Wait For It

by Michele L. Rivera

  Abby snickers. “Not that you’re keeping track or anything,” she razzes.

  I smile. “Me? No. Never.”

  “Were you always the Activities Director?” Abby asks.

  “No.” I shake my head. “I was an Activities Attendant my first year and then I got promoted.”

  “Do you enjoy slaving away in the nonprofit sector?”

  “I do. It’s very rewarding,” I say. “Besides, who needs a six-figure salary? I do well for myself. I should have my college loans paid off when I’m sixty-two.”

  Abby laughs. “I can empathize.”

  “Really?” I look fixedly at her. “What do you do for work?”

  “It’s mind-boggling to me that we know each other’s favorite songs, but never talked about our jobs,” Abby says.

  “We’re talking now, aren’t we?”

  “We are.” Abby drinks from the mug she’s nursing with both hands. “It feels date-ish.” She sets her cup on the table. “Does this feel date-ish to you?”

  The left side of my mouth does some weird, nervous, twitch thing. What the fuck was that? I purse my lips to camouflage any impending facial spasms and give Abby a nonchalant shrug. How do I answer her question? Should I just tell her everything? No, it’s too soon. Right? Is it too soon? Yes. It’s too soon. “Nah. This isn’t feeling date-ish at all,” I say. “We’re two friends reuniting and sociably gathering intel on one another…in a completely chummy-like manner,” I bumble.

  Abby squints. “Are you nervous?”

  “Ha!” I place my hand over my heart. “No.”

  “Are you sure?” Abby asks. “You were babbling.”

  I scoff. “I didn’t babble.”

  “Yes you did.”

  “No.” I shake my head. “I didn’t.”

  Abby sighs. “Okay. If you say so.”

  “I say so.”

  “Alright then,” Abby says.

  “Alright. Good.” I quickly begin folding and unfolding the edges of my napkin.

  “Parker?”

  I glance up at Abby. “Yeah?”

  “Is that what we are? Friends?” Abby asks.

  I go to swallow, but my mouth is dry. There’s no saliva to swallow, only air—bitter-tasting air. “I want to be your friend. Do you want us to be friends?”

  Abby smiles. “Yes, you dork. I totally want to be friends with you.”

  I return the smile. “You’re a dork.”

  Abby points to the cup in front of me. “Drink your coffee and stop your yapping.”

  I stick my tongue out at her. “Don’t tell me what to do.” I take a sip of my beverage, which evokes a slight chuckle from Abby. After the tepid liquid coats my throat, I grin at her. All teeth. “Anywho, you were about to tell me what it is you do for a living.”

  “Oh? Was I?” Abby asks, her eyes shiny with amusement.

  “Yup.”

  “If you must know,” Abby starts. “I’m a Case Manager at a residential program downtown.”

  “That’s extremely altruistic work,” I say.

  “Thank you. I’d like to think so.”

  “You don’t have to thank me, it is,” I reassure her. “Who are the residents?”

  “Domestic abuse survivors.”

  I stare at Abby, awestruck. “Wow.”

  “Yeah.” Abby nods. “It can be intense sometimes, but it’s satisfying.”

  “In other words, you’re a saint,” I say.

  “Pretty much.” Abby smirks. “Enough about me. It’s your turn.”

  “For what?”

  “You said you had things to tell me.” Abby rests her arms on the table and folds them. “That is why we’re here, isn’t it?”

  I exhale. “It is.”

  “I’m all ears,” Abby says.

  “This would be the part where I apologize for my disappearing act, but you frown upon that.”

  “I do.”

  “Then I’ll skip to the next part,” I say. “Where I tell you that I broke up with Reese a month later…because of you.” I feel my skin flush.

  There’s a deep crease in the middle of Abby’s forehead. “Because of me?”

  Tell her how you feel. “Yeah…um…” My palms begin to sweat. “I met you and everything changed for me and I started to question…I don’t know.” I scrunch up my face. “You know?”

  Abby bites her bottom lip; her eyebrows are slanted towards the bridge of her cute nose. “No.”

  Fuck this is hard. “Right,” I say. “Let me try again.” I clear my throat. “Abby, that night, when you told me you were…uh…fall—”

  “Whoa!” Abby interjects, her right hand is held up, signaling for me to stop. “Let’s please forget that ever happened. I shouldn’t have said that to you.”

  My heart misses its next beat, and the one that is supposed to come after it. “Why?” My voice is strangled.

  “I don’t want to get into it.”

  “What you said, though…did you mean it?” I ask.

  Abby takes a deep breath. “I meant it when I said it, yes. But it’s in the past. We’ve moved on.”

  My chest concaves. “We have?” I ask quietly.

  “Yeah. You’re living your life post-Reese and I’m with Jess now.”

  An invisible force slams into my stomach, driving the oxygen from my lungs. I feel every single bone in my body crumble beneath my skin. The color leaves my face as the blood stops pumping through my veins. I am going to be sick. “Who’s Jess?”

  “My girlfriend,” Abby says.

  “You have a girlfriend.” I nod. “I didn’t see that coming.” My gaze meets Abby’s. She suddenly looks wan and bleary-eyed.

  “Shit,” Abby mumbles. “Why are we really here, Parker?”

  She’s onto me. I can’t tell Abby how I really feel about her. I can’t interfere with her relationship. Perhaps this is the same reason Abby thinks she shouldn’t have told me she was falling for me when she did.

  I smile flimsily. “I wanted to thank you.”

  “For what?”

  “I felt happy when we were…um…when we were dating,” I say. “And then when we weren’t dating anymore, I…” Don’t say too much. “I realized some things, which is why I called off my engagement to Reese.” I pick at the hangnail on my thumb. “Reese and I weren’t good for each other,” I explain. “It was for the better.”

  “Okay, but calling off the engagement was your choice,” Abby says.

  “Uh huh. It was.”

  “Then tell me again why you’re thanking me?” Abby asks.

  Be vague. “Because you taught me about happiness and I understand now what it feels like when it’s there and when it’s not and with Reese, it wasn’t there.”

  I can almost see Abby piecing my words together behind the almond-brown of her irises.

  “But you felt happy around me?” Abby inquires.

  “Um. Yes.”

  Abby inhales. The sound cuts through the air.

  Whoops! I said too much.

  “What are you trying to say?” She asks me.

  Fix this! “I told you…I’m thanking you,” I say.

  “That’s it? That’s all of it? There’s nothing else?”

  I can’t quite gauge the tone of her voice. I shake my head. “Nope. Nothing else.”

  “Alright,” Abby says. “Then I guess you’re welcome.” She takes her cellphone from her pocket and glances at it. “I should get going.” She stands up.

  “Wait!” I rise from my chair. “That’s not all of it.”

  Abby looks at me. “What’s the rest of it?”

  “I missed you,” I say.

  Abby smiles. “I missed you back.”

  “Can I walk you to your car?” I ask. Please say yes. Please say yes.

  “No, that’s alright. Thanks though.”

  Damnit. The hollow feeling inside of me grows. “Do you want to hang out again sometime soon?” I try to subdue the hope in my voice.

  “Definitely,” Abby says. �
��I’ll call you.”

  “Cool.”

  Abby opens her arms. “Hug?”

  “Yeah. Friends hug,” I say.

  “For sure. Friends are forever hugging.”

  We share a smile and I fall into Abby’s embrace. Our limbs are loose around each other at first, but I pull her closer to me and she squeezes back for a few wonderful seconds that I silently wish truly were forever. I breathe in her scent. She is still my favorite smell. As Abby inches away, our cheeks graze and I nearly choke on my unshed tears. Abby reaches up and tucks one of the longer front layers of my hair behind my left ear.

  “You do dazzle me,” Abby says. “You always have.” She leans in and kisses my forehead. I feel her lips everywhere. I want to grab her and ask her to stay, but I don’t. I can’t. I watch her leave.

  Chapter Twenty-Five

  I’m on my knees in my bathroom, hunched over the toilet bowl, my hands gripping its porcelain edges. I think about the universe’s cruel sense of humor—to bring Abby back into my life only to let me know that I can’t be with her. I think about unspoken words. I think about untold feelings. I think about regret. I think about the star I wished on that night last October when I wished for Abby without knowing why, but knowing why and not wanting to know why. I think about choices and untaken chances, which leads me back to thinking about regret. My head pounds loudly. Then louder. White, hot sadness flutters through me. It physically hurts. I release another sob. I hear Abby’s voice telling me she’s falling for me and then I hear the silence that follows—my silence. How, I wonder, does a person make it from one day to the next knowing that they had something sacred in their grasp and willingly let it go for someone else to take? I imagine Abby lying in the arms of another woman. Jess. I shut my eyes tight, reel forward and vomit…again. I spit and flush the contents of my stomach down the toilet. Spent, I lean my head a little to the left, resting it against the wall. A driblet of cold sweat runs between my shoulder blades.

  Once my breathing steadies, I reach up and grab the towel rack above me. I use it for support as I sluggishly pull myself off the floor. I shamble over to the sink. I turn on the faucet, splash my face with cool water, and rinse out my mouth. I take a clean cloth out of the linen closet behind me and pat my skin dry with it.

  I wearily make my way from the bathroom to the kitchenette. I should probably eat something, but my appetite is shot. I should also probably hydrate because that would be wise. I don’t feel like being wise though. I feel like wallowing. This is, after all, my first broken heart. Ha! I broke my own heart. I snort resentfully at myself then I go for the open bottle of cabernet on the counter. This oughta give me salvation. I twist the cork off and lift the wine to my lips. The liquid scalds my already-parched throat, but it doesn’t bother me. Ruby appears in front of me. She looks at me and I can see the disapproval in her beady eyes. “Yeah. Yeah,” I say to my cat. “I know I should be getting my electrolytes on. I’ve already had this conversation with myself and me and myself decided we’d rather get drunk…because wallowing. Please don’t judge me. I’m grieving.” Ruby rubs her furry body against my leg and purrs. “Thanks for understanding, girl.”

  With the bottle in my hand, I shuffle over to my space-saving dining set, comprising a small, wooden table and two chairs nested beneath it. I take my phone out of my bag, which is hanging on the back of one of the seats. I sit down, chug more wine, and set the bottle on the table. I stare at the screen of my outdated mobile device, type in my password and unlock my alphabetized contact list. There and then, my thumb is resting on Abby’s name. Because her number is disconnected, I don’t even hesitate to press it. I put the phone to my ear and listen to the ringing, awaiting the operator’s voice that comes after the third chime. One. Two.

  “Hello?” Abby answers.

  There’s a sharp pinch in my chest. Shit! Now what? My stomach seesaws.

  “Hello?” Abby speaks again. “Parker?”

  Answer her! She has caller ID. If you hang up, you will become a whole new category of creeper.

  “Abby…er…hi.” I sound as stupefied as I feel. “I wasn’t expecting you to pick up.” WHAT? Why would you say that? I whack the side of my head with my left palm.

  Abby chuckles. “Who exactly did you think would answer my phone?”

  “Um.” I expel all the air from my lungs. “Truth be told, I thought your number was out of service,” I explain.

  “What would make you think that?”

  “It’s a long story,” I say.

  “I’d love to hear it.”

  I bang my forehead against the table repeatedly. “Yeah, but really you don’t want to hear it because it’s that long. It’s a wicked epic narrative. A total snooze fest. It’d be a waste of your time.”

  “Right, but I’m pretty sure only I get to decide what’s worthy of my time and what isn’t,” Abby says. “Don’t you agree?”

  I clench my teeth together. “Yes.”

  “Okay. Tell me the story then.”

  Oh boy. This is going to suck. I clear my throat.

  “Wait!” Abby commands.

  Thank god.

  “If you thought my number was disconnected, why did you dial it?” Abby asks.

  Damn. “To…uh…to make certain.” I take a significant pause. “That it was out of order…” Pause. “Before I deleted it.”

  “Ohh-kaay.”

  “I admit, it seems crazy. I seem crazy,” I say.

  “A little, yes. But I’m not criticizing.”

  “Thanks.”

  “No prob,” Abby says. “You were going to delete me then, huh? I’m insulted.”

  “Whoa! No! Don’t be insulted. I was going to delete you only because I didn’t think your number was valid anymore. But it is valid therefore I won’t be deleting it.” My speech is frenetic.

  “I’m joking you, Parker. Breathe.”

  There’s a brief silence between us.

  “You still haven’t told me why you initially thought my number was disconnected,” Abby says.

  “I’m getting there.” I raise my head from the table and stand. I begin pacing the breadth of my studio apartment. “Alright, so there was this one night a few months ago when I called you and the operator answered saying that your number was out of service.”

  “Huh. That’s odd,” Abby says. “You said this was a few months ago?”

  “Yup.” I nod. “Maybe around February-ish.”

  “Ah! I know why that happened,” Abby declares. “My phone was out of service for about two weeks back in February because of where we were staying in Scotland. It was completely off the grid. There weren’t any cell towers. I had no reception.”

  I stop moving. We? Did she go on a vacation with Jess? Ugh. “Wow. You went to Scotland?”

  “I did.”

  “With Jess?” I ask apprehensively.

  Abby snickers. “Parker, Parker, Parker…are you prying?”

  “Psht. No,” I lie. “You mentioned a ‘we’ and I assumed you were alluding to you and …her.”

  “Jess,” Abby says.

  My top lip curls up in disgust. “Yeah. Jess.”

  “Well, your assumption was off the mark. When I said ‘we’, I meant me and Nana.”

  I glance up at the ceiling and let out a sigh of relief. “That’s awesome,” I say way too excitedly. “How was it?”

  “It was amazing! We got to go on a tour of the castles and they were divine. The whole experience was absolutely majestic.”

  I smile at the exuberance in Abby’s voice. “I believe it.”

  “It was definitely the best birthday present ever,” Abby says. “And also the most extravagant. Nana says it’ll probably be the last gift she ever gives me.” She laughs.

  “You went for your birthday?”

  “We did.”

  “When’s your birthday?” I ask.

  “February nineteenth.”

  “Oh.” I get a sinking feeling in my belly. “I missed your birthday,
” I say. “I’m sorry.”

  “Aargh! Parker!”

  “What?”

  “You don’t have to be sorry,” Abby says. “You excessively apologize for misdoings you didn’t do.”

  I open my mouth, on the verge of apologizing for apologizing, but dig my teeth into my bottom lip. I’m quiet.

  “You were going to apologize, weren’t you?” Abby asks.

  “Ha!” I scoff. “Don’t act like you know me.”

  “I do know you, though.”

  “Yeah, you do,” I admit.

  I can almost hear Abby’s smile. “Since you brought up the topic,” she says. “When is your birthday?”

  “October twenty-eighth.” I speak tentatively, overly conscious that I dropped out of Abby’s life less than a week prior to my birthday.

  “Is it?” Abby asks rhetorically. “That was only a couple of days after you…after we…right,” she blunders. “So, I missed your birthday, too. We’re even then.”

  “Abby?”

  “Yes?”

  “I genuinely am sorry, though,” I say. “That we missed each other’s birthdays…for all the days we missed.”

  There is nothing but noiselessness on Abby’s end for nearly a full minute.

  “What are you saying?” Abby asks.

  Don’t interfere. “I’m saying that, as friends, we could maybe make a promise to be there for one another from now on…for everything.”

  “Oh. Right. Yeah. Totally,” Abby sputters.

  “Okay good.” I exhale. “I promise to be there for you.”

  “I promise to be there for you, too.”

  Another lull. It’s as if we are both waiting for something else. For something more.

  “I should go,” Abby finally says. “It’s getting late.”

  “Would you look at that? It is getting late.” I have no idea what time it is. “We’ll talk soon?”

  “We will.”

  “Alright then,” I say. “Goodnight, Abby.”

  “Goodnight, Parker.”

  We hang up. I lie on my bed as the fissure in my heart deepens. I listen to the dial tone until, eventually, I fall into a restless sleep.

  Chapter Twenty-Six