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CHAPTER 22
Abby
Track 22: “I Love Onions” by Susan Christie
After at least an hour of debating whether or not I should call him, I decided to pick up the phone.
Sig answered on the second ring. “Everything alright?”
“Yes, but you shouldn’t have.” I bounced on my bed. “The gift you left me was perfect.”
“Well, I didn’t want your sweet tooth to keep you up tonight.”
“That was reallysweetof you.” I stilled at the sound of a woman’s voice in the background. Suddenly, I wanted to crawl into a hole. “Is…someone there with you?”
He hesitated. “She was…just leaving.”
“Oh.” A rush of jealousy caused me to perspire. “Gosh. I’ll let you go, then.”
“No,” he insisted. “Hang on.”
I heard some muffled talking, followed by a door slamming shut. He then returned to the phone. “Hi. Sorry.”
“I didn’t realize I was interrupting. Why did you answer the phone if you were hooking up with someone? I would’ve much preferred your voicemail.”
“It was more like abotchedhookup…all I seem to be having as of late.”
“Botched because of my interruption?”
“No. I’d botched it all on my own before you called.”
I had to ask. “Nothing…happened?”
“No.”
“How did you botch it?”
“It’s not the first time this has happened, particularly lately. When I reach out, I’m looking for an escape in the form of company. But by the time she gets here and is right in front of me, I…” He paused. “I don’t know…lose interest.”
His candor surprised me. Calming a bit, I lay on the bed and crossed one foot over the other. “Like when you have insomnia and order something online in the middle of the night? By the time it arrives days later, you’re like ‘What the heck is this? I must’ve been crazy to want it’?”
“Sort of like that, yeah.”
“You’re like an avocado, Sig.”
“An avocado? First I’m a cinnamon roll. Now I’m an avocado?”
“Yes. An avocado is only ripe and ready for a very brief time. Many times, you open it and it’s already brown. You miss the window if you so much as leave the room for too long.”
“Any other foods you wish to compare me to?”
“An onion.”
“Sorry I asked.”
“Actually, Felicity came up with that one.”
“Did she? Well, Ginger is just as mad as you are.” He sighed. “So tell me, Abby, how am I like an onion?”
