farewell (18+)

39. Screwing (Up)

"Max, I'm really, really sorry," I said. "Come on, you can't break up with me over some heated argument. What we have is so beautiful... Baby, please, pick up."

There was only silence at the other end. I was getting sick of talking to Max's voicemail system, but I wouldn't give up just yet. He had to listen to reason.

Who was I kidding? I hadn't heard the sound of his voice since I came home a week and a half ago. I wouldn't even know if he was alive had it not been for Rodrigo, who kept updating me. Apparently, he had been working late several evenings, and I feared that he might be screwing that French teacher to get over me. Rodrigo said he wasn't sleeping out, but I wouldn't rush to feel optimistic about it. Look where it had gotten me.

But I could endure his silence for only so long. My determination was starting to wear thin. I was freaking out over not having him anymore, or worse, not being sure where we stood. I knew that pushing him like this wouldn't help, that I should give him space, but I couldn't get over the thought of him moving on while I waited.

I spent the afternoon crying under a blanket, trying to get distracted by silly movies, but at this point, I don't think anything would have done the trick. I was feeling the loneliest in my life with Vlad away and Wil having a girlfriend against all odds. I thought I had gone dry when evening came. My eyes burned, but the sobs wouldn't stop. There was a dull ache in my chest, a heavy feeling as if someone had dropped weight over it, and I was struggling to breathe. I decided to close my eyes for a minute to give them some rest. Only then did I realize how tired I was feeling, both physically and emotionally.

***

Someone knocked on my door, and I jumped awake. The clock on the TV hack said it was past ten now. I sat up, rubbing my sore eyes. At this time, it could only be Wil; Vlad had given him his keys before leaving, but he never came in without announcing himself. And after Max had broken things off with me, Wil always came by to check if I was eating, often bringing comfort food with him.

Another knock, then the doorbell rang. It wasn't Wil.

I got up lazily, shuffling along the cool tiled floor. I swung the door open, taking a second to look up at my visitor. Vlad was standing in the hall, backpack and suitcase at hand. He had come straight to me. The first things I noticed were his bloodshot eyes and how ungroomed he looked.

I crashed against his body, the familiar mix of Axe Body Spray, cigarettes, and whiskey soothing me. "Oh, my God. Is it the 5th already?"

"Yes." He circled his arms around me. "What happened, baby? You look like you've been crying for hours."

"More like days." I sniffed, urging him in. "Come, sit. I wanna hear everything about the tour."

"Anna, what happened?"

"No..." I waved it off, guiding him to the couch. "We can deal with that later. I need the distraction."

"Are you sure?" He sat by my side, his face a sheer picture of worry.

"Yes. Tell me everything..." I sighed, smiling for the first time in weeks. "God, I missed you so much."

"Me too. You have no idea."

We hugged again, his fingers stroking the back of my head, then he started to fill me in on his adventures. They had done so many crazy things I was surprised they hadn't gotten themselves arrested or killed. He told me all about how Leif Hanson had taken him under his wing, and the endless pranks both bands pulled on one another; that they got a record deal with Rotten Apple's label and they wanted them to move to the US. Oh, and the countless groupies and fans...