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No, I thought. I am being smart. The best thing to do is to keep being friends with her. Even though a small part of me felt like I wished that things could be different, I also felt like it was the smart thing to do to try to keep them the same.Chapter Three - NadiaI was starting to feel weird as we drove on. At first, I thought it was just the hurt of Josh’s refusal to talk about things, but then the odd sensation got worse. I was nauseous but starving, and nothing seemed to sound good to eat.
Maybe it was the burritos, I thought, as I downed the rest of my soda, hoping it would settle my stomach. It didn’t. It made it worse.
By the time the sun started to set, I was miserable. I felt like I could eat a feast, but still, nothing, in particular, sounded good. It was like my body didn’t know what to do. I was being twisted apart, and I didn’t know why.
My stomach growled so loudly that Joshua heard it.
“Maybe we should stop for something to eat,” he said, pulling into a dingy roadside diner in front of a motel.
I groaned, not wanting to eat more greasy diner food. But I was starving, and there was nowhere else nearby to eat, so I decided to give it a chance.
Once we got inside and seated in a corner booth, I ordered a chicken salad, hoping that that would be better than a greasy burger, but it wasn’t. For some reason, it tasted off to me. I pushed my plate aside, deciding that this just wasn’t the diner for me.
Josh feasted on fried chicken strips, not noticing that I was grossed out. He even pushed his basket of oily fries my way. The smell of potato was too much, so I pushed them back and had to glance out the window to help the roller-coaster in my stomach.
The booth seemed to sway slightly, giving me a headache, and the lights started to feel too bright. It was all irritating, but I wasn’t sure why. I had eaten at a lot of worse places than this before. Why it was bugging me now, I had no clue.
I closed my eyes, rubbed them, then pulled my phone out of my pocket, and stared at it. Hopefully, this would distract me. There were four missed calls from the last few hours. All from the same number — a number I didn’t want to see. As I erased the notifications from the call log, the phone started ringing.
“Ted’s calling again,” I said, rolling my eyes and sending the call to voicemail for what felt like the millionth time.
Ted was my ex. We had broken up a few weeks ago because I told him that I didn’t want a long-distance relationship. He was not okay with my decision and had sent me countless voicemails and texts saying that he loved me and wanted to work things out. I didn’t share his desire. I had been avoiding him since we talked a few nights before. However, I was starting to think that it might be a good idea to respond to him so that he stopped. I didn’t want to leave the country with things so unsettled.
My phone started ringing again.
“Ugh. I’m going to step outside and talk to him,” I explained, getting up from the table.
Joshua grabbed my arm and wouldn’t let go. “Don’t pick up the phone,” he ordered grimly.
I looked at him like he was insane and pulled my arm away from him. “Uh, okay, dad,” I snapped sarcastically, taking a few steps toward the door with my phone in hand. After Josh’s discussion avoidance in the car earlier, I was not in the mood for his advice.
“Ted is a jerk and never appreciated you,” Joshua called out, his words a jumbled mess.
Was he nervous? Scared? Either way, Josh was starting to really irritate me. Plus, the other patrons were beginning to stare. Ignoring the phone again, I went back to the booth and sat down on the puffy red bench, not wanting to give the restaurant a show.
For some reason, Joshua calling Ted a jerk really bothered me. I practically saw red. “You know, you aren’t exactly a saint, Joshua,” I said, my voice hushed. I punctuated my point by slamming my fingertip into the tabletop. “You don’t exactly treat the women that you date well, either.”
More than one of Joshua’s girlfriends had come to me for advice on how to keep his eyes on her. I couldn’t help. He was always in love and out of it faster than other people could blink. Any issues he had with my love life were hypocritical.
Glaring at me, he leaned forward in a rage. “How dare you?” he said, slamming a fist down on the table, almost knocking the plates over. “I do the best that I can!”
