Hopeless for her.
Hopeless for her then.
Hopeless for her now.”
By the timethe songs ends, I’m sobbing like a broken hearted child. We’re talking very ugly crying.
My fingers are trembling when I type a reply. I can barely see the screen through my tears.
It’s beautiful, Abe. I love it!
I want to addCome back!, but it’s not my place to ask that of him, to ask him to uproot his whole life for me,yet again.
Instead, I wait eagerly for his reply. I stow the groceries away, staring at my phone all the while, my ears on high alert. My heart sinks a little when he doesn’t reply. I tell myself that he’s probably in the middle of something.
I draw myself a bath to ease my nerves. I keep my phone on the edge of the tub. I sink into the warm water, and let myself drift into beautiful memories of the two of us; his lips on the swell of my breasts, his hands between my legs, my own sliding down his stomach, the other tangled in his soft hair.
I check my phone obsessively, worrying that I might have not heard the ping when my head was submerged. Every time I see no response, it stings.
Why hasn’t he replied? No goodbyes, noLater, buddy. Nothing.
I consider sending him a message, but I don’t want to be a pest. I think about the lyrics of his song. What was the point of it all? He was obviously trying to tell me something.
Am I expected to make the next move? I’m the one who pushed him away. Maybe he’s just waiting for me to stretch my arms out and welcome him back.
I try to get lost inMemoirs of a Geisha, my current read, but it’s to no avail. I can’t even focus on a single paragraph, let alone a full page or chapter. I abandon the book, turn off my bedside lamp and sulk.
I sulk until I drift off into slumber.
As soon as I wake,I check my phone again.
Nothing.
Who knew a single emotion could feel so heavy. That’s disappointment for you. I once read that we should never have expectations. If we don’t expect anything, we’ll never be let down. But I think it’s human nature to expect, to anticipate, to look forward to something with excitement.
I reluctantly get dressed and brush my teeth. I twist my hair up into a quick bun, and I don’t even bother with makeup. I grab a cold smoothie drink from my refrigerator, and pad over to the elevator, not excited in the least.
I run into Mr. Dark & Mysterious from the penthouse upstairs, and even that doesn’t excite me. I do, however, make a mental note to tell the girls. We love jabbering about Mr. Penthouse sightings. He’s with his kids again. They come and go… cute teens. I assume he’s divorced and gets occasional custody. They all smile at me, and I force a tight grin.
The parking garage is busy this morning, and people are already getting on my nerves. I absentmindedly drive to work, and when I get there, I trudge up to my office.
“Bad night?” Melanie asks.
I think about Abe’s song. “Kinda.”
The day doesn’t turn around. I’m moody and confused all day, wondering what I should do. I decide that the ball’s in my court. I need to make the next move. But what?
When I finally get home after a hard day’s work, I’m exhausted. My head aches and my limbs feel heavy. I turn the lock and eagerly push the door open.
I just want to sink into another bath, and not think about anything—
My breath hitches at the sight of about a dozen huge bouquets of beautiful tiger lilies. They’re everywhere, on the counter, on the kitchen table, on the console table. I stop and smell one of them.
I turn the corner, and there’s more. They’re everywhere in the living room.
And so is Abe.
He’s sitting comfortably on my sectional, his long legs stretched out on the coffee table. He wears an impish grin.
