𝑻𝒉𝒆𝒓𝒂𝒑𝒚

Fourteen

𝚃𝚒𝚕𝚕𝚒𝚎'𝚜 𝙺𝚒𝚝𝚌𝚑𝚎𝚗

𝟷𝟹 𝚁𝚎𝚞𝚡 𝙻𝚗, 𝚀𝚞𝚊𝚗𝚝𝚒𝚌𝚘, 𝚅𝙰

𝙼𝚊𝚛𝚌𝚑 𝟹, 𝟸𝟶𝟷𝟸

𝟻:𝟶𝟼 𝙿.𝙼.

Tillie sat alone on the black, metal bar stools, her phone being held face up, lazily, in her right hand, as her other rested gently on her lips. She didn't know when, but somewhere in the middle of listening, tears welled in her eyes and freely flew down her face. Salt stung her chapped lips as she set down her phone as softly as she could and buried her face in her hands. She didn't even know why she was crying. She just felt it all spill out of system. Every feeling, every sorrow, everything pent up from the last few months poured out into the chilled air. 

How could she be so selfish? How could she just walk away without a word to one of the only people who actually genuinely cared for her? 

Sitting in silence, choppily broken up by her sobs, she took a moment for herself. Minutes later, she sat up straight, staring into the window right across from her, above the sink. There was a lot of light left in the sky. 

Picking up her phone once more, she checked the time stamp for the last message. 

12:26 P.M... That should've been plenty of time.

And Tillie, being the most impulsive, reckless person she knew, grabbed her bag, and walked out the front door and into her blue Volkswagen.

Before she even knew what she was doing, she had already arrived at Haddon Apartment Complex, parked in an empty parking space, right by a struggling, small, maple tree. She looked in her mirror and came to the realization of two things the eventually lead to a couple other thoughts. 

1) The tear tracks on her face were pretty horrendous...

2) It's been a hot moment since she's been in his apartment, and let's just say she doesn't have the best of memories...

These latter of the thoughts made her wonder, Oh, I could just ask someone. But the prior of the thoughts would make her look like a crazy person and the cops might get called on her. Who knows, whoever she asks might think she's a crazy ex trying to stalk Spencer or something. 

After debating with herself for quite a while, headlights caught her attention. Looking to her right. A gray car was parked, but who was inside the car was what made her sit up straight the most. A tall, slender man, with unruly, brown curls opened the car door, and walked out with a brown leather bag. 

"Spencer," she whispered to herself. Oh, how the timings of the Universe seemed to work in her favor today. 

Instead of just running up to him, she chose the slightly more creepy option. She would loosely follow him to his apartment, and wait, and then knock on his door. 

Her thought process was this: If she ambushed him in the parking lot, it would seem like she was waiting for him, however, if she loosely followed him like a creeper, and knocked on his door, it would seem like she just got there, right after him. 

So, creepy, but not really. 

Commencing the plan, she steadily walked behind him at a safe distance. While entering the building, she noticed every detail that she could, including his apartment number and floor level. Just in case she did want to see him again, on a not so creepy occasion. 

He had finally entered his apartment, and closed the door. She stood by the stairs, once she deemed it safe to be in the open, and looked at her phone. 

5:33 P.M. Perfect, she would wait until 5:38.

As time passed, she played a mental game with herself. Specifically, the Alphabet Game, but with favorite plants. 

Abelia schumannii

Bouvardia longiflora

Camellia chrysantha

Daphne odora....

Before Tillie knew it, five minutes had passed and she quickly gathered up all her courage and took one step towards the Spencer's door. One foot after another, and soon she was right there in front of it. She raised her fist, cursed herself once under her breath, and knocked on the door. Without realizing it, she held her breath in anticipation of Spencer's greeting. 

Hearing footsteps on the other side of the door, and after what seemed like forever, it opened. Spencer's eyes widened at the sight of the distraught, blonde female at the door of his apartment. She smiled at him, and sent a small wave. He immediately engulfed her into a warm embrace. One of his arms wrapped tightly around her waist, pulling her as close as she possibly could to him, the other around her shoulders, holding her to him. Like he was protecting her from any harm the world could throw at her. She sneaked her arms around his neck standing on her tip toes, holding him just as tight. He lift her up slightly, so he was supporting her solely. 

Squeezing her eyes shut, she whispered a soft, "I missed you so much." 

After pulling away, she noticed that Spencer wasn't in his normal button up and tie and slacks. No, he had changed into an old, burgundy knitted sweater, and some black sweatpants. He wasn't in his normal, professional attire, it was much more casual. It suited him.

"Would you like to come in? I can make us some tea, or coffee, even though it's getting sort of late." Spencer rambled quietly to her. She nodded and he moved out of her way, allowing her into his apartment. 

It was the same as last time she was here, or at least she didn't notice any changes. She followed Spencer into the kitchen sitting in one of his chairs. 

"I listened to all of your messages," Her voice broke a little. She didn't know why she felt so emotional, but she was exhausted and was giving up on containing all her negative feelings. "They meant a lot. I wish I could've listened to them when I was in rehab, but my phone was in a locker with all my things. They wanted us to have as little as possible distractions. But I listened to all of them, before I came here." 

Her lip trembled as she spoke. Looking down at her hands, away from him, she tried to conceal her embarrassment. 

"I'm so sorry, I can't believe this. I haven't seen you in two weeks, and I'm crying on your doorstep," she tries to laugh, shaking her head at herself. 

"Don't apologize. It's not your fault," He sits across from her chair, grabbing one of her hands, holding it in one of his own. "Want to talk about it?"

She looked up at him, quickly drying her face with her free hand. Smiling sadly, she shook her head no. It was silent in the apartment before she spoke up. 

"Your mother...You mentioned her in one of your voicemails...What's she like?"