain myself to anyone. I looked down at the ground, refusing to speak first, and biting my lip to keep from telling him how sorry I was. How much I wanted to keep him in my life. How stupid it was of me to take on another job after promising I wouldn’t. How much it hurt me that I’d lied to him. How I wanted him to forgive me and forget the whole thing.
Of course, I said none of that and just continued to stare at the ground. He looked for a moment as if he might say something, but then shut his mouth and walked away without a word, his face a mask of disappointment and sadness. The wetness on my cheeks served as a cruel reminder of my own stupidity. It seemed like I had been crying a lot that week.
Chapter Nineteen
David didn’t come to pick me up for our date that night, though I wasn’t sure if I had really expected him to. What I did expect was an angry phone call or email. I expected an angry anything, really. Anything would have been better than the silence I experienced that Friday night. My mother was out, as usual, and I was beginning to wonder if she was just going to stay at some other house now that we’d had our little encounter. The house was completely empty and silent, just like my life. I had tried to call David several times, but he never picked up. I left at least four messages telling him I was sorry and that if he’d just let me talk to him I could explain everything, but it seemed like no matter what I did, he didn’t feel compelled to call me back.
Saturday passed much in the same way. I saw my mother briefly in the kitchen as she was on her way out the door. She gave me a little nod of her head by way of a greeting but said nothing. I had finished my homework for the entire weekend the night before, which left me with absolutely nothing to do. I tried to paint, but found that I couldn’t think of a single thing that would make me feel better.
After hours of sitting around staring at my paints, I picked up the phone and called Rachel.
“Hello?” said a groggy voice. It was almost one in the afternoon, so the fact that Rachel was still sleeping was quite a feat.
“Hey, it’s Amelia,” I said dully. “I was just wondering if Alex has broken up with you yet.” Under any other circumstances that sentence would have sounded incredibly rude and out of place, but as it stood, it was really the only reason I could be calling Rachel.
“Not yet. He hasn’t called me all weekend though, so I’m assuming that’s a good sign. Maybe he’s thinking it over and trying to find a way to let me down easy.” She laughed at this, though I didn’t see what was so amusing about it. “Anyways, if he doesn’t call me on Sunday, I’ll just ditch school Monday to give you another chance at getting him to do it. After that, I’m rescinding my offer.”
“Don’t worry, I’ll take care of it,” I said unenthusiastically.
“I figured you would,” she said, and then the line went dead. I was beginning to notice that none of my clients seemed to posses the ability to say “good-bye” to end their phone conversations. They all just kind of hung up. Maybe it was because in their eyes I was more like the hired help-more like a vending machine than a human being. I ran my fingers through my blonde, messy hair, fully aware that I hadn’t brushed it that morning, and searched through the contact list on my phone. I now had six numbers saved rather than just five, though it didn’t make much of a difference, since that sixth number wouldn’t answer my calls.
I hit send when the scroll illuminated David’s name and got his voicemail once again.
“Hey, David, it’s Amelia. I know you’re probably sick of all the messages I’ve left you, but I just want to talk. You can’t really want to throw everything away without at least talking first, can you?” I paused for a second, though I knew the voicemail certainly wasn’t going to answer me. “Anyway, I’m really sorry, and if you just let me explain, we might be able to work this out.”
I paused again, feeling the urge to say something I knew was crazy after having only known this boy for such a short amount of time. Still, there it was, completely overpowering me and making me unable to think about anything other than David. It was that one emotion I thought didn’t exist in the world. The one that I knew would probably scare him away if I uttered it when our relationship was in danger of falling apart. In the end, though, my feelings won out and I said the thing I knew I should just keep to myself. And that’s how I ended my voicemail to him.
“I love you.”
Saturday night came and went with absolutely no response from David, and I wallowed in my own self-pity. I knew I was being pathetic and love struck, but it felt like misery was just that much more intense after everything had been so perfect. I felt completely at a loss now that my other half was missing. I wouldn’t have felt this if I hadn’t known how wonderful it felt to be with someone you’re so completely in tune with in the first place. The whole thing left me feeling empty, and I fell asleep that night crying.
Sunday morning passed without my notice. I didn’t wake until two in the afternoon. Suddenly I felt like Rachel had the right idea, sleeping the day away. Nothing seemed so horrible if you just shut out the world for a while. I walked through the house to see if my mom was home, but found no one. I didn’t even find a note saying she was out with a client. I guess she knew I’d just assume she was out with someone now, though “client” wasn’t really the term I’d use.
I ate an apple and checked my phone for any new messages or missed calls but was met with nothing. I tried to ignore the sharp pain this left right above my stomach and decided to be semi-productive and take a long hot shower. I washed my hair thoroughly and scrubbed my skin until it felt raw, trying to wash away the creeping feeling that I had ruined something truly amazing. As I continued to endure the rest of this long day by myself, I spent time on all of the little extras. I needed anything to keep my mind occupied.
By the time I was done with my routine, I had perfectly curled hair, expertly applied makeup, and absolutely nowhere to go. I had, luckily, eaten up some time in the day, and I noticed that the sun was beginning to make its way toward the distant mountain range. I had gotten Rachel to give me Alex’s number with the compromise that I’d go out on a date with him that Monday night, even though that was the furthest thing from what I wanted to be doing.
With nothing left for me to waste my time on, I went into the living room to watch some TV. There had to be something on that could distract me from my current state. As I went to sit on the couch, my foot hit something hard on the floor, causing me to yelp with pain. I looked down angrily to locate the source of my annoyance, only to see the corner of David’s laptop sticking out from under the couch.
I quickly picked up my phone and texted David, excited that he still had some obligation to see me so that I could explain everything.
“You left your laptop at my house,” I texted, sending the message the second I had hit the last letter. Sitting back on the couch with his computer on my lap I smiled triumphantly. At least things were looking up a little. The green light on David’s computer blinked at me, indicating that even though the screen was closed, the computer was still on.
“That can’t be good,” I thought aloud, thinking I should probably turn the thing off before giving it back to him. When I opened the screen the same word processor popped up that he’d been typing on after dinner. I glanced at it for a moment, not because I actually intended to read it, but simply because that’s where my eyes had fallen. When I read the name “Amelia” on the screen I froze. What could David possibly be writing about me? Was this some sort
