(no subject)
student teacher for english decided to assign us a short story... creative writing kinda thing.. no boundaries. so hey, why the hell not put it here. its fiction. and this is my writing journal. so like.. it fits. and i actually kind of like this one =] i stole one of my favorite author [chuck palahniuk]'s writing techniques, too. repetition kicks ass =D
Title: Forget Me, It’s That Simple
Date: 03-22-05
Genre: class assignment, creative writing
Summary: She loved him… and she liked to think he loved her, too.
Forget Me, It's That Simple
She smiled to herself as she watched him work the small, cramped area energetically from backstage. Back and forth he went, jumping, turning, twisting, falling to his knees, springing back up, all the while never missing a note or beat. His voice was perfect, as were the chords he was playing. The song being played ended abruptly, as planned, and the lights dimmed. She knew there was one song left. She knew what song it was. She knew the words, she knew the melody. She knew every song the band had ever attempted to play just as well as she knew the lead vocalist/guitar player.
Again, she fought a smile as the lights came on and she caught him glance her way. One wink from him made her heart skip a beat. He was hers, just like she was his. She loved everything about him from his piercing blue eyes to the wacky way he tied his shoes. She liked to think she knew everything about him, and him about her. She liked to think there were no secrets between the two of them. She liked to think he was her future.
She sighed and leaned her body against the wall to her left as they reached the bridge of the song. When she listened to music, she liked to think. She liked to close her eyes and think. But she’d never once closed her eyes when he was on stage. She watched him intently through every performance. And she grinned through a good percent of every show. She couldn’t help herself. She was so proud of him. He was doing what he loved. And he was happy with it. Sure, they only played a few shows a month at a local underground club and sure, they didn’t have the biggest following, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. She knew he’d like to make it big someday, but it wasn’t the most important thing in the world. There were things that meant more to him than his band, his music. She liked to think she was one of those things.
The song ended with a few extra, powerful drum beats and the small crowd of teens in front of the band erupted in applause and cheers. There may not have been a significantly huge amount of people attending their shows, but the ones that did show up were more than enough. One final thank you and the four guys began gathering their equipment and unplugging their instruments and amps. The lights were all on and the air was filled with smoke from the kids in the crowd’s bad habits. She pushed her long dirty blonde hair behind her ears and sauntered onto the stage, aware that the floor was now clearing out and the only people left in the building in five minutes would be the people who played and the people who ran the club.
Carefully, she stepped over the bass guitar on the stage in front of her and headed towards him. He was down on the floor, his back to her, shaking hands with a guy in jeans and a black hoodie. He may have had the look of any stereotypical band member, but she had a feeling he was supposed to be important. This wasn’t just a fan wanting to meet the band. Sensing the conversation he was having wasn’t something she needed to participate in, she took a seat on the edge of the stage and pulled her hands into the arms of her own hoodie. Now that the small room was empty, a cool draft was able to make its way inside. It may have been comforting to the guys who had been overheated under the bright lights a few minutes ago, but it sent a slight shiver through her.
She looked down at her shoes as she swung her legs back and forth, trying to be patient. She hated waiting, but she always dealt with it. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. She felt strong, warm arms suddenly embrace her and as she drew her breath in, she immediately recognized the smell of his cologne. Quickly, he pulled away, put a hand on either side of her, and grinned.
“Guess what,” he said, his excitement blatant.
“What?” she asked, fighting a smile. She never guessed. She hated guessing. Because she hated the risk of being wrong.
“We’re getting signed!” he exclaimed, shaking her as he spoke. Immediately, her jaw dropped. Was he serious?
“Are you serious?” she managed to get out as she stared directly into his eyes, which were big and held more happiness than she thought possible. He nodded vigorously in response to her question and was met by a shriek. “You’re getting signed!” she shouted before flinging herself on him. She kissed him hard before a familiar voice behind them questioned their celebration.
The good news spread rapidly to not only the other three band members, but to the men that ran the club, as well. And as if they were high school girls, they ran and told anyone who was still hanging around in the parking lot outside. Kids began to flock back into the small room and congratulations were immediately shared all around.
In the midst of the commotion, she held tightly to his hand. She was so proud of them, so proud of him. This didn’t mean they were definitely going to make it, but it was better than nothing. It was a start to something. What that something was, she didn’t quite know, but she liked to think it was something special. Something different. Something amazing.
As more fans moved into the room to talk to the band, she felt his grip on her hand loosen and before she knew it, she’d completely lost him to the overwhelmingly pushy crowd around her. It hadn’t seemed like there were this many people in attendance when she’d watched from the side of the stage. Brow furrowed, she excused her way through the darkly dressed teens until she was at the stage. She hoisted herself onto the edge again and crossed her legs at the ankles while she pulled her hoodie close to her. From her spot, she could barely see him. He was being swarmed, and by the look on his face, she could tell he was enjoying every minute of it.
“They’re gonna make it,” a voice said beside her. The person belonging to it stepped out of his position in the shadows and sat down next to her. “I can already tell… they’ll do pretty well for themselves,” the guy in the black hoodie said with a nod in the direction toward the chattering crowd.
Sighing, she looked down at her arms, which were crossed across her chest. She wanted to be happy for them. But for some reason, she had the feeling this wasn’t going to be as great as she thought it would.
The next few months seemed to fly by at lightning speed. The band was signed and immediately rushed into the studio where they wrote and produced a record on a small label. With the announcement that the CD was completed came the announcement that they were leaving for a three month, east coast, promotional tour. The band couldn’t be more ecstatic. And she couldn’t be more scared.
“I’m gonna be a rock star,” he grinned as he threw himself onto the couch in her living room a week before he was due to leave. He laid back and propped his head up on a blue corduroy pillow as he watched her shove her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and smile. “I can’t wait to play that first show. To greet a different city. To meet new kids. God, I hope they like us,” he thought aloud. He turned his head to her and asked, “Do you think they’ll like us?”
She sighed. “Of course they will,” she assured him. She knew they would. How could anyone not? They had talent like no other, their lyrics were mature, but simple enough to understand what they were trying to say. They weren’t like other bands. They were original. They were themselves. And if they didn’t like the music, they sure as hell were going to like the guys that played it. Not only were all four of the guys attractive, but they were the most down to earth people that ever existed.
“Promise?” he asked, patting the spot beside him on the couch when he caught her eye, which had been drifting around the room, looking at everything except for him.
“Promise,” she said, quietly, making her way across the living room and sitting down in the designated spot. He pulled her down next to him and she buried her face in his shirt, immediately finding comfort in the arms that held her close. She was going to miss him. And she liked to think he’d miss her, as well. They’d never been apart the whole year or so they’d been together. This was going to be more than difficult for her, and hopefully for him, too.
“You alright?” he asked her, running his fingers through her soft hair. She pulled away from him slightly and examined his face. She was going to miss that beautiful face. And that dark hair. Those blue eyes. That perfect nose. That gorgeous smile. How was she going to make it through the next few months?
“You’re gonna call me all the time, right?” she asked him, cuddling close to him, wanting to stay where she was forever. This was all she needed. He was all she needed. And she liked to think he felt the same.
“Mhm,” he responded, letting her lace his fingers with his own.
“I love you,” she whispered lightly into his chest. When she didn’t get a reply back, she tried to ignore the twinge of fear that went through her. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, she told herself. Either way, she let it go and closed her eyes, trying to focus on what she had. She needed to embrace it now more than ever because in a week, he wouldn’t be there.
The end of winter was bitter for her, outside and inside. She spent it cold and alone, not enjoying the snow and enjoying the downtime she had even less. She hated not having someone to meet with to ruin the fresh snow in the middle of the night. She hated not having someone to hold her and warm her up while she waited to get into the club. She hated not having a Valentine. She was miserable. Winter couldn’t have ended soon enough for her.
Spring was the season she wanted. With its warmer air and blooming flowers, with its promises of thunderstorms and ending tours. She wanted it more than anything and finally, after two months of waiting, it finally arrived. He still had a month on the road and it was killing her more and more every day. Because, as luck would have it, things were seemingly getting more difficult with every passing day. Or hour. Or minute.
His calls stopped becoming daily about three weeks in. And when she called him, the conversation was one sided and very brief. He blamed it on his schedule. He was too busy, too nervous, and got too little sleep to hold a good conversation. She believed him. She believed him when he told her he missed her. She believed him when he told her he wanted to come home. She believed him when he told her he was too tired to listen to her. But, she also believed him when he told her he’d never been happier.
Soon, the phone calls stopped altogether. And when she called him, he didn’t answer. She tried every day for a month. And every day for a month, she got his voicemail. He had thirty voicemails to check. And all of them said the same thing. All of them said she missed him, she wanted him to come home, and she loved him. None of them held any negative thought, but none of them held any emotion either. She’d been speaking in the same tone since he left. Simply put, she was crushed.
Two weeks before he was due home, she found herself lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was wrapped up in one of his hoodies, playing with the heart that hung from the silver chain around her neck. He’d given it to her for her birthday the year before. He’d told her he loved her, kissed her, and helped her put it on. She’d worn it every day since she’d received it. It meant so much to her. Just like he meant so much to her. She liked to think she meant as much to him.
Biting her lip in an attempt to keep the tears from falling, she allowed herself to reach for the phone on the dresser beside her bed. She hadn’t called him in almost a week. She’d tried to, but it killed her to think that he wouldn’t answer. But this time would be different, she thought. Before dialing the seven numbers she knew by heart, she pressed the star, the six, and the seven. Maybe if she blocked her number, he’d answer. Then at least she could hear his voice, whether he hung up when he found out it was her or not.
She barely heard his “Hello?” on the other end of the line due to the beating of her own heart. Her hands were cold, but her palms were sweaty. Her stomach was in her throat and her eyes were squeezed shut, small tears leaking out of the corners. “Hello?” he repeated, unsure there was anyone on the other end.
“Hey…” she said, her voice soft and shaky.
“Who is this?” he asked, confusion in his voice. She could picture the way he looked right then, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed together.
“It’s me,” she replied, trying not to choke on her words and finding it difficult since they appeared to be getting stuck in her throat.
“Who?” he asked, again. Maybe the reception was choppy, she told herself. Maybe he couldn’t hear her clearly. Maybe there was too much noise in the background. But… she heard no commotion whatsoever behind him. There was no static in the call. And their phones had always connected without a problem.
“Me,” she tried, again, her voice cracking as hot tears poured down her flushed cheeks. Her hand was in her hair, pulling it slightly as she tried to keep some kind of composure.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded to know, his tone irritated and his voice loud.
Heart broken, she ended the call and flung her phone onto the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest and clutching the pillow beneath her as it became soaked with her own tears. He’d forgotten her voice. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she finally accepted that he’d forgotten her, too.
The final few weeks went by terribly slow. Every day was the same. Every day was miserable and never ending. Every day was spent alone. Alone in her bedroom, music on, wrapped up in blankets. She drug herself out of bed every morning, barely made it through school, and then came home and moped around the house. Her friends told her to forget him. “If he could forget you, then you can forget him,” they said. And even though they were trying to help, they only made her feel worse. She didn’t need to hear about how bad a person he was. She didn’t want to hear about how she could do better and how he didn’t deserve her. She knew it was the truth, but she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Not even herself.
The day finally came when he was due home. For once in what seemed like the longest time, she put effort into what she looked like. She did her hair, wore nice clothes, and even applied makeup for the big day. But she didn’t leave her house. This was the day that determined it all. She’d made a deal with herself. If he showed up, or even if he called to tell her he was home, he was still a part of her life. If she didn’t hear from him, then she wanted out. It was that simple.
Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days as she waited in the same spot on her bed, legs crossed, eyes straight ahead. Not once did she move. Not once did she speak. She simply sat. And thought. Even though she looked calm on the outside, she was a wreck inside. There were so many ‘what if’s running through her mind. What if he does show up? What if he doesn’t? What if he calls? What if he wants to get together? What if he wants to break up? What if -
She was jolted out of her worries when she heard her doorknob click. Her eyes focused in on it as it turned slower than she ever thought imaginable. Her future was behind that door. Her heart was behind that door. Her heart had never been so loud, her stomach had never been so upset, her palms had never been so clammy, she’d never been so cold, and it’d never been so hard to breathe. At the same time she wished the door would just fly open, she wished it never would be opened at all. She wasn’t ready to see him. She didn’t know what she was going to say or do. She was afraid of what he’d say. She was afraid that all her preparation would be for nothing because she knew the moment she saw him, she’d be weak.
Her heart sank when the door finally opened, revealing her mother. “Make sure you keep looking for a parking spot for your father,” she told her, walking across the room and peering out the window at the street in front of the house. “The Smiths are too far on our side of the driveway so your father’s car won’t be able to squeeze through. And you know that if we go over there and ask them to move their cars, no matter how politely we ask, all we’ll get is a bunch of whining and do we really want to deal with that?” her mother rambled on and on, fixing the curtains on the windows as she glanced down the street.
It didn’t matter what her mother was saying, though; she wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart had stopped the minute she noticed something move in her doorway after her mother had come in. He was standing there when her eyes finally found him. Standing there, staring at his feet, his hands shoved into his pockets, his head down in what looked like shame. But was it shame? She wanted it to be. She liked to think it was…
“Hey,” he said softly once he’d lifted his eyes to meet the scared ones staring back at him.
“I’m leaving,” her mother announced when she noticed they had company. She patted his shoulder on the way out and smiled at him. “Good to have you home in one piece,” she told him, oblivious to what had been going on in her daughter’s life the past three months.
Once the door was shut, he made his way over to her bed and sat at the end of it. Immediately, his hands went through his hair. She knew what that meant. He only did that when he had something he wanted to say. Something important. Something difficult to get out. Though there was an overwhelming amount of hope still in her, she prepared herself for the worst as he opened his mouth to speak.
“I… am so sorry,” he started, turning and looking at her, guilt instantly running through him when he saw the tears already forming in her puffy, red eyes. “I’m seriously so sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand, the corner of his lip turning up when she allowed him to take it. “I couldn’t do it the way you wanted me to,” he told her. “I couldn’t live on phone calls alone. I couldn’t keep dialing your number and I couldn’t keep hearing your voice, knowing I couldn’t see you when I spoke to you. It was too hard. I know I should’ve handled it differently, but I couldn’t come up with an easier way,” he said, moving closer to her.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t know why he was holding her hand. She didn’t know why his lips were on hers. She didn’t know why he wanted her now. She didn’t know why she was letting him win. She didn’t know why she was forgiving him. There was one thing she did know, though. She knew he wasn’t sorry, but… she liked to think he was.
I duno my grade yet, but I'm hoping it'll be pretty high.
Title: Forget Me, It’s That Simple
Date: 03-22-05
Genre: class assignment, creative writing
Summary: She loved him… and she liked to think he loved her, too.
Forget Me, It's That Simple
She smiled to herself as she watched him work the small, cramped area energetically from backstage. Back and forth he went, jumping, turning, twisting, falling to his knees, springing back up, all the while never missing a note or beat. His voice was perfect, as were the chords he was playing. The song being played ended abruptly, as planned, and the lights dimmed. She knew there was one song left. She knew what song it was. She knew the words, she knew the melody. She knew every song the band had ever attempted to play just as well as she knew the lead vocalist/guitar player.
Again, she fought a smile as the lights came on and she caught him glance her way. One wink from him made her heart skip a beat. He was hers, just like she was his. She loved everything about him from his piercing blue eyes to the wacky way he tied his shoes. She liked to think she knew everything about him, and him about her. She liked to think there were no secrets between the two of them. She liked to think he was her future.
She sighed and leaned her body against the wall to her left as they reached the bridge of the song. When she listened to music, she liked to think. She liked to close her eyes and think. But she’d never once closed her eyes when he was on stage. She watched him intently through every performance. And she grinned through a good percent of every show. She couldn’t help herself. She was so proud of him. He was doing what he loved. And he was happy with it. Sure, they only played a few shows a month at a local underground club and sure, they didn’t have the biggest following, but that didn’t seem to matter to him. She knew he’d like to make it big someday, but it wasn’t the most important thing in the world. There were things that meant more to him than his band, his music. She liked to think she was one of those things.
The song ended with a few extra, powerful drum beats and the small crowd of teens in front of the band erupted in applause and cheers. There may not have been a significantly huge amount of people attending their shows, but the ones that did show up were more than enough. One final thank you and the four guys began gathering their equipment and unplugging their instruments and amps. The lights were all on and the air was filled with smoke from the kids in the crowd’s bad habits. She pushed her long dirty blonde hair behind her ears and sauntered onto the stage, aware that the floor was now clearing out and the only people left in the building in five minutes would be the people who played and the people who ran the club.
Carefully, she stepped over the bass guitar on the stage in front of her and headed towards him. He was down on the floor, his back to her, shaking hands with a guy in jeans and a black hoodie. He may have had the look of any stereotypical band member, but she had a feeling he was supposed to be important. This wasn’t just a fan wanting to meet the band. Sensing the conversation he was having wasn’t something she needed to participate in, she took a seat on the edge of the stage and pulled her hands into the arms of her own hoodie. Now that the small room was empty, a cool draft was able to make its way inside. It may have been comforting to the guys who had been overheated under the bright lights a few minutes ago, but it sent a slight shiver through her.
She looked down at her shoes as she swung her legs back and forth, trying to be patient. She hated waiting, but she always dealt with it. Luckily, she didn’t have to wait long. She felt strong, warm arms suddenly embrace her and as she drew her breath in, she immediately recognized the smell of his cologne. Quickly, he pulled away, put a hand on either side of her, and grinned.
“Guess what,” he said, his excitement blatant.
“What?” she asked, fighting a smile. She never guessed. She hated guessing. Because she hated the risk of being wrong.
“We’re getting signed!” he exclaimed, shaking her as he spoke. Immediately, her jaw dropped. Was he serious?
“Are you serious?” she managed to get out as she stared directly into his eyes, which were big and held more happiness than she thought possible. He nodded vigorously in response to her question and was met by a shriek. “You’re getting signed!” she shouted before flinging herself on him. She kissed him hard before a familiar voice behind them questioned their celebration.
The good news spread rapidly to not only the other three band members, but to the men that ran the club, as well. And as if they were high school girls, they ran and told anyone who was still hanging around in the parking lot outside. Kids began to flock back into the small room and congratulations were immediately shared all around.
In the midst of the commotion, she held tightly to his hand. She was so proud of them, so proud of him. This didn’t mean they were definitely going to make it, but it was better than nothing. It was a start to something. What that something was, she didn’t quite know, but she liked to think it was something special. Something different. Something amazing.
As more fans moved into the room to talk to the band, she felt his grip on her hand loosen and before she knew it, she’d completely lost him to the overwhelmingly pushy crowd around her. It hadn’t seemed like there were this many people in attendance when she’d watched from the side of the stage. Brow furrowed, she excused her way through the darkly dressed teens until she was at the stage. She hoisted herself onto the edge again and crossed her legs at the ankles while she pulled her hoodie close to her. From her spot, she could barely see him. He was being swarmed, and by the look on his face, she could tell he was enjoying every minute of it.
“They’re gonna make it,” a voice said beside her. The person belonging to it stepped out of his position in the shadows and sat down next to her. “I can already tell… they’ll do pretty well for themselves,” the guy in the black hoodie said with a nod in the direction toward the chattering crowd.
Sighing, she looked down at her arms, which were crossed across her chest. She wanted to be happy for them. But for some reason, she had the feeling this wasn’t going to be as great as she thought it would.
The next few months seemed to fly by at lightning speed. The band was signed and immediately rushed into the studio where they wrote and produced a record on a small label. With the announcement that the CD was completed came the announcement that they were leaving for a three month, east coast, promotional tour. The band couldn’t be more ecstatic. And she couldn’t be more scared.
“I’m gonna be a rock star,” he grinned as he threw himself onto the couch in her living room a week before he was due to leave. He laid back and propped his head up on a blue corduroy pillow as he watched her shove her hands in the pocket of her hoodie and smile. “I can’t wait to play that first show. To greet a different city. To meet new kids. God, I hope they like us,” he thought aloud. He turned his head to her and asked, “Do you think they’ll like us?”
She sighed. “Of course they will,” she assured him. She knew they would. How could anyone not? They had talent like no other, their lyrics were mature, but simple enough to understand what they were trying to say. They weren’t like other bands. They were original. They were themselves. And if they didn’t like the music, they sure as hell were going to like the guys that played it. Not only were all four of the guys attractive, but they were the most down to earth people that ever existed.
“Promise?” he asked, patting the spot beside him on the couch when he caught her eye, which had been drifting around the room, looking at everything except for him.
“Promise,” she said, quietly, making her way across the living room and sitting down in the designated spot. He pulled her down next to him and she buried her face in his shirt, immediately finding comfort in the arms that held her close. She was going to miss him. And she liked to think he’d miss her, as well. They’d never been apart the whole year or so they’d been together. This was going to be more than difficult for her, and hopefully for him, too.
“You alright?” he asked her, running his fingers through her soft hair. She pulled away from him slightly and examined his face. She was going to miss that beautiful face. And that dark hair. Those blue eyes. That perfect nose. That gorgeous smile. How was she going to make it through the next few months?
“You’re gonna call me all the time, right?” she asked him, cuddling close to him, wanting to stay where she was forever. This was all she needed. He was all she needed. And she liked to think he felt the same.
“Mhm,” he responded, letting her lace his fingers with his own.
“I love you,” she whispered lightly into his chest. When she didn’t get a reply back, she tried to ignore the twinge of fear that went through her. Maybe he hadn’t heard her, she told herself. Either way, she let it go and closed her eyes, trying to focus on what she had. She needed to embrace it now more than ever because in a week, he wouldn’t be there.
The end of winter was bitter for her, outside and inside. She spent it cold and alone, not enjoying the snow and enjoying the downtime she had even less. She hated not having someone to meet with to ruin the fresh snow in the middle of the night. She hated not having someone to hold her and warm her up while she waited to get into the club. She hated not having a Valentine. She was miserable. Winter couldn’t have ended soon enough for her.
Spring was the season she wanted. With its warmer air and blooming flowers, with its promises of thunderstorms and ending tours. She wanted it more than anything and finally, after two months of waiting, it finally arrived. He still had a month on the road and it was killing her more and more every day. Because, as luck would have it, things were seemingly getting more difficult with every passing day. Or hour. Or minute.
His calls stopped becoming daily about three weeks in. And when she called him, the conversation was one sided and very brief. He blamed it on his schedule. He was too busy, too nervous, and got too little sleep to hold a good conversation. She believed him. She believed him when he told her he missed her. She believed him when he told her he wanted to come home. She believed him when he told her he was too tired to listen to her. But, she also believed him when he told her he’d never been happier.
Soon, the phone calls stopped altogether. And when she called him, he didn’t answer. She tried every day for a month. And every day for a month, she got his voicemail. He had thirty voicemails to check. And all of them said the same thing. All of them said she missed him, she wanted him to come home, and she loved him. None of them held any negative thought, but none of them held any emotion either. She’d been speaking in the same tone since he left. Simply put, she was crushed.
Two weeks before he was due home, she found herself lying in her bed, staring at the ceiling. She was wrapped up in one of his hoodies, playing with the heart that hung from the silver chain around her neck. He’d given it to her for her birthday the year before. He’d told her he loved her, kissed her, and helped her put it on. She’d worn it every day since she’d received it. It meant so much to her. Just like he meant so much to her. She liked to think she meant as much to him.
Biting her lip in an attempt to keep the tears from falling, she allowed herself to reach for the phone on the dresser beside her bed. She hadn’t called him in almost a week. She’d tried to, but it killed her to think that he wouldn’t answer. But this time would be different, she thought. Before dialing the seven numbers she knew by heart, she pressed the star, the six, and the seven. Maybe if she blocked her number, he’d answer. Then at least she could hear his voice, whether he hung up when he found out it was her or not.
She barely heard his “Hello?” on the other end of the line due to the beating of her own heart. Her hands were cold, but her palms were sweaty. Her stomach was in her throat and her eyes were squeezed shut, small tears leaking out of the corners. “Hello?” he repeated, unsure there was anyone on the other end.
“Hey…” she said, her voice soft and shaky.
“Who is this?” he asked, confusion in his voice. She could picture the way he looked right then, his brow furrowed and his lips pursed together.
“It’s me,” she replied, trying not to choke on her words and finding it difficult since they appeared to be getting stuck in her throat.
“Who?” he asked, again. Maybe the reception was choppy, she told herself. Maybe he couldn’t hear her clearly. Maybe there was too much noise in the background. But… she heard no commotion whatsoever behind him. There was no static in the call. And their phones had always connected without a problem.
“Me,” she tried, again, her voice cracking as hot tears poured down her flushed cheeks. Her hand was in her hair, pulling it slightly as she tried to keep some kind of composure.
“Who the hell is this?” he demanded to know, his tone irritated and his voice loud.
Heart broken, she ended the call and flung her phone onto the floor. She squeezed her eyes shut as tightly as she could and rolled onto her side, pulling her knees up to her chest and clutching the pillow beneath her as it became soaked with her own tears. He’d forgotten her voice. And as much as it pained her to admit it, she finally accepted that he’d forgotten her, too.
The final few weeks went by terribly slow. Every day was the same. Every day was miserable and never ending. Every day was spent alone. Alone in her bedroom, music on, wrapped up in blankets. She drug herself out of bed every morning, barely made it through school, and then came home and moped around the house. Her friends told her to forget him. “If he could forget you, then you can forget him,” they said. And even though they were trying to help, they only made her feel worse. She didn’t need to hear about how bad a person he was. She didn’t want to hear about how she could do better and how he didn’t deserve her. She knew it was the truth, but she wouldn’t admit it to anyone. Not even herself.
The day finally came when he was due home. For once in what seemed like the longest time, she put effort into what she looked like. She did her hair, wore nice clothes, and even applied makeup for the big day. But she didn’t leave her house. This was the day that determined it all. She’d made a deal with herself. If he showed up, or even if he called to tell her he was home, he was still a part of her life. If she didn’t hear from him, then she wanted out. It was that simple.
Minutes felt like hours and hours felt like days as she waited in the same spot on her bed, legs crossed, eyes straight ahead. Not once did she move. Not once did she speak. She simply sat. And thought. Even though she looked calm on the outside, she was a wreck inside. There were so many ‘what if’s running through her mind. What if he does show up? What if he doesn’t? What if he calls? What if he wants to get together? What if he wants to break up? What if -
She was jolted out of her worries when she heard her doorknob click. Her eyes focused in on it as it turned slower than she ever thought imaginable. Her future was behind that door. Her heart was behind that door. Her heart had never been so loud, her stomach had never been so upset, her palms had never been so clammy, she’d never been so cold, and it’d never been so hard to breathe. At the same time she wished the door would just fly open, she wished it never would be opened at all. She wasn’t ready to see him. She didn’t know what she was going to say or do. She was afraid of what he’d say. She was afraid that all her preparation would be for nothing because she knew the moment she saw him, she’d be weak.
Her heart sank when the door finally opened, revealing her mother. “Make sure you keep looking for a parking spot for your father,” she told her, walking across the room and peering out the window at the street in front of the house. “The Smiths are too far on our side of the driveway so your father’s car won’t be able to squeeze through. And you know that if we go over there and ask them to move their cars, no matter how politely we ask, all we’ll get is a bunch of whining and do we really want to deal with that?” her mother rambled on and on, fixing the curtains on the windows as she glanced down the street.
It didn’t matter what her mother was saying, though; she wasn’t listening anymore. Her heart had stopped the minute she noticed something move in her doorway after her mother had come in. He was standing there when her eyes finally found him. Standing there, staring at his feet, his hands shoved into his pockets, his head down in what looked like shame. But was it shame? She wanted it to be. She liked to think it was…
“Hey,” he said softly once he’d lifted his eyes to meet the scared ones staring back at him.
“I’m leaving,” her mother announced when she noticed they had company. She patted his shoulder on the way out and smiled at him. “Good to have you home in one piece,” she told him, oblivious to what had been going on in her daughter’s life the past three months.
Once the door was shut, he made his way over to her bed and sat at the end of it. Immediately, his hands went through his hair. She knew what that meant. He only did that when he had something he wanted to say. Something important. Something difficult to get out. Though there was an overwhelming amount of hope still in her, she prepared herself for the worst as he opened his mouth to speak.
“I… am so sorry,” he started, turning and looking at her, guilt instantly running through him when he saw the tears already forming in her puffy, red eyes. “I’m seriously so sorry,” he said, reaching for her hand, the corner of his lip turning up when she allowed him to take it. “I couldn’t do it the way you wanted me to,” he told her. “I couldn’t live on phone calls alone. I couldn’t keep dialing your number and I couldn’t keep hearing your voice, knowing I couldn’t see you when I spoke to you. It was too hard. I know I should’ve handled it differently, but I couldn’t come up with an easier way,” he said, moving closer to her.
She didn’t know what to say. She didn’t know what to do. She didn’t know anything. She didn’t know why he was holding her hand. She didn’t know why his lips were on hers. She didn’t know why he wanted her now. She didn’t know why she was letting him win. She didn’t know why she was forgiving him. There was one thing she did know, though. She knew he wasn’t sorry, but… she liked to think he was.
I duno my grade yet, but I'm hoping it'll be pretty high.