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I shrug my shoulders- I actually thought it went pretty well, given it was a first for all of us.
So I feel that it has come down to two choices. Call the asshole for her sake, thereby admitting defeat. Or just let him hang himself with one of his designer ties.
Either way, I really lose.
Sighing, I dig for my phone in my pocket. Pulling it out, I dial Mattheo's number. After several rings, his voicemail recording comes on.
"Hello, you've reached Ma-" I hang it up, not bothering to waste my time to leave a message that won't be heard.
Well, if the tiger won't come to the trainer, the trainer will go to the tiger.
Deciding to just go to his house, I put on a light jacket and head out the door to my car. On the way to his house, I’m thinking of nothing but Alexa. Her emotions have really taken a dive. Normally, she’s strong and has a bit of dominance in her voice and posture.
I think of our last conversation on her couch. We were making out, but it quickly turned to Mattheo. The recollection of the sadness in her voice almost breaks my heart. The dejection displayed on her face and in her eyes was too much to bear and I felt really badly for her.
This asshole is causing that sadness by his selfishness.
Gonna set that fucker straight.
A few more turns and I’ll be at his house. How should I approach this? I’m not even certain he’ll be there; let alone how he might react with me just showing up on his doorstep.
I pull my car to a halt in his driveway and get out. Sighing and shaking my head, I decide this is best for Alexa and I take the path to the front door.
I knock three times and step back, waiting.
No answer.
I knock three more times and wait, again. As I look around, I notice that newspapers are in piles, strewn about the doorstep and not picked up. Quizzically, I glance at the mailbox and see that envelopes, notices, and other types of advertisements are brimming from within.
What the hell?
"Hold on." someone slurs from inside. "Damn it."
I hear some things crash from inside the house and finally the door opens, but only a crack.
"What do you want?" An upset, but demanding voice asks.
"Mattheo?"
"What do you want?"
"Mattheo, It's James. I need to talk to you about Alexa."
"Alexa?"
The door fully opens to reveal a drunk and disheveled Mattheo, surrounded by the wreckage of a table and broken vase.
