Page 53 of Still Here Without You

I need to talk to someone about what’s going on, and there’s only one person that comes to mind. I dial his number immediately, so I don’t chicken out, then bury my face in my hands, waiting for the call to connect.

“Pick up, pick up, pick up.”

The call goes to voicemail, so I jump up to start pacing before heading to my room. My stomach churns. I don’t want to be here, but I do. The pressure is getting to me, but at the same time, I know I can do this. I just need to push through. With two months to go, I can see the end in sight.

Picking up my invite to our upcoming fashion show, I try hard to focus on the excitement I had when I first received this. I was elated beyond anything I’ve felt. This has been my dream for so long, and it’s happening. The gold leaf-encrusted paper with my name on it shines brightly back at me, and I want to smile, I do. But today was rough, one of the hardest I’ve had, and to top it all off, Joel’s not answering my call—something that hasn’t happened once since I arrived here. It’s usually me missing his calls.

Dropping the invite to the floor, I fall face down onto my bed and cry. Cry for everything that’s happening here, cry for everything I’m missing back home, cry for Joel. I knew it would be a challenge staying in contact, while not actually being together, but I never thought I would feel like I do now. The way I miss his touch or his voice. The way I miss his teasing and smile. The way I obsess over what he’s doing. If he’s moved on. I made my decision, and I’m sticking to it, but it’s not fucking easy.

I hiss in surprise when my phone buzzes in my hand, not realizing I’m still holding it. Joel’s nickname flashes across the screen, and the sight of it instantly calms me.

Answering just before he’s sent to voicemail, I’m met with muffled talking and loud noise. I wait patiently for Joel to speak, wondering if it was a butt dial and hoping it’s not. The sounds die down and then a door shuts, bringing silence with it, until he speaks. “Delilah? Are you there?”

I smile at the sound of his voice until the weight of all the emotion I’m holding on to comes crashing down, causing me to cry into the phone.

“Fuck!Fuck! Are you okay? Talk to me, Del. What’s wrong?” The concern in his voice makes me cry even harder, struggling to speak through the tears.

“I’m. So. Sorry,” I blubber.

“Sorry for what? What’s going on?”

“It’s awful. They’re so awful. I…I’m sorry.”

“Has someone done something to you? Who’s awful? Delilah, you’re killing me here. I’m standing inside a bathroom on campus to get away from the noise. I’m freaking out.”

“Sorry. I'm sorry.”

“Jesus. Do I need to be there? Is there someone I can call? What should I do? Please, tell me what to do.”

His rising panic snaps me out of my downward spiral, and I manage to pause long enough to talk. “I’m okay. I promise.”

Joel sighs but stays silent.

“No one’s hurt me. Physically, anyway. I just feel like I’m drowning over here—the hours, the way management treats the interns. I’m sorry, I needed to talk to someone, and I wanted that someone to be you. I didn’t realize I was going to fall apart when you answered.”

“Oh, Del,” Joel says with another sigh. “My question still remains…What can I do? I’d do anything to take away your pain.”

At that I smile, because I know that it’s true.Two months. In two months I’ll be back in his arms, protected from the world. I need to prove to him, and myself, that I can do this on my own, because I already know I can do anything with Joel by my side.

“You just did it.”

“Did what?”

“Helped.”

“But—”

“Just trust me.” I laugh when I picture him shaking his head in frustration. “Any chance you’re free to talk, though? Tell me about life back home. All the boring and mundane things that I’m missing out on.”

Joel laughs, audibly relaxing. “Always,” he says, and I hate that he truly means that. He’s always been available to talk, yet I’m always busy. Joel continues, unaware of the guilt that I feel. “And boy do I have some great boring and mundane stories to tell…”

We talk for a couple of hours until I’m yawning through my words.

“Shit! I forgot about the time difference. How long until your alarm goes off?” Joel asks when one particular yawn is so loud it’s embarrassing.

“Don’t remind me.” Moving my phone in front of my face, I check the time and groan. “Ugh, way too soon.” The thought of having to get up to do yesterday all over again is stifling. What I wouldn’t give to have a normal day back at college.College…

Sitting up suddenly, a thought occurs to me. “Wait? Where are you?” I ask Joel, changing the subject.

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