The Waiting

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"Stevie, are you hungry? I'll make you something" Karen offered gingerly. "Do you want tea, or maybe water?" I didn't respond at all, I was just staring in the direction of the window in my room, wrapped in blankets in my bed. "Stevie, you can't stay up here. Don't you want to go home?" I turned over, with slight difficulty, and stared at her. "We should call him, honey. I bet he's worried sick!"
I finally speak because she's making me angry. "If he cared, he would call. We have been here for 4 days now and he hasn't checked in once. If you care so much about him, you can call him. I'm done"
"You can't just give up. Like you said, that magazine prints crap all the time. What if it's not true?"
"But what if it is? What if I'm not enough for him?" I don't want to cry. My voice is wobbling and I feel my eyes starting to well up. "We have been fighting so much"
"It's expected. Emotions are high right now, but you always make up"
"What if--"
"Stop it, Stevie"
"I will not do this again" I said, turning back over to stare out the window again.
"I'm calling him"
"Go ahead. I don't care anymore" I close my eyes and try to sleep. When I open my eyes again, Karen is standing over me. "What?" I ask, grumpy as ever.
"He wants to talk to you"
"So?"
"He's still on the line. Pick up your phone"
"No"
"Be an adult and just pick up the goddamned phone" I reach out from under my covers, nowhere near the phone and she sighs, taking it off the hook and placing it in my hand. "Hello" I say, no warmth in my voice.
"Steph! Thank God! How are you?"
"Fine I guess"
"Good!"
"Why did you call? I'm trying to sleep"
"I'm sorry"
"Is it true?" I ask, scared of the response.
"Is what true?"
"Were you in LA after you told me you couldn't be here with me?" There is silence and I start to cry. "You asshole!"
"I'm sorry. Please, don't hang up" He knows me so well, I was definitely thinking about it as I eyed my bedside table where my phone sits.
"What could you possibly say that could make this any better?" I sit up in bed now and my arms are folded over my chest, sitting on top of my bump with the phone balanced between my shoulder and my ear.
"I saw your performance on tv. You were so great. You looked amazing"
"Thanks...but you're avoiding my question"
He sighs heavily. "There isn't. There is nothing I can say to make this better." he admits.
"Who is she?"
"I, she...she's my ex girlfriend"
"Which one?" I wait for a response. "You know what, never mind. I remember"
"Stephanie, I'm sorry"
"You messed up bad, Lindsey"
"I know I did. Please come home, I'd love to work on this, on us"
"Why were you here? Why were you with Bagel Bitch?"
Any other time he would have laughed at my name for the blonde but the intensity of this situation made him not even crack a smile. "She called me and told me it was urgent."
"Oh so you'd drive for hours to meet any girl who calls you and says she needs you? You're really digging yourself into a hole, Lindsey. It gets deeper and deeper every time you open your lying mouth"
"I can't tell you why. I just needed to see for myself"
"You can't just say 'I can't tell you why' and have me accept it. I'm hanging up now, Lindsey. If you come up with a better excuse I will be down here until further notice."
"Stephanie, please. Are you leaving me? I have to know."
"I, I don't know yet" I had said I was done, I said I don't care, I said so many things but I don't think I really thought about actually leaving. Him saying the words made me stumble a little and my heart broke all over again.
"Come home. I will do anything! Come home" He sounds desperate. "Come home, baby"
"Lindsey..."
"Please come home"
"Did you sleep with her when you were here?"
"No, of course not. I'm committed to you."
I don't speak for a long while, and part of me hopes he will hang up, thinking I'm already gone but when he doesn't, I decide to speak.
"I'll be there tonight, but it might be late"
"Thank you, oh my god, thank you. I love you, angel. I love you so much"
"Me too" I say, then hang up. "Karen!" I yell.
She runs up the stairs and comes to me in my room.
"Yes, Stevie? Did he explain?"
I shake my head. "I'm going home. I'm terrified."
"Why, what's going on?"
"He, he did meet up with her. He was in LA. He said she called him and said it was urgent. He came down here to see something for himself but he wouldn't say what it was. He said he couldn't tell me."
"And you're sure you want to go home?"
I nod. "I don't know what else to do. I told him I was going to stay here at first but...he was begging me to come home, Karen." I start sobbing and she holds me as close as she possibly can. "Let's get you calmed down, I will pack up your stuff and we can go." I nod over her shoulder and she pulls back. "Are you going to be okay?" She asks me. I nod again. I sit on my bed and cry until she tells me we can leave. I turn off all the lights and meet her in the car. This is going to be the longest drive of my life.

-----

It's not as late as I thought it would be when I got back to the big house. We drove straight through, I didn't need any extra time to think or cry. Lindsey walks up the road to meet me, his shirt has grease on it like he's been working on something and his hands are just as awful.
"I won't touch you, I've been messing with the car" he says, before saying anything else to me. He has a mix of guilt, regret and pure torture in his eyes. The car he is referring to is a car he bought a few months ago to restore to its former glory. He jokes it will be mine if I ever learn to drive. He still teases me to this day about the parking brake and loves to tell the story whenever he's with his friends. I follow him inside, one of my bags slung over my shoulder and he washes his hands violently, trying to get it all off. When he's finished he dries his hands off, changes his shirt and comes to kiss me but I turn my head so he gets my cheek. He half smiles at me, guessing I would do just that. "I missed you" he says. "Uh, let me take that bag from you. You shouldn't be carrying anything" He grabs it off my shoulder and puts it down on the counter.
"It's fine, it wasn't heavy at all" The silence is awkward. I take off my boots and sit cross legged on the floor between the couch and the coffee table. I start playing with the corner of one of my magazines, ruffling the pages, lifting it up to see the next page stick to it briefly then fall. It's all I can do to keep from looking into his eyes. If I do that, I know I will never get answers. If I do that, I know I will just forgive him and I won't have closure.

Again.

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