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Sorry you had to find this out from a note but after dinner, I knew you’d freak out again if I tried telling you in person. So I’m saving you the stress of yelling. Be mad, by all means, but please don’t call me about this. You’re not changing my mind.
Again, I love you. Hope we can smile for ice cream again soon.
Love,
Julia
Tears burn my cheeks. I just got her back and now…
I rip my phone from my pocket and bring up Julia’s number.
…but please don’t call me about this…
If I grip the phone any harder it might break.
Holding in a scream, I follow my feet back down the stairs to my studio. When I open the door and flip on the light, anger bubbles in my chest coming face to face with the fully stocked shelves. How am I supposed to get through this without something to distract me?
I swipe my thumb up the screen of my phone to my ex-wife’s number.
Forget it. I sigh setting the phone on the checkout counter around the corner from the studio door.
Julia’s mother will just take the opportunity to rub it in my face and brag about how she and Julia never fight and they have such a good relationship. Julia never would have run away from her.
I slump over the counter. Propping my head in my hands, fists in my hair, I stare at the phone lying dormant between my elbows.
I don’t even have any friends I can call. None I can talk to about something like this, anyway. They don’t live around here and we’ve lost touch. I can’t remember the last time I said more than a couple of words to any of them. There’s Nell, my store manager. She’s the closest thing I have to a friend anymore and she has a kid but nowhere close to Julia’s age.
That black screen staring at me threatens to pull me in. Some kind of depressive black hole.
I know exactlyoneperson close to Julia’s age. And she told me to call her in case of an emergency. Or whatever…
I hold my phone in both hands, my forearms still supporting me on the countertop. Only now, instead of the ominous blank screen, Riley’s phone number threatens to pull me into something scarier than a black hole. Something I’ve known the name for from the beginning.
Trouble.
I shut my eyes and take a deep breath. When I open them, my gaze drifts to the front of the store, out the large bay display window before locking onto Riley walking by on the other side of the street.
Like when my feet led me, out of habit, to my studio to work through my anger, my thumb, for reasons unknown, press the button to call her.
Riley stops and so does my heart.
She pulls her purse from her side to her stomach, unzips it, and fishes through the contents before pulling out her phone. Then freezes with her finger pointing at the screen.
Answer, please.
Riley’s head turns toward my shop. When our eyes meet, she raises the phone to her ear and with a wave, says in my ear, “hey.”
∞∞∞
RILEY
“Hello, Riley.”
His voice melts against my eardrum, smooth and rich making me question why I’ve been avoiding him. But then worry takes over and I wonder why he decided to stop avoiding me.
“Is something wrong?” I ask.
“Julia left. Ran off to live with some boy she barely knows.”
