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Fourteen
Christa
Five months.
Five months of no contact.
Five months of loneliness.
Five months of wondering if he’s okay.
Five months of tears.
Every day I cry. And I’m not a crier. When I broke up with my ex, Richie, it sucked and I shed a few tears, but after two or three weeks, I’d completely moved on. This is nothing like that. I have good and bad days, and unfortunately, today is a bad day.
Areallybad day.
It’s been a long, hard week at work with the DA continuing on to officially indict our client for the home invasion robbery when we don’t believe he did it. How they conjured up the evidence, I don’t even know. The case is flimsy but meanwhile, a man’s life is being ruined. With how emotional I’ve been lately, I sometimes I want to cry for the guy.
But I can’t. I’m all cried out over own stupid personal issues. But Melinda and I will fight hard to keep him from getting convicted. I just have to dig up more evidence. The temptation to go to talk to Mr. Larsen again is strong, but he needs his space. Thankfully, Maureen came out of her coma and is left with some permanent injuries like memory loss and headaches, but she did pull through.
I sit on my sofa eating chocolate ice cream and drinking wine. Yes, it’s gross together. No, I don’t care.
The series I’m watching isn’t keeping my attention. I’m PMSing but I’d rather wallow until I’m through it. Taryn hinted at maybe trying some antidepressants, but I don’t want to. Something inside of me tells me I need to feel this. Because if I don’t, I can’t move past it. Trust me when I say, I’d rather just numb myself with the meds, but I won’t. I’ve also lost another five pounds, not sure how since I eat nothing but junk, it seems. Hiking is out of the question, as November weather sucks big donkey balls here in Colorado. I’m sure the seasonal shit is adding to my depression. Outside is dreadful sometimes. We get sunshine but it’s cold and blustery and it makes me want to go back inside. I long for warmer days but that will be months from now. It would be so much easier to weather the winter if I didn’t have to do it alone, but instead, snuggled up against a warm, hard chest and being held by strong arms as I sleep.
I scoop another bite into my mouth. What is Eric doing? Is he safe over there? Is he helping people? Will he be better when he gets back?Ishe coming back?
Taryn gives me bits and pieces. He’s working with the medical staff in basically a medical tent tending to the locals’ health problems. He’s not even in the big city of Kenya, he’s outside in some village. I’m grateful for the updates she gives me during our rare girls’ nights out, but I don’t ask anything past that. She knows I’m a miserable bitch and I hope that’s enough for her to see that I love her brother. I’m giving him his space, as she’s asked, but that doesn’t mean I don’t love him and long to see him.
I think about the sex club I visited. The loneliness is eating at me, and I long to be held by strong arms and feel wanted. Every month, when the app alerts me of the new location, I itch to get dressed up and go there, but I don’t. I tell myself that empty, meaningless sex isn’t going to fulfill me, and I need to wait until he gets back.
It’s been five months... Will he be back in a month—mere weeks?
Next time Taryn contacts me, I vow to ask her. After what I’ve been through, I’m owed that, at least. I have to prepare myself for his anticipated rejection, the one I know is coming when he returns. No way he still wants me after all this time. If he did, he’d have at least contacted me.
My phone dings with a text.
Lauryn:Wanna hang out? I have gossip.
Me:Fuck yeah. Where?
