Life Lost and Found

4: "That Night"

Later That Afternoon

Madeline wiped sweat from her forehead. She stood in front of the door, where she had been for some time now, her back rigid and her jaw clenched. Her trembling finger hovered dangerously close to the glowing, faux-ivory doorbell. She wasn't breathing. Her lips tightened with every passing second until they became a thin line on her reddening face.

She released the breath she was holding and spun sharply on her heel. "Nope. Every single kind of nope."

She made for her bike, which was leaning against a tree in the front yard. The ride to Mark's house had been fraught with vivid imaginings of all the ways this was going to go terribly, terribly wrong. In fact, this was her second visit. She had come earlier, chickened out, left, and returned. Now it was just after four thirty in the afternoon, and she was turning away from the door for a second time.

But she was back a moment later, finger hovering over the doorbell once again. "Okay, Madeline, you can do this. Probably. Well, maybe. No—I mean, you really can." She huffed impatiently. "Come on!"

But she yanked her finger away from the doorbell like she had been bitten by a small animal. "I can't! Can't do it. I'll try again tomorrow. Yes, tomorrow. Better plan. Procrastinate now, don't delay!"

She turned, walked down the steps, and proceeded across the well-tended front yard. She made it exactly ten paces before she was back at the door, yet again, her finger placed just over the bell.

And then the door opened.

What? Why? She hadn't even pressed the button. Also, Mark was standing in the entrance, grinning at her. "The doorbell's not broken, is it?"

"Ummm..." She froze mid-um. Words. Say words, Madeline. Or just stand there and blink at him. Whatever. The awkward way is fine too. Abject mortification, also good.

Mark continued to grin. "I mean, you've been out here for a while now and I haven't heard it ring."

Which meant he'd been watching her. Watching the back and forth. Yeah, good. Great. Um. SAY WORDS, YOU IDIOT!

"It's okay, I'm only teasing," Mark consoled her. "Should you... be breathing right now?"

"I..." she squeaked. "Yes."

And then, inexplicably, he opened the door wider, inviting her in. "Hey, why don't you come in? Let me get you a drink or something."

Madeline hesitated. Go into his house? Because if she was embarrassing herself this much on the porch, just imagine the possibilities while trapped inside! No, entering his home was an indisputably bad idea. Which, of course, meant that's exactly what she did.

OH GOSH, WHY?

"Follow me. Let's go out back." Mark began leading her though a spacious and well-decorated living room. It was a nice place. Way nicer than hers. Opposite end of the spectrum, really.

Even though her brain was beginning to suffer from a lack of oxygen—or, maybe because it was suffering from a lack of oxygen—she followed him to the back deck, where he left her next to a long porch swing under a vine-covered trellis. "Hold on. I'll be right back."

Thank the stars in heaven! She exhaled the moment he disappeared inside. Then she stomped her feet and flailed her arms in frustration while she gasped for air. What was going on? This was supposed to be easy! She would ring the doorbell. He would answer. She would say, "Mark, I wanted to thank you for fixing my necklace and returning it and for not talking to your friends about my psychotic break at the party. Okaythanksbye!" And, scene. See? Easy.