soon. I doubted there was
anything that I could have done to deserve this pain.
Shakily, I rose from the mattress and went
into the bathroom. My reflection was hideous. My eyes were swollen
and rimmed with red, dark circles underneath. My hair stood
straight up in random tufts. I wondered what Matthew had seen when
he said I was beautiful. I hoped it wasn’t this.
I decided to take a shower in hopes that it
would make me feel better. I turned on the water, adjusting the
temperature until it was nearly scalding hot. The droplets stung my
skin when I first stepped in, but my body quickly adjusted to the
heat. I imagined my pain and worries washing down the drain along
with all the suds, wishing it was truly that easy.
When I was finished, I dried off and went in
search of another stylish ensemble to wear for my pity party.
Again, I settled on sweats, but this time with a tight fitting
t-shirt on top. As I slid on my selections, I noticed that the red
dress was missing from the floor. On a hunch, I went to my closet.
Sure enough, the offending article hung neatly in front, staring
innocently back at me. The platform shoes that matched were
displayed directly underneath.
Fresh tears threatened to spill down my
cheeks. The last time this dress hung here, I had gazed up at it
with anticipation. Now it was a reminder of an evening gone
horribly wrong. I brushed my fingers across the full skirt. Too bad
Blake and I weren’t the same size. Even though it was beautiful, I
doubted I could stomach wearing it now. I thought of Matthew,
carefully lifting it off the floor and putting it in its proper
place. Trying his hardest to clean up my mess.
With a sigh, I grabbed my cell off the
nightstand and powered it on. No time like the present to face
reality. Once it loaded to the home screen, I learned that it was
now ten in the morning. This shocked me. No wonder my head hurt; it
had been nearly twenty-four hours since I had eaten that apple. So
much for gorging at the restaurant.
Not as surprising was the fact that my phone
now contained a barrage of voice mails and texts from Eric. In our
ten years together, I couldn’t remember ever hanging up on him
before. I had either convinced him that I was really pissed, or I
had made him very mad. Perhaps a little of both.
I decided to listen to the voice mails first.
Eric did sound angry in the first couple, proclaiming that his
career was important and that these were crucial accounts he was
flying out to settle. He told me that unpredictability was part of
the job and that I should understand that by now. He admonished me
for playing the career card to go out and follow my dreams but to
not give him the same respect.
Just as I was about to delete the remaining
messages without listening, the fourth or fifth startled me with
his change in tone. This series sounded sincere, almost remorseful.
The anger had subsided, and he spoke quietly, solemnly. He
apologized and swore he would make it up to me. I imagined I should
be expecting another huge bouquet of flowers shortly.
The string of texts were all sent after the
voice mails, begging me to talk to him. Asking for my forgiveness.
Never telling me he loved me. I deleted all of them.
My indicator light still blinked even after I
cleared all of Eric’s many messages. It was then I noticed that
Matthew had also texted me. At three thirty-eight this morning.
Goodnight, sweetheart.
My breath hitched. I stood frozen in place
staring at the display. My hand trembled, nearly causing me to drop
the phone. I lowered myself to the mattress, head spinning.
I assumed the text had come through shortly
after he had left the house. For all intents and purposes, he had
spent the night here. Instead of slipping out unnoticed, he had
made sure I knew he had gone home. As if he was showing me that not
everyone in my life would abandon me. Again with the terms of
endearment that made my pulse quicken.
My growling stomach brought me back to
reality. I
anything that I could have done to deserve this pain.
Shakily, I rose from the mattress and went
into the bathroom. My reflection was hideous. My eyes were swollen
and rimmed with red, dark circles underneath. My hair stood
straight up in random tufts. I wondered what Matthew had seen when
he said I was beautiful. I hoped it wasn’t this.
I decided to take a shower in hopes that it
would make me feel better. I turned on the water, adjusting the
temperature until it was nearly scalding hot. The droplets stung my
skin when I first stepped in, but my body quickly adjusted to the
heat. I imagined my pain and worries washing down the drain along
with all the suds, wishing it was truly that easy.
When I was finished, I dried off and went in
search of another stylish ensemble to wear for my pity party.
Again, I settled on sweats, but this time with a tight fitting
t-shirt on top. As I slid on my selections, I noticed that the red
dress was missing from the floor. On a hunch, I went to my closet.
Sure enough, the offending article hung neatly in front, staring
innocently back at me. The platform shoes that matched were
displayed directly underneath.
Fresh tears threatened to spill down my
cheeks. The last time this dress hung here, I had gazed up at it
with anticipation. Now it was a reminder of an evening gone
horribly wrong. I brushed my fingers across the full skirt. Too bad
Blake and I weren’t the same size. Even though it was beautiful, I
doubted I could stomach wearing it now. I thought of Matthew,
carefully lifting it off the floor and putting it in its proper
place. Trying his hardest to clean up my mess.
With a sigh, I grabbed my cell off the
nightstand and powered it on. No time like the present to face
reality. Once it loaded to the home screen, I learned that it was
now ten in the morning. This shocked me. No wonder my head hurt; it
had been nearly twenty-four hours since I had eaten that apple. So
much for gorging at the restaurant.
Not as surprising was the fact that my phone
now contained a barrage of voice mails and texts from Eric. In our
ten years together, I couldn’t remember ever hanging up on him
before. I had either convinced him that I was really pissed, or I
had made him very mad. Perhaps a little of both.
I decided to listen to the voice mails first.
Eric did sound angry in the first couple, proclaiming that his
career was important and that these were crucial accounts he was
flying out to settle. He told me that unpredictability was part of
the job and that I should understand that by now. He admonished me
for playing the career card to go out and follow my dreams but to
not give him the same respect.
Just as I was about to delete the remaining
messages without listening, the fourth or fifth startled me with
his change in tone. This series sounded sincere, almost remorseful.
The anger had subsided, and he spoke quietly, solemnly. He
apologized and swore he would make it up to me. I imagined I should
be expecting another huge bouquet of flowers shortly.
The string of texts were all sent after the
voice mails, begging me to talk to him. Asking for my forgiveness.
Never telling me he loved me. I deleted all of them.
My indicator light still blinked even after I
cleared all of Eric’s many messages. It was then I noticed that
Matthew had also texted me. At three thirty-eight this morning.
Goodnight, sweetheart.
My breath hitched. I stood frozen in place
staring at the display. My hand trembled, nearly causing me to drop
the phone. I lowered myself to the mattress, head spinning.
I assumed the text had come through shortly
after he had left the house. For all intents and purposes, he had
spent the night here. Instead of slipping out unnoticed, he had
made sure I knew he had gone home. As if he was showing me that not
everyone in my life would abandon me. Again with the terms of
endearment that made my pulse quicken.
My growling stomach brought me back to
reality. I
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