.13
I answer the phone when I see it's Ron. Last night, when I got home and bathed - I realized I needed to throw myself back into Rotation, I couldn't be lazy anymore or not care. Although I didn't actually care yet, I figured if I did something that would make my life less sucky, I should, and maybe that would help.
So I answer when Ron's name pops up on my screen.
"Hello?" My voice is small and weak; I anticipate being yelled at.
"Chandler - what the hell?!" Ron yells, his loud tone making me move my phone a few centimeters away from my phone.
"I.. I'm sorry," I say lamely.
"Yeah, well - find another job. Don't bother coming back," He says, before the line clicks dead.
I guess I did this. That I deserve this. But I had been working at the fast food joint for almost five months, so it felt weird and funny.
I didn't have a job, and no way to pay rent. Shit.
I couldn't go back to my mom's place. And definitely not Charlie's. I could probably crash at Danny's, but she was still pissed at me.
I decide to text her a lame apology. Maybe she'll accept it and move on.
My phone starts ringing immediately. I expect it to be from Danny, but Zayn's name fills up my screen. Last night I had saved his number, and that weird feeling in my stomach resurfaces.
"Hello?" I ask, a little shy.
"Chandler." His kind, deep voice says. The feeling turns into hot liquid, his voice does weird things to me.
"Zayn," I imitate.
"What are you doing today?" He asks.
"Um, looking for a job?" It comes out as a question. I know I need to find one soon, and there's nothing like the present.
"Great. I'll be there in ten minutes," He replies before hanging up. I don't have a say in the matter, so I go along with it.
It almost makes me feel good - or something. That he wants to hang out with me, that he is interested.
But just as I think about it I remember what he said, how the look in my eyes imitated his mom's, right before she passed. What if I killed myself? What if something pushes me over the edge? What then?
I couldn't let myself think about it. If I did, I'd call Zayn back and not let him come. And last night he even said he chooses this, not me. That he already chose.
Before I can contemplate further, there's a knock on my door. How could Zayn get here that fast?
I'm still wearing PJs, but I figure that I could just invite Zayn in for a few minutes while I changed.
But when I open the door, it's not Zayn. It's my mom.
"What... what are you doing here?" I ask.
Her eyes are bloodshot and she's leaning against my doorframe, a lazy smile on her face. I can smell the alcohol from here. "I wa-wanted to..to see your home, silly!" She says, pushing past me, into the apartment. She sways when she walks and her arms are loose at her sides, as if she has no control over them.
"Mom, did you drive here?" I asked, almost nervous to hear her response. If she did, someone was bound to notice, and the cops could show up.
Mom flops down on my couch, spreading her arms out. "Course not! I walked."
Even better.
"Mom, it's 12 pm. Have you gone to sleep yet?"
"Stop b..ba....babying me! I'm fine." She laughs, as if this is funny.
