Page 21 of Strings
“It could always be worse.”
He’s right. It could bea lotworse.
Famous last words.
Breaking up is easy. Staying together is hard.
“Well, that has to be the worst first day in the history of first days,” I tell Stella as I walk through the door and kick off my shoes. My arches scream out in agony. Heels are torture devices.
“How was your day? Did you work on your tan?” I drop my keys on the floor next to my purse and walk over to my friend. Her leaves are drooping. She looks sick.
“Oh my God!” I shout. I pick her up and run to the kitchen. Her soil is dry as a bone. “Don’t die, Stella! I’m the worst friend ever! How could I forget to water you?”
I put her under the sink and fill her up until the water is spilling over the sides. I lift her little plastic container to see holes on the bottom. The water seeps right through. “This isn’t good at all! You need a better pot. I promise you I will go get you something fancy to live in if you don’t die, okay? I need you, Stella. Stay with me!”
I place a washcloth under her and set her back on the table, facing her toward the sun. I watch her for a few moments until I realize she isn’t going to perk up immediately. I slump down into my couch and hope my talking will release carbon dioxide into the air.
“Do you want to hear what happened to me?” I wait as if she’s going to respond. “Not only did I pass out in front of the entire orchestra, but now my assistant and half the building thinks I’m having some kind of torrid affair with the concert wizard, or whatever it is that they call him.”
I stand and unzip my skirt, tossing it on the chair. “And then I met my boss, who quizzed me for an hour on my vision for more efficient logistical interfacing for the venue. I’m glad I did some research on event management. I think I came across like a fairly intelligent liar. Thank God Amy was there. She talks so much, she almost answered half his questions before I could open my mouth.”
I start to unbutton my blouse when there’s a knock on my door. I wonder if it’s Cherese. She sent me a message saying she had to stay late and couldn’t drive me home. She was nice enough to tell me the bus numbers to get back here, but it took twice as long as driving and I’m fairly certain the guy sitting behind me was jacking off the entire time.
I decide to ignore the knock. I’m in no mood to converse with anyone. I’m guessing Cherese has a ton of questions and I have zero answers. I should have given Bash my cell so he could text me our story after he broke the news to Bella. But do I want him to have my number? No, No I don’t. I wonder how much time I’ll have to spend around them. I pray it’s zilch. Now I have three people to avoid instead of one. Karma is a little bitch.
The knocking continues on my door. I slide down my couch onto the floor with wide eyes as if they can somehow see me, and hiding will make them go away.
After a few minutes, it stops. Rubbing my eyes with my fists, I yawn. I undo the buttons on my blouse and toss it, my bra, and my lace underwear on the chair next to my skirt. Turning the water on in my tub, I decide a hot bath is the only thing that will make me feel better.
I pour myself a mug of vodka on ice and slide into the warm water. My phone rings from the sink and it takes me off guard. No one has my new number except dreary Diana and she has no reason to call me. It must be a mistake.
After thirty minutes, the water feels cool, so I force myself out. I feel slightly better. Wrapped in a towel, I walk into my bedroom and flop on my bed, willing the day to be over. Tomorrow has to be better. It has to be.
I’m startled awake by pounding on my door. I must have fallen asleep. God damn! Someone is knocking again? Why am I so popular today? Ignoring it for the third time today, I reach over to my nightstand to check the time on my phone.Where is it?
As I roll over, I’m suddenly cold. My wet skin combined with sleeping on a wet towel has me shivering. I open a drawer and pull a sweatshirt over my head and old ratty sweats up my legs. I’m instantly warmer, although not quite warm enough. I sit on the bed for a moment and try to remember where I last had my phone. Remembering the call when I was in the tub, I slowly amble my way to the bathroom. It’s still on the sink where I left it.
Before I can get a good look at the time, I notice six missed calls and three voicemails. What the hell?
I play the first one back. “Seven forty-nine p.m. Umm, hi, Ms. Talia, I mean Talia, um, this is Amy from the Sym. I hope you don’t mind my calling you, but I was catching up on some work and I heard Sebastian Corronov was looking for you. I figured you might want to call him. Since, well. Um. Anyway. Bye.”
Why is he looking for me? Ugh.
“Beep—next missed message.”
“Eight thirty-four p.m. Um, hi, Talia, it’s me, Amy, your assistant again. Um, I hope I did the right thing. I mean, I know you two are dating and he said you changed your number and he lost it so I figured it was okay to give it to him. Right? Oh, boy. I mean, technically it’s in the company directory, so I’m sure you’re cool with it, but if you could call me back and let me know you’re not angry with me, I’d really appreciate it because I’ve been sitting here at work since it happened and wondering if…”
“Beep—next missed message.”
I roll my eyes and lean against the counter. Why would Sebastian want to call me? Oh, maybe he has a break-up story for me.
“Eight forty-seven p.m. Hi, Talia, it’s Sebastian. I really need to speak to you. I’m… I’m sitting outside your door right now. I really have to speak to you, so if you could open your door, or come home, that would be grand. Fuck. Bye.”
What? He’s outside my door? I check the time. It’s 9:22. He called at 8:47. He can’t still be there, can he? Who was just knocking then?
“You have no more messages.”
I rush to my door and look out the peephole. I don’t see him. Maybe he left me a note. Quickly yanking it open, I shrill when he falls back into my apartment. He must have been leaning against the door.
