“I’ll be there by six. I promise.”
“Okay,” she said a little too calmly. Her voice sounded empty and hollow. Another shiver ran through me. I felt like she didn’t believe me.
Then she turned and walked away.
When I turned to walk back to my office, Ms. Lila was staring at me, her mouth agape. I didn’t feel like explaining the situation to her even though I thought I should say something. I’m sure the entire exchange, and Ella’s appearance, looked odd.
“That’s my girlfriend,” I muttered as I passed by the office assistant.
“I gathered that,” she replied. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure.” I truly wasn’t.
It was even more difficult to concentrate when I went back to my office. I wondered how much of Ella’s insecurity was due to her mental illness and how much could be attributed to her past relationships. Maybe it didn’t even matter. They seemed to be interconnected.
As soon as the clock hit 5 p.m., I dashed out of the office and practically ran to my car. The ominous feeling I had when Ella left hadn’t subsided; if anything, it had gotten worse. I’m norma lly an extremely careful and safe driver, always obeying the rules of the road. But this time, I didn’t care. I sped to Ella’s house and made it in record time. It was twenty minutes to six by the time I knocked on her front door.
My heart sank when there was no answer. Soon my knocks turned into desperate pounding when the door still didn’t open.
“Ella,” I nearly screamed. “Where are you?”
As I continued my frantic pounding, it occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t there. Maybe she had left. But where would she go? The only place I could think of was the art studio.
I tried to consider all the reasons for her odd behavior. I knew some of it could probably be attributed to bipolar disorder but I also felt like there was something else going on. I tried to put myself in her shoes and look at things from her perspective. From the little she had told me and what I could deduce, she hadn’t had many positive experiences with men. If all of the guys, or even some of them, had treated her the way Steel treated her, she probably didn’t feel good about relationships and her place in them. She had every reason to believe I would be just like all the other guys, even though I told her I wasn’t. I’m sure other guys had told her the same thing and they probably ended up being lies or half-truths.
Or maybe it was more difficult to be with someone with b ipolar disorder than I realized and the other guys eventually gave up. Maybe they didn’t feel Ella was worth the hassle. As Steel said: that chick is high maintenance . Maybe he wasn’t the only guy who felt that way.
But I had no intentions of giving up on Ella. I had already made the decision that I was in this thing no matter what. Isn’t that what love truly is? To accept a person completely, both the good and the bad. I felt like there was something much deeper drawing us together. Like we were supposed to be learning important life lessons from each other.
If I was more of a touchy-feely type rather than a logical e ngineer, I’d say it was our destiny to be together but it sounded completely ridiculous as the words crossed my mind. Who believes in destiny? I’ve always been a firm believer in cause and effect. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
There was no place for destiny in science and reason—was there?
I decided to head over to Arts² to see if I could find Ella.
The place was surprisingly quiet when I entered. It was also devoid of the wood and glue smells I had become accustomed to. I breathed a sigh of relief as I passed by the metal working studio and found it empty—Steel and his scary band of misfits were nowhere to be seen.
As I headed toward the painting studio, I noticed the faint sound of a woman’s voice. Ella was singing Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol as she worked on her latest painting. I wasn’t sure she
“Okay,” she said a little too calmly. Her voice sounded empty and hollow. Another shiver ran through me. I felt like she didn’t believe me.
Then she turned and walked away.
When I turned to walk back to my office, Ms. Lila was staring at me, her mouth agape. I didn’t feel like explaining the situation to her even though I thought I should say something. I’m sure the entire exchange, and Ella’s appearance, looked odd.
“That’s my girlfriend,” I muttered as I passed by the office assistant.
“I gathered that,” she replied. “Is she okay?”
“I’m not sure.” I truly wasn’t.
It was even more difficult to concentrate when I went back to my office. I wondered how much of Ella’s insecurity was due to her mental illness and how much could be attributed to her past relationships. Maybe it didn’t even matter. They seemed to be interconnected.
As soon as the clock hit 5 p.m., I dashed out of the office and practically ran to my car. The ominous feeling I had when Ella left hadn’t subsided; if anything, it had gotten worse. I’m norma lly an extremely careful and safe driver, always obeying the rules of the road. But this time, I didn’t care. I sped to Ella’s house and made it in record time. It was twenty minutes to six by the time I knocked on her front door.
My heart sank when there was no answer. Soon my knocks turned into desperate pounding when the door still didn’t open.
“Ella,” I nearly screamed. “Where are you?”
As I continued my frantic pounding, it occurred to me that maybe she wasn’t there. Maybe she had left. But where would she go? The only place I could think of was the art studio.
I tried to consider all the reasons for her odd behavior. I knew some of it could probably be attributed to bipolar disorder but I also felt like there was something else going on. I tried to put myself in her shoes and look at things from her perspective. From the little she had told me and what I could deduce, she hadn’t had many positive experiences with men. If all of the guys, or even some of them, had treated her the way Steel treated her, she probably didn’t feel good about relationships and her place in them. She had every reason to believe I would be just like all the other guys, even though I told her I wasn’t. I’m sure other guys had told her the same thing and they probably ended up being lies or half-truths.
Or maybe it was more difficult to be with someone with b ipolar disorder than I realized and the other guys eventually gave up. Maybe they didn’t feel Ella was worth the hassle. As Steel said: that chick is high maintenance . Maybe he wasn’t the only guy who felt that way.
But I had no intentions of giving up on Ella. I had already made the decision that I was in this thing no matter what. Isn’t that what love truly is? To accept a person completely, both the good and the bad. I felt like there was something much deeper drawing us together. Like we were supposed to be learning important life lessons from each other.
If I was more of a touchy-feely type rather than a logical e ngineer, I’d say it was our destiny to be together but it sounded completely ridiculous as the words crossed my mind. Who believes in destiny? I’ve always been a firm believer in cause and effect. Every action has an equal and opposite reaction.
There was no place for destiny in science and reason—was there?
I decided to head over to Arts² to see if I could find Ella.
The place was surprisingly quiet when I entered. It was also devoid of the wood and glue smells I had become accustomed to. I breathed a sigh of relief as I passed by the metal working studio and found it empty—Steel and his scary band of misfits were nowhere to be seen.
As I headed toward the painting studio, I noticed the faint sound of a woman’s voice. Ella was singing Chasing Cars by Snow Patrol as she worked on her latest painting. I wasn’t sure she
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