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“What’s wrong?” I ask, thinking of the night her dad died in the gas explosion.
There’s the same pain in her voice now, the same sense of desperation.
“Something bad has happened,” she says. “Nothappened. But I think it might.”
“Wait a second.” I find myself pacing the alleyway from the trashcan to the wall, and graffiti dotted here and there, hard to make out in the shadowy semidarkness. “You need to slow down. I don’t understand.”
“Do you remember my ex…Mike?”
He was around thirty-five, and I only met him twice. I didn’t like him, how he stared at Julie like he owned her and how he glared at anybody else who looked at her.
That’s ironic, considering that’s exactly how I want Felix to look at me… and to get pissed if other men want me. The same way I would if Lexi tried to hit on him in front of me.
But with Mike, it was thewayhe did it. Mostly, it was something difficult to define.
His aura, his generalhimness.
I was relieved when she broke it off.
“Yes,” I say, thinking of the conversation we had after the first time I met him.
I told Julie he was too old for her. She was nineteen then, meaning he was twice her age.
Now, with Felix, I find myself almost laughing at the thought of caring about that.
The secret truth was it was never about his age but wanting to protect Julie from a relationship that wasn’t making her happy.
Or is that an excuse to justify this feeling…the feeling that won’t go away, that makes it difficult to think about Felix without collapsing into a heap of emotion?
“Julie?” I ask when she doesn’t say anything.
“Mike called earlier.”
“Okay.”
“And he said some crazy stuff. Bad things. About you. About what was going to happen to you tonight. I’m so sorry.”
“Mike is a computer programmer,” I murmur. “And you broke up ages ago. What does he want with me? And anyway, what could he do, really? He would’ve done it by now.”
Julie breaks down into sobs. It comes so violently. It’s like part of me feels it, my throat getting tight, my chest aching.
“Julie?” I say.
She replies, but I can’t hear her through all the crying. I can’t even make out a single word. It’s all so jumbled.
“Just please come home,” she says finally. “I can’t do this over the phone.”
“I’m leaving right now. I’ll be home soon.”
“Okay…see youverysoon.”
I hang up the phone and walk toward the street, thoughts of networking forgotten.
It was a pointless activity after Felix left anyway since all my thoughts were focused on him, the brief time we spent together.
So much more impactful than any other conversation I’ve had.
Ever.
