It's Complicated

Chapter 4: Travis Stanton

“Hello?” I say into the home phone, picking it up on the first ring. I’ve been waiting for Kacey’s call all night.

“Hello. This is a toll free call that could qualify you—” the monotone voice recites before I hang up the phone. I grumble under my breath. It was just yesterday that I had left her at that doctor’s office, and I still haven’t heard from her. And when I buzzed her at her apartment, she said she wasn’t going to school today, and she would call me later.

I am sitting in my room on my bed. It’s a pretty big room, sporting a king-size bed with black and red covers, a wood and glass desk with my new laptop sitting on it next to the window, a 40-inch flat screen hanging on the wall opposite my bed, a bookcase with all my favorite books and movies next to that, and a dresser with nine drawers next to the door. Unlike most guys my age, I keep my room pretty clean. The window off to the side of my bed gives me an excellent view of the woods behind and beside our house. My room is on the second floor of our house. My mom and dad work in real estate, so we always have a little money to spare. But, it also means that they have to leave on extended business trips all the time.

Sometimes, when I think about my house and family, I wonder about Kacey’s family. I’ve never met her parents, or even seen the inside of her apartment. I’ve only ever seen the outside. She is always so secretive when it comes to her family, never revealing too many details.

My cell phone rings, and before the first ring is through, I have already picked up the phone, not bothering to look at the caller ID.

“Hello?” I speak into the receiver.

“Travis?” a familiar voice asks.

“Kacey?” I ask in return.

She giggles a little. “Yeah. It’s me. I’m sorry I didn’t call sooner.”

“No, it’s okay.” I assure her. “What happened yesterday?”

“Well,” she says. “As it turns out, I have a little infection, but I got antibiotics for it.” I sigh after the last part, relieved she is going to be okay.

“That’s good.” I say. I lay down on my back and stare up at the ceiling, my eyes skimming the familiar shapes formed in the "popcorn" ceiling.

“Yeah. But there must be something in the antibiotics that knocked me out. I slept in until one o’ clock in the afternoon today!” she laughs. Listening to her talk, I can hear in her voice how tired she is. The way she is trying not to slur her words, but she does occasionally, and her voice has that groggy sound to it.

“But on the bright side,” she continues. “My arm doesn’t hurt near as much anymore.”

“That’s great!” I exclaim. “Are you going to school tomorrow? Should I come pick you up?”

“I don’t know yet,” she says. “It all depends. Don’t worry about me tomorrow. I’ll get a ride from someone else if I decide to go.” As she says the last word, her voice trails off and turns into a yawn. I realize how hard it must be for her to stay up and talk with me.

“I guess I’ll let you go so you can rest up,” I say calmly. She yawns again, and I am sure she is nodding her head. “I’ll see you soon.” I assure her.

“Yeah,” she says. “Bye Travis.”

“Bye Kacey.” I don’t hang up the phone until I hear the phone beeping seconds after she disconnected.

The phone rings again as soon as I put it down. I quickly pick it up and say, “Hello?” I'm almost expecting it to be Kacey's voice on the other side, telling me she forgot something.

“Hey, Travis!” a different voice answers. “It’s your cousin, Erica.”

“Oh! Hey Erica!” I exclaim, slightly disappointed. But, the disappointment quickly fades away. Erica and I used to be very close. But, when my family moved here, we sort-of drifted apart. It has been weeks since we last talked, when she called to tell us she was getting married to her boyfriend (now fiancé), Jason. “What’s up?” I ask casually.

“Well,” she says. “Jason and I are passing through town tomorrow, so we were wondering if maybe you would want to tag along with us after you got out of school. We could hang out like the old days.”

I laugh, remembering those days. She may have eight years on me, but we still had fun, even when I was eight and she was sixteen. She always made me feel like I was a part of the "big kid stuff" when we hung out. "Yeah, that sounds great!” I say, excited. “Pick me up at three?”

“Wait, you don’t have to ask your parents anymore?” she asks, obviously puzzled.

“No. They had to leave town for work, so I’ll be on my own until late Sunday night.” Not counting today, I have five more days of freedom. If you consider freedom staying up an extra hour every night and eating ice cream in my room. I was never much of a rebel.

“How are you getting to school without a bus or your parents?” she asks.

“I have my license now, so I can drive myself,” I explain. I swear we had this conversation the last time we talked.

“Man, I feel old. I still remember when you were in diapers. And now, here you are, driving already.” And this was exactly where the conversation went last time.

“Yeah, I don't remember much of those days,” I chuckle. “So, three o’ clock?”

“Sounds great!” she says, probably just as excited as I am. It will be nice to hang out again. “I’ll see you then!”

“Alright,” I say. “Bye!”

“Bye,” she says, and we both hang up the phone.