The Hourglass

Fifty-Two

I still couldn't comprehend what had happened. It's been two days, and I still haven't heard from Adam, despite my leaving a pathetic voicemail begging him to call me. I'd also sent a couple of apology texts and asked if we could talk but had gotten no response from him. 

It was Monday, so I unfortunately had to put on a brave face to attend my Zoom meeting this morning. I was contemplating whether I should keep my job now or not. Were Adam and I broken up? Or was he just upset and needed some space before we could make up? Surely he would come to realize I hadn't been faking my feelings for him this entire time...right?

I did my best to focus on the job at hand before me. Whether I was keeping the job or not was still on the table, but today I was still employed and needed to take care of my responsibilities. I welcomed the work on my plate and tried to use it to the best of my ability as a distraction. Before I knew it, I had finished my tasks and was able to log off. 

Now what? 

I had already cleaned up the mess Adam had made in the bedroom. I was a little surprised and disappointed when the hourglass didn't magically reappear after Adam had broken it. Did that mean the job was truly done? Or worse...had I somehow failed? 

I knew I would hear from the girls at work if word of Adam's death were going around, so I tried not to panic about it. But why hadn't a new one appeared? If the old one had never disappeared on its own, that meant I was still working on the assignment, right? I can only assume I messed things up so badly that God didn't trust me to fix them. 

I blamed myself for this. I was never supposed to fall in love with Adam. I was never supposed to get this close to him. I was supposed to make a difference in his life and boy had I. I had messed it up royally. 

I had already spent the past two days bawling my eyes out. I wasn't sure I could tolerate crying in front of the television again tonight. I decide to call Chelsea. I still hadn't told her - or my dad, for that matter. 

"Hey, girl, what's up?" she answers. 

"I think Adam and I broke up," I say, holding back tears. 

I knew a part of her wanted to say she told me so, but the better part of her was in control. "Honey, I'm so sorry," she says. And I actually kind of believe her. "I'd ask if you're okay, but that's probably a dumb question, right?" 

I chuckle. "Yeah, a bit." 

"Do you want me to come over?" She offers. 

"Actually, can we go do something? I've been holed up in the apartment crying for the past two days, and I just really need to go do something," I plead. 

"Okay," she says, trying to think. "I mean, it's a Monday, so I don't really know what you want to do. Got any ideas?" she asks. 

I didn't. I was kind of hoping she did. "I don't know. Want to do some retail therapy? That always works for you." 

"Yeah, but this is about you, and you hate shopping," she reminds me. 

"I could use a new wardrobe. I've worn the same things for years." I knew I only wanted to make the change because I was hurting. But it was better than chopping off all of my hair or getting drunk and giving away my virginity. 

"I mean, you're not wrong," she laughs. "If you really feel up for it I can swing by and pick you up on the way," she offers. 

"That would be great." 

                                                                     ************************************

"So what happened?" she asks as I climb into the car, and she hugs me. Crap. This was the part I didn't even consider. Chelsea was going to want to know what happened, but I couldn't tell her the truth. What was I going to say? 

"Things are complicated with his dad," I finally say. I would do my best to pin it on him. 

"How do you mean?" she asks. 

"He doesn't approve of me," I explain. That much was true at least. 

"So Adam just dumped you because his daddy doesn't approve of you?" I sigh inwardly. This was what I didn't want to happen. I didn't want Chelsea to blame and hate Adam. Especially when this was all my fault. 

"No," I say, wanting to defend him. "But we got into an argument about it. I said some things I shouldn't have, and he stormed off. He won't return my calls or texts." That was kind of the truth, minus the major chunk. 

"What could you have said to make him so angry?" she questions. I want to punch myself at this point. Why do people lie? It's a pain in the butt. 

"I don't want to talk about it right now," I say, defeated. Chelsea eyes me for a minute but lets it go, and I'm thankful. 

Chelsea pulls into the mall parking lot, and I'm hit with a slight sense of deja vu. "So, are you still talking to the bartender?" I ask her, trying to keep the conversation off of me. 

She smiles. "Yes." 

I turn to her, feeling actual happiness for the first time since my fight with Adam. "Chelsea, that's great. You must really like him," I tease, and she rolls her eyes at me. 

"So, where do you want to shop?" she asks.

"I want a makeover," I tell her, determined. "Let's look at everything." 

Chelsea's eyes widen as she observes me, but she doesn't say what she thinks. "Okay, champ." 

We spend several hours at the mall trying on all sorts of different outfits. I try on very girly things and very edgy things. I stay away from anything I would normally buy and try on everything I normally wouldn't. By the time we're done, I've left the mall with an entirely new wardrobe.