one

seven

The day after the party I woke up feeling totally at peace, exhausted but full of content. Maeve and I had stayed up past midnight watching and arguing about our favourite films, before she fell asleep and I headed home. I felt compelled to stay but protocol seemed unclear and I thought I would be more likely to annoy her if I stayed over unwanted than if she found me gone in the morning. I smiled to myself. Anyway, the weight of knowing that I had to leave in the end made the evening feel even more magical than it had already been. 

I grabbed a piece of paper and began to compile the beginnings of a playlist:

one

1. fancy shoes - the walters

It was becoming devastatingly obvious that I liked Maeve as more than a friend and, as usual, instead of addressing my emotions like a rational human being, I used music as a way of feeling conflicted and obsessive without actually having to talk to her. "Fancy shoes" felt nostalgic, sad almost, but certain in that it explored a perfect evening and the impermanence of complete happiness between two people. There's this idea of needing, relying on someone to fall asleep and regret in the fact that you took them for granted until they were no longer yours anymore. That felt beautiful to me, I didn't think there was any point in believing in perfect love, besides the obvious (Maeve being straight), people were such complex, convoluted characters in life's play and much of love rested on this fruitless lottery of location, emotion and cooperation. In that way, as much as I wanted to be with Maeve, I didn't think it was an option as such, it would either be or it wouldn't. 

Sensing myself begin to go down a bit of an emotional blackhole I rolled out of bed, shoved the piece of paper in my guitar case and wandered downstairs simultaneously running my hand through my coffee-coloured mop of hair. It was simple to get ready, hungover as I was, in general I took alcohol quite well so I felt fairly clear headed and was able to concentrate on putting the finishing touches to an English essay I hadn't had the chance to finish the night before. Then, after running downstairs, I grabbed a couple of Oreos (healthy breakfast I know) and pulled the note from the night before off the counter, given it was irrelevant now. Then I walked outside, sighing with relief as I put my headphones back in and felt the music gently fill my head again. 

School was odd. It had become routine to arrive about forty minutes early and meet Maeve and Otis, after which Otis would go therapise people for the clinic and Maeve and I would sit in the science labs, not talking about anything specific but just enjoying the fact the other person was there. Sometimes she could be angsty at that time but I was getting good at predicting why and not asking about it but just listening to music with her until she felt okay enough to bring it up in conversation or, more likely, tell me to fuck off.  That morning, however, Maeve didn't show up. She had texted Otis the times of his appointments but other than that, stayed totally silent. To say that was weird would be an understatement, Maeve was innately one of the very few things in my life that was there when you expected it and I liked that, so I was upset that this morning had been an exception. Trying not to think too much about it, I tried to work on a history essay due later that day. I figured it was too soon to text her, after all, she wasn't obligated to come, it was just nice. 

By forth period, however, it was becoming increasingly clear that Maeve wasn't in school at all and I was starting to panic. Unsuccessfully attempting to be cool, I ran over to Aimee, "Hey, Maeve, school" I yelled across the corridor. "She looked up at me confused. I gulped in air and repeated myself, but more coherently this time "I was wondering if you knew why Maeve isn't in school today. I'm just worried she's not okay for some reason". "Aw babes" Aimee smiled "it's nice you're thinking about her. I don't know though. Sometimes with Maeve she just disappears for a few days. You have to learn to not be too worried". I smiled, feigning relief but inside I was still anxious. It wasn't that I didn't think Maeve was capable of looking after herself, she was, but more that I was worried she was being forced to deal with things on her own. 

I groaned. I didn't want to text her and seem desperate because if it turned out to be nothing I knew I would be the one left feeling stupid but at the same time what if things were really wrong. The rational part of my brain said I should listen to Aimee, or at least wait a little longer to see if she contacted me. At least that way she wouldn't feel hassled. 

I headed home, somewhat dejected.