Page 114 of Choosing Forever
“Did you feel me prodding around in your brain?”
“Thankfully, no.”
“How disappointing. Oh well. Tell me what you’re up to.”
“I’m rereading the same paragraph I’ve read three times already in hopes I actually digest something this time.”
“Are you tired?”
“I’m always tired, Grams.”
Her concern strikes through the phone, feeling just as intenseas if I were there beside her. “It’s not good for your body to be so drowsy. Maybe you should make an appointment at a clinic.”
“I don’t need a doctor to tell me what’s wrong. I’m just not sleeping well,” I explain.
“Still? It’s not normal to have such problems sleeping. There could be something wrong.”
“My head is overloaded. That’s all. I just need to stop thinking so much in bed.”
That’s a simple way of putting it.
I can’t fall asleep because I’m too busy stalking Darren’s social media accounts in hopes that he’ll post some sappy quote about missing me or that maybe he’ll avoid that altogether and just fucking call me.
It’s been six months. Six. The longest we’d ever gone without speaking before this waszero. It hadn’t happened since before we met. From the moment we exchanged names, we became inseparable. Even during our “break,” we were in constant contact.
Everything about this has felt wrong in a million different ways. I’ve had to convince myself too many times to admit not to buy a last-minute plane ticket to Calgary and fly to see him. I thought the risk of him seeing me and telling me to get lost was worth it, until suddenly, it wasn’t.
I can’t hear him tell me we can’t be together again. I just can’t.
So instead, I’ve been here, miserable, alone, and awake until the birds start chirping because I can’t get this guy out of my goddamn head.
“I’ll send you some of my sleeping pills. They’ll have you sleeping right after supper,” Grandma declares.
“You’re not sending me contraband.”
“Oh, it’s not illegal to take sleeping pills, Delaney.”
“You never know. Campus security is pretty strict. They could be screening our call as we speak,” I tease.
“Oh, how I miss you, my girl.”
A hollow sensation grows in the pit of my stomach. “I miss you too.”
“I know you don’t want to come back here, but I would really appreciate if you came to see me. Not just for a day, but a few of them, if you can swing it,” she says, suddenly serious despite the easy conversation we were just having.
I straighten in my chair. “What’s wrong? Are you okay?”
“I’m okay. I wouldn’t ask unless it was important. You know how much I miss you, don’t you?”
“Of course I do. I’ll come, Grams. Let me just head back to my place so I can check the calendar. Give me like ten minutes.”
I’m already up and shoving my shit into the oversized book bag she got me for my birthday by the time she says, “Don’t rush on my account. I can wait for a text.”
“No, I’ll get you an answer while we’re already talking.”
“Delaney, take a breath,” she soothes.
I do that, feeling my lungs suck in the air greedily. “Sorry.”
