She was standing in the mirror. The reflection staring back was hazed do to her heavy, uneven breathing. Her face was still visible through the fog, yet she immediately turned away with a look of disgust. Her face was covered in red splotches, her eyes were tear-filled and bloodshot, and the bags under those eyes were visible from fifty yards away. As she walked to the kitchen, she wiped her moist face and nose with her sleeve.
He stood in an empty room. The silence was not heard by him, but rather he felt as though the entire room was filled with people. He could not think. The game plan was to stay at his apartment when his roommate was away so that he could be alone to think. He decided to play some music as he lay on his bed with the growing pool of thoughts in his mind. Although his I-Tunes took a considerable amount of time to load, he fought through his frustration and watched the loading bar at the bottom of the screen until it reached 100%.
With a sniffle and a sigh she opened the refrigerator door. It had been a long three days without any sort of food in her system. On a routine day, food was the highlight for her. Nothing seemed remotely appetizing lately and she really did fight hard to make herself eat. It wasn’t one of those “poor me” fazes where she told everyone that she wasn’t eating because she wanted the sympathy and attention. It was the fact that the love of her life was with another girl that made everything she normally loved to do impossible. She began to sob at this thought. Nothing in her head was clear other than the picture she drew of her man with that other girl.
The music reminded him of his ex. The year and a half that they had spent together, the memories that they made and shared, and the troubles that they were going through at this moment were like a swirl of confusion. He corrected himself in his thoughts by remembering that there was no problem between them right now because there was no “them”. They had broken up, and he was with another girl now. He must not dwell on the past, and he must get over the girl from this past. After all, he thought, he went through a month and a half of pain and agony trying to get her back. He suffered and realized that there was no chance of him and his ex getting back together. He picked up the phone to dial his new friend Macey’s number.
So many questions ran through her head. Why had she broken up with him? Why had she been confused with her feelings? Why did the thought of him with another girl create a painful, unbearable hole deep in the pit of her stomach? It wasn’t fair, but maybe it was. It wasn’t too long ago that she thought being single was for the best. She put him through pain when she would not take him back, and now she was in pain. And to top it all off, he had no idea about the kaleidoscope of feelings that she was experiencing. Maybe if he was to see her suffering, he would come back and it would not be too late. But how could he see? He lived 53 minutes away. The refrigerator came back into focus. It’s funny how you can turn the milk warm by getting so lost in thought while you keep the fridge open.
He had known this new girl for about a month. A friend had introduced them, and they had seen quite a bit of each other since then. She was pretty much the exact foil of his old girlfriend, but he told himself that that could be a good thing. He found himself way too often comparing the two girls. Some qualities and characteristics were so silly, but yet important to him as a person. Why did he always have to bring his feelings back to his past? Why couldn’t he move on and see this girl for who she really was and not for who she compared to?
Ice cream is always used to cheer a girl up in the movies, but no ice cream was ever found in her house hold. The only remnants in her freezer were some TV dinners, frozen chicken wings, and a box of popsicles. As the wrapper descended to the bottom of the garbage can, the cherry popsicle was brought to her lips. Immediately the memory of kissing him in the rain on that late November night comes upon her unwillingly. Oh how that popsicle was like that kiss. Startling at first, but amazing at the same time. When you know you are approaching the end, and you don’t want it to be over. You just want another popsicle and another and another. As the room again came back into view, she was now ironically facing the telephone. She looked down at her own cell phone to see that she had zero missed calls. This was starting to become a recurring event in her life. She often found herself reminiscing on the times when there would always be a voice mail on her phone waiting for her to listen to.
He had lately found himself checking the cell phone for an update on his missed calls. “Macey’s Cell” seemed to be the most often bold print found on the small screen of his cell phone. Why then did his stomach lurch every time this event occurred? He knew why. He knew he was waiting for another call. He also knew that this call was never going to come, so this is when he got upset with himself for thinking of his past again. With this thought, he looked down at his new Altell phone.
She opened her cell phone again, and then pressed “Names”. She Typed a T, and scrolled to find his name. There it was. So long it had been since his name was in her recent call list. Although she knew that missing something as silly as this was weird, she couldn’t help but remember how many times she used to call him on a regular basis. Although she knew she might regret this in the future, and after a look around the room, she pressed the call button. The phone began ringing and a nauseated feeling sprung upon her. The ring then became a distant buzz as a vision of him answering while with his new girlfriend sat beside him appeared. She then hung up the phone violently and threw it across the room. The familiar feeling of tears rolling down her cheek occurred, but she knew what must be done to end her pain, to end her agony. She went to retrieve her phone that now had a matching stain of dried mascara on the screen. She decided to type the numbers in this time, knowing it will prolong her time between now and when she spoke to him. The ringing begins again but this time is interrupted by a familiar voice.
His heart begins to race as he finally sees her name on the small window of his phone. He answers hello casually, regretting this after he speaks.
She holds her breath, unable to respond.
Is she there he wonders or is he imagining it?
“Hel-Hello,” she finally replies. The air returns to her lungs and to her amazement she feels calm. She knows what she must do, and for once in the past 2 months, she feels confident.
He can’t take it anymore, he knew what he wanted. Trying to forget was not working, and he could only hope that she has called to tell him what he wants to hear.