Imperfect | est. 2015

34. The Wooden Chair

As soon as we got back to my house, Addison hadn't said a word. She knew not to. She just watched me pace my living room with a look of puzzlement. Why would something so unusual be bothering Connor so badly? As if I was supposed to act like that kiss meant the world to me, I didn't even expect it to happen in the first place.

Why would it even matter?

And I set my hands on my forehead... he still had no idea about what had happened since he'd been gone.

And after a few minutes, Addison left to the kitchen. She tried to get herself a glass of water and start a conversation to get my mind off of things, but she didn't know how much it actually made things worse, "He still doesn't know?" She asks me, scrambling through my cabinets for the glasses.

"I never had the chance to tell him." I muttered, glancing around the living room and trying to mellow myself out a little. But all it did was make me think more than I wanted to. I saw the little wooden chair in the corner of the room that had the sunset lighting beaming over it. And all it did was remind me of my grandmother. She would sit in it all the time. And every time I came home from a situation like then, she would have something wise to say and I would manage to feel better.

But the chair was empty. For the first time in forever, I'd actually noticed it.

And without thinking, I stepped closer to it and completely lost track in thought. But Addison was still trying to talk to me, "Maybe if he knew, he would act a little differently."

And all I had the energy to do was squint, "But that's the thing," I said, not taking my eyes off of the chair, "I don't want him to forgive me just because he pities me."

She pauses while I could hear her fill the glass with water, "I don't know what else could work," she says, making her way towards me, "you can't just let him avoid you forever."

And I shook my head.
I wanted it to just be forgotten. I wanted to go back, completely forget about that stupid moment and be able to go on the trip to Washington. It's all I wanted, at that point.

But, the dumb part, was I didn't feel like fighting for it.

***

I sat there on the sofa, staring at that chair like I had been for hours.
My phone was in my lap, and I was waiting for the screen to light up with a call from Connor. Anything.
I just wanted to know what he could've possible been thinking.
He would always tell me what he'd done that day. He would always tell me the random things that came to mind at the moment he thought of them. Now it was just silence.
And I couldn't adjust to that.

But I'd sat back and cleared my head a little bit.

"You're an idiot." I laughed, watching Connor try to mess with his Dad's car wires.
I sat in the passenger seat and made sure neither of his parents caught him doing what he was trying to do.
He had the driver's door open while he lied half on the floor and faced towards the bottom of the steering wheel. He had only a pair of pliers and a phone to his ear. He was getting instructions on how to wire a car from some abnormally geeky kid from school.
And every time he made some stereotypically, nasally noise over the line, we both tried our best not to laugh.
He was telling him what wires he shouldn't cut or disconnect and trying to get him to send photos of the process as he moved through it.
And I didn't even get the point of it, "Why are you doing this, anyway? You can't drive."

"I can in a couple years." He mutters and holds his pliers between his teeth while he twists some random wire around another one.
If anything, he was probably going to accidentally set off the airbags and break my nose.