Chapter Five
734 Words
Balcony doors open slightly with the screen closed, Autumn Yankee Candle and White Barn candles burning, string lights aglow around the edges of my room, me and my headboard illuminated by my laptop. Thespian Club ran late and then into a Drama-kid-centric party at Macen’s, which Sophia and are invited to of course. But Sophia’s parents were at some fancy dinner and the babysitter called sick and I honestly am having a hard time wrapping my head around the semi-decent exchange with Christopher. Though, more importantly, any thoughts that are logic-based seem to have fuzzy edges because how the f*****g Hell – why the f*****g Hell do I have a date with him tomorrow?
And think of the Devil….
Ello
Hey
So about tomorrow….
Lord, let him be having cold feet.
… yeah?
Does a dinner and a movie sound doable?
Which ones were you thinking?
If he gives me an example, I can totally shoot them down.
The Hate U Give followed by Luca’s?
A movie I haven’t seen and didn’t particularly want to see.
But I could write a commentary piece about it in the school newsletter.
Movie times?
There’s a showing at 5:30,
7:45,
9:15 if we want to do dinner before.
Luca’s is way too… romantic for dinner though.
Not really feeling Italian.
Maybe Amelia’s?
As you wish.
He must be desperate to quote my favorite movie of all time.
It makes my stomach unknot a little.
5:30 then Amelia’s
?
Sounds perfect.
I’ll pick you up.
Town car.
Not a question.
Of course.
Phone face down on my sider table I open the drawer with a shaking hand and dig around for my anti-anxiety meds. Shouldn’t that mean something? That he makes me so freaked I need medication? How is this possibly a good idea? A healthy idea? My best friends on the same frequency start blowing up the group chat.
Mayday: How’s it hangin’ my chickadees?
You guys are missing the best party.
So-So: Random show-tunes, costumes, and drinking?
I’m actually having some fun with Ry-guy
He thinks he can beat me in HP Trivial Pursuit.
M: Poor guy… won’t know what hit him.
Putting the little pill down, I smile at my phone.
Night was going well until Christopher texted
About, you know…
The whole DATE-thing
M: Dude he’s nervous AF
S: What he said.
All the girls were talking about it at practice.
What does he have to be nervous for?
And I don’t get that…
He asked me!
S: He’s a guy?
M: What she said.
For real though…
I guess he’s been mad crushing on you for a while now.
… really?
Chest anchored to my bed, everything around me gets wobbly.
Not exactly the room is spinning, but it’s definitely doing some sort of jig.
Verbally whining like I’m five, I sit up and type quickly:
I’m just so confused.
S: Sad confused?
M: Happy confused?
S: Mad confused?
I don’t know
I’m mad at him.
But I’ve been using my anger as a defense, I guess.
My therapist says it’s ‘easier to be mad than sad’
And I’ve spent so long just being mad.
And now I’m getting sad?
UGH
HELP
S: You and Macen could come over here?
M: Do you want me to come over?
The two texts were sent within the same minute.
It made me smile softly and ease back into my pillows.
Just come over tomorrow?
Mama said she’ll have your favorite ready for lunch.
There’s a pause and even though I’m afraid of the answer I ask:
Has my not-so-cut-and-dry
Emotional bull s**t
With Christopher been that obvious?
M: It’s a thin line between like/dislike
S: What he said.
How you are with him is different than…
Like, remember Joan Striteford?
M: No if’s and’s or but’s
Pure hate.
She deserved it, of course, but yeah…
This HAS been different.
I can’t type back right away… since I’m not really sure what to say.
I’m not really sure what to do.
I’m not really sure what I feel.
The fact is: Christopher left me alone. After years of being attached at the hip, he fed into my worst fear. I think maybe that’s why I latched on to Macen so hard. And why Macen felt the need to introduce me to Sophia. They are my everything.
It really is easier to be mad than sad….
- Writer
