More Than Just a Memory

Chapter 12

You know those commercials for medicines like Humira and stuff where they start out with the actor saying something along the lines of, "I was having a hard time dealing with my moderate to severe blah, blah, blah"? I never understood why they included the "moderate to severe" part. Like, each individual has either moderate or severe symptoms. Not a range of both. When I woke up the next morning, I felt the pain in waves— moderate to severe— and cynically chuckled at me being in a commercial for a medicine like that. "Hi, I was having a hard time coping with my moderate to severe emotions, until ___ came along." The problem was, I didn't know what to do about the blank. My best friend lived in another country, my parents were thousands of miles away in sunny Florida, and I had no real friends in Seattle. Sure, I had my works friends, but that was all they were: work friends. They were enjoyable to talk to at the office, sometimes we went to each other's homes for a meal or maybe we'd run out at grab a coffee (yes, I see the irony in what I just said, but it's Seattle; it seems like there is a law made that there has to be a Starbucks on every block and it was nice to get out and stretch our legs), but that would be about it. Plus, there was a certain twinge of embarrassment that came along with Mark's actions. I know that I shouldn't have been ashamed of myself because I had done nothing wrong, but he made me wonder what was so wrong with me that he felt like he had to go find someone else. On top of that embarrassment, I felt wounded; I had never raged the with the intensity of the previous night, and in retrospect, my own actions terrified me in a way.

And then reason kicked in. I had physically forced Mark out of the apartment in his underwear. Which lead me to wonder what he had done once he realized that I wasn't coming back to get the door for him, considering that wasn't exactly socially acceptable public attire. I snuck over to the door and lifted my eye up to the peep-hole. There he was, lying on the ground right outside the door, asleep. Just seeing his gorgeous face made me furious. I had a few options here: a) open the door really, really hard so that it delivered a blow to his gut, b) throw all of his stuff into a suitcase and leave it outside the door for him, c) invite him back in to get his things himself, or d) completely forgive him. Option D was not even a possibility, and as tempted as I felt, Option A seemed a bit too harsh. In the end, Option C won my favor. The last thing I wanted to do at the time was touch anything that he had touched. So, I opened the door (lightly) so as to wake him without having to say his name. His eyes shot open and he pounced on the door mere seconds after his arrival back to consciousness. He stood in front of me, scratch marks and all, with a mask of false sincerity in his face. I took a few quick steps back, rolled back my shoulders, and turned my nose upwards.

"Hun, please, give me—" he began, but I wasn't going to give him the time of day.

"Uh-uhn. No, no, no. Don't you 'hun' me, boy. Do you see the cliché in this situation right now, or are you oblivious?" I asked, shaking my head all the while. "I'm being very gracious with you right now, so listen up and I won't attempt to murder you, okay? You will have exactly twenty minutes to collect what you own from this place and remove yourself. I'm sure that Katrina would have absolutely no objections to housing you."

With that, I walked towards the couch to watch television. At first, he followed me, making failed attempts at "calling me to my senses". To each time he addressed me, I didn't even look at him as I said, "The clock is ticking." Finally, he gave up, and that's all I needed to show me that I was making the right decision. If he really did love me, he wouldn't let me go so quickly. But, I guess I was already a thing of the past for him, and I didn't want to change that at all. Okay, maybe a little, but can you blame a girl? He was living perfection, or so I thought he was, and he had held my heart in the palm of his hand for so long; for him to just drop it carelessly was immeasurably demoralizing.

I thought that when I saw Mark walking out the door forever, a weight would be lifted from my shoulders. Instead, quite the opposite occurred. I felt as though I had been hollowed out and filled with cement, and moving was practically impossible. Not having anybody that could share a physical presence with me made the situation that much more difficult to cope with. I reached for my phone to call my mom, but she didn't pick up. Neither did my dad. I guess you're schedule can be pretty full when you're retired. Then I called Tori, and was greeted with her pleasant voice... mail. Dropping my phone on my face in defeat, I sighed as I laid there on the couch. Then I got an idea. No, that's stupid. He would never.

But he might.

I debated the unthinkable for quite sometime. Finally, I caved into the little Shia LeBeouf in my head screaming, "JUST DO IT!" I sat up, hit dial, and pressed the phone to my ear. My stomach churned with nervousness as the line rang... and rang... and rang. I was close to giving up when I heard that familiar voice.

"You have no idea how long I have been waiting for this phone call to happen," Calum said immediately after answering.

*a/n: Holy shizz 1k reads!!!!! Thank you all so much for reading and voting and commenting. Keep doing what you're doing and I really hope that you like the story so far! There's so much more ahead for the characters. On another note, SOUNDS GOOD FEELS GOOD IN THREE DAYS I CANT EVEN! If you haven't pre-ordered, I highly suggest it, and you get JBH, SKH, Money, Fly Away, and the newest single from the album, Hey Everybody!, automatically downloaded. Lol, look at me being all promoting and stuff:) Once again, thanks for all of your support, I love you guys! xoxo, Liv*