Tommy Sallow is onto better and brighter things. After working a small hometown beat in upstate New York, he's finally in sunny California. As expected, it's the same shit in a different town. Except, you know, now he's near the ocean and miserable...
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I'm standing at Amber's door, feeling out of sorts over seeing her tonight and with a nice throbbing pain shooting from my eye to complicate things. A fresh shiner, courtesy of one violent, drunk asshole who refused to leave the establishment last night. As if I didn't have enough to worry about.
I swear, the drunks in this town love to fucking fist fight and I'm getting too old for the bullshit. But you know what, the pain in my eye hardly compares to the other matter at hand here.
I hate that I'm feeling out of sorts. I hate that I feel like I've been in the way, bothering her and pulling responses from her like I'm yanking wisdom teeth. I hate that I'm tempted to feel like maybe I shouldn't even be here, although I was invited over to this housewarming dinner before whatever happened with her ever happened.
What happened with her, you ask? Haven't the slightest clue. But she's been pushing me away all week and I don't care for the havoc it's wreaking on my gut.
It started before I even got back from Arizona. We'd been exchanging texts for most of the day on Sunday. It was going well. She'd sent me photos of Mia and Stella that swelled my heart about a thousand sizes. But it was the selfie of all three of them that did me in. I wanted to burst at how happy they all looked.
Monday was near radio silence. I tried not to read into it too much, knowing she was busy at work and that she'd check in after, which she did. But there was no spirit in her words, none of her usual emojis, and it was basically just a quick hey,your dog's fine note. No asking me how my day was or telling me about hers. I felt like a fool, yearning for a puppy emoticon or a smiley face like a twelve year old girl. Something with a little feeling in it.
By the time I got back late that night and went to her house to pick up Stella, it was nearly one in the morning. She was half asleep, I was exhausted, the dog was going nuts, and the last thing on either of our minds was exchanging an overabundance of pleasantries. So, I went on my way. Only to get back home to a text from her saying she wouldn't be able to meet up on the beach for tacos the next day. Couldn't even bother to tell me in person when I'd just been there.
I initiated all the texts after that for the rest of the week, dying to stay connected and prying interactions like some desperate chump. And now, I feel like a moron, standing at her door and hesitating to knock because I'm too chicken shit to face her after the last few days of weirdness.
"You gonna knock there, Tommy? Or shall I?"
Ed's deep chuckle rumbles behind me, effectively bringing me back to reality as Amelia steps up beside me with a bright grin.
"Fancy meeting you here," she says, even though she was the one who invited me. As she gets a look at my face, she grimaces at the bruised eye. "Oh my, should I even ask?"
"I'd rather you didn't," I tell her with a small laugh as I try and divert the attention from my eye, switching on a warm greeting. "Good to see you, Amelia." I turn to Ed with a tip of my chin. "Ed. How are you?"
