Maybe Then...

Chapter 46: if I weren't sleep deprived

If I weren't sleep deprived,

And had the energy to think before acting,

Maybe then, the night wouldn't have turned out like this

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The thought of how Haley ignored me the other night kept nagging at me ever since. I kept trying to convince myself that there was some sort of misunderstanding, that she wasn't ignoring me. Trying to scrounge up even the most pitiful excuse or explanation that I could force myself to believe. I didn't understand! One part of my life was going so well, and it was getting even better. The other part of my life, however, was not, and I felt guilty for letting it get me down when I should be nothing but grateful. 

I keep trying to rekindle the past, hoping that if I reconnect with it, I'll become the girl again who had a simple, quiet life going for her, who was living life happily and openly. The girl who didn't have so many worries. The girl who was just a little more innocent...

There's a fine line between naivety and innocence, and I had to realize that when all hopes of there being a misunderstanding were crushed, leaving me staring distraughtly at a phone screen, the message on it being scanned countless times by my eyes. I kept trying to see some sort of word I missed, something in between the lines that I didn't catch on to the first few times. But there was no mistake, no mix up, it was written plain as day. 

Haley: you know, I don't understand why you keep messaging me when you have other friends now? get on with your life. you know what happens when people move. they stop being friends. just let it happen, you know it will. 

There had to be something, anything I was missing. But there wasn't; there was no hidden message, no mixed signals, nothing. She was flat out saying that I needed to let go of the past. That I needed to let go. 

Every time I read it over, again and again, my chest grew heavier with something I couldn't identify. 

"Millie, you need to eat some lunch! It's past 1:00 already!" Dan called. 

I swallowed a lump in my throat, taking a deep breath to get rid of the urge to cry. "I already ate," I called back. Yeah, I already ate breakfast. 

I listened nervously for his reply, worried that he'd press further on the issue. I let out a breath I didn't know I was holding in when he called back, "Okay." 

The relief that fed my stomach quickly subsided, turning instead into a big bottle of flavorful, carbonated guilt. 

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It was 1:02 a.m., my stomach rumbling from skipping lunch and eating very little dinner. As odd as it was, I found a sense of control from the hollow feeling in my gut. I was scrolling through a random WikiHow article describing different ways to play M.A.S.H., when a message popped onto my screen. 

stranger: summers almost over. up for a taco bell night oe last time before we have to try and sleep okay? 

Me: sure, wht time? 

stranger: now of course. on my way k?

Me: meet me two houses away from my house, I don't want ur lights to wake my fam up. 

I quietly slipped my socks and shoes on, put on my jean jacket (it was starting to get chillier at night), and felt my way through the dark house and out the door. I shuffled down the porch, making long strides over to the house two doors down. After few minutes of tapping my foot and flapping my arms to a song stuck in my head, the familiar, beat up vehicle pulled up in front of me.