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I missed her like no other. I called, left voice mails. I even walked by her dorm after I finished at work, hoping to see her. But Angie said she was with her mom. She really doesn’t want to see me.
Day Five:
I’m lost. Is she breaking up with me? I don’t know what to do. Stella and Emery force me to shower.
Day Six:
This is some bullshit. She better not be breaking up with me. I gotta do something.
That’s how the six, long, miserable, soul-searching, lonely days have gone without her.
I never realized how empty my life is without her. Each day that has passed without communication has been incomplete. I go to work, and the first thing I want to do is call her when I’m done. When it’s time for me to go to bed, I want her beside me. Or at least, telling me goodnight on the phone. The same when I wake up—I want to talk to her. Wish her a good morning. Shit, it’s not right how this went down. She has been in my life for over twenty years, and we’ve talked every day for the last ten. It’s crazy weird being ignored, and I know she’s blocked me, which hurts even more. To be honest, I have never before experienced the kind of pain I’m experiencing now that Ally won’t speak to me. I know I deserve it. I deserve it all. But six days? That’s rough.
Truth be told, my feelings are the least of my fears right now. All I’m scared of is how badly I’ve hurt her.
And if it’s fixable.
It has to be fixable.
I don’t know that I can rebound if it’s not.
When my phone rings, I see it’s Posey, so I decline it. I don’t want to speak to anyone but Ally. Everyone has called because my sisters have huge mouths and probably took out a billboard that I’m a hot mess. I know why they’re calling. To tell me I’m stupid, that I’ll lose the best thing in my life, and that if I don’t get my head out of my ass, I’ll never be happy. It’s like they think I don’t know these things. I do, completely. But that doesn’t change what I’ve already done.
I didn’t give Ally what she deserves.
My heart.
I close my eyes as I hold my head in my hands. From between my fingers, I see the shirt I’ve made for Ally. I went back and forth with myself if I would go to her game tonight. For one, I know she doesn’t want to see me. And out of respect, even though I don’t want to, I need to give her space. But also, I don’t want to mess her up, and seeing me could do that. The last thing I want to do is to screw with her favorite sport. Problem is, I promised I’d never miss a game now that I’m in Nashville. She also promised to always be my best friend, but she’s not answering the phone.
She took away everything. My best friend—and my future.
This whole situation has blown my mind, and it has also made me realize I can’t keep on in this present-but-not-present state I’m in. It’s not fair to her, and it’s sure as hell not fair to me. Not when I’ve got the heart of a great woman in my hands, while I hide my own heart in my back pocket. I’ve always had feelings for her; that’s not the problem. The problem is I won’t allow them to see the light of day because of the risk. Like she said when she poked the shit out of my chest, she’s worth the risk.
Too bad, I didn’t realize that until she pushed me out of her arms.
Something she has never done to me in my life. She’s my favorite person to hug—hell, she may be the only person I want to hug, because she doesn’t let go first. But my ass fucked u
p so bad, she pushed me away. I’m a real winner. I run my hands down my face as I lean back on the couch. It smells like Ally; damn near everything in this condo does. There are hair ties everywhere, and I’ve never cried over something as trivial as a toothbrush, but hers brought me to my knees in tears.
My phone sounds once more with a text. It’s Emery.
Emery: FYI, Mom, Harper, and Elli all know. So, beware. Also, Ally found out about the ring.
Fucking hell.
Me: Did you tell everyone everything?
Emery: No…and yes. Mom saw the ring, called her on it, and then I explained the situation.
Me: Wow. Thanks.
Emery: Anytime.
So now, Ally knows the truth. Knows I lied to her. And yeah, this is going swimmingly. Not. I go to drop my phone, but then another text comes through, this time from Posey.
Posey: Since you’re being a crybaby and not answering my call, I figured I’d send you a little text and remind you of those stupid cans with that string. That’s all. Good luck. And don’t fuck this up because she loves you, and I will kill you. But, ya know, good luck. Yes, I’m high on pain meds, but I mean everything I just typed.
“Cans with a string?” I ask out loud, completely confused, but then it hits me like a ton of bricks. When we went to camp, we’d get stuck in the cabins that separated the boys from the girls. I made us a can and string phone, and that was how we talked at night. Posey never believed it worked and always made fun of us, but Ally and I never had a problem. It was how we communicated when we couldn’t be together. I don’t know why Posey is telling me this now, though. We aren’t at camp, and if I brought a can to Ally as a new way to communicate, she’d probably throw it in my face
