Page 11 of Switched

I deal with the laundry first and get the machines started before I come back up the stairs to grab the trash. The trash bag is full of T-shirts I stole from him to sleep in, cologne, bathroom supplies and spare sets of clothes he kept here for when he slept over. I think I caught everything that might remind me of him. It was a little depressing to realize he never actually bought me anything in the three years we kind of dated, but I guess he planned those so called ‘work trips’ to avoid holidays that might require gift-giving.

“What an asshole,” I mutter, before I toss the bag into the dumpster.

Any guilt I might have felt for throwing away another person’s belongings is completely obliterated by the three years of my life Ben kept me on the hook while he had no intention of ever giving me a real commitment. I might have blinded myself to that, but my biggest sin was hoping for the best.

He did what he did with his eyes wide open.

I hope the next girl he messes around has a big brother with anger management issues.

I go back upstairs and put fresh sheets on the bed.

Then I change out of my work clothes, putting on my comfiest sweatpants, a tank top, and a sporty hoodie with cozy fleece lining. I look like I’m ready for bed, and I could easily sleep, but this is my favorite comfort night-in outfit. It’s not man-friendly and it doesn’t need to be.

All I want is to grab ice-cream from the freezer and put on a sweet rom-com movie, something where the hero is actually a great guy who loves the heroine.

Movie boyfriends are the best.

They’re almost always way sweeter and more caring than any guy a woman would ever meet in real life. It gives me hope that sweet, caring men exist, out there, somewhere.

I find a personal sized tub of chocolate ice-cream in the freezer, and I let out a relieved sigh.

Scarlett said she’d bring ice-cream, but she might not be here for a while.

This will be enough to perk me up until she gets here.

I pick a spoon out of the silverware drawer and then I head to the living room.

It’s a decent sized room with pale blue painted walls, an oak hardwood floor and a mid-blue colored sofa and armchair. The TV is a modest 32” and sits on an oak cabinet that’s full of DVDs and it’s hooked up to a DVD player.

Ben laughed when he saw my collection.

He asked how old I was.

I told him it’s not a crime to love movies so much you need to own copies of them.

He didn’t seem convinced.

I’m glad I didn’t let his ridicule force me to let them go.

I put on one of my favorites and pick up the remote as I move back to the sofa.

The starting scene music helps me relax as I sit down and open the small tub of ice-cream.

The world melts away as I watch two of my favorite characters stumbling over their feelings for each other, until finally they admit how much they mean to each other, and they fall into one another’s arms.

The end credits song plays, and I sigh softly.

A noise makes me turn my head toward the door, but I don’t hear it again.

It takes a second to realize the sound I just heard was a knock.

Oh, right! Scarlett was on her way over.

I jump to my feet and leave the living room.

When I answer the door, I find Scarlett standing in the hall in her usual ripped jeans and red leather jacket combo, her bright blue eyes fixed on something going on at the end of the corridor.

We might be identical, but everyone always notices there’s something special about Scarlett.

---