Change | E.D

Twenty Seven

Charlotte

"Char." Annie says to me the next night as she watches me make a fool out of myself eating cookie dough like a half-starved barbarian. I'm tearing into the raw roll of food like nobody's business and I don't even care.

I already made a complete ass out of myself today; why not just add fuel to the fire? Today's my looking-like-an-ass day. All I have left to do is go to some sporting event and run across the field naked.  

I don't look up at her, too embarrassed to see the grossed-out expression in her eyes, but I stop attacking the cookie dough like a crazed-person. I move the half-gone roll away from my mouth and say hesitantly, "Yes?"  

She says, "First of all, that cookie dough can kill you. Ever hear of salmonella?"

I say wryly, "Dying wouldn't be too bad after the month I've had." 

In response she slaps me across the back of my head and when I go to cry out in pain, she says, "Char, I know you've had a terrible month, but that gives you no excuse to talk about dying that way. Acting like it's some kind of savior...what the hell is wrong with you?"  

"Today? A lot," I mumble, discreetly moving my hand to the back of my head to rub against the place she hit me. Annie may be a calm little thing, but good God does she pack a punch.  

She says, "Which brings me to my second point. What happened today? You disappeared right after lunch, come back an hour later with tears running down your face, and then take a two-hour bubble bath. When you come out, you magically have a thing of cookie dough and look like a corpse."  

I go to take another bite of the cookie dough, but before I can even place its deliciousness on my lips, I feel Annie rip it out of my grasp. I gasp, not able to believe that she's done something so mean to me when I've had such a day, and then turn around and yell, "Give it back!"  

"No, you eating raw cookie dough is disgusting," she says before turning over her shoulder and then dropping my half-eaten roll of cookie of dough in to the garbage can.

Right as feel my insides start to weep at the sadness of the loss, she sits on the back of the sofa and says, " Char, you've known me for a while, and I never ask you to tell me anything. But for some reason, I feel as if you've done something wrong today and I want to know what it is. What did you do?"  

"I didn't do anything," I mumble, turning away from her and planting my gaze onto the blank TV in front of me.

I feel her hand on my shoulder and hear her say, "Really? That's why Ethan is outside wanting to talk to you?"  

"What?!" I demand, whirling around and glaring at the front door as if it's some evil witch demon. He's not here, is he? I never heard the door bell, never heard a knock at the front door. I mean, maybe I was so busy tearing into my food...but still! I would have heard someone at the front door, I think.  

She says, "He came earlier actually, right when you disappeared into the bathroom, and when an hour passed he got this awful expression on his face and then left, saying he'd come back. He's back now."  

My insides are flipping over themselves right now, so many emotions running rampant through my head that it's almost making me dizzy. What the hell am I supposed to do? I told him not to talk to me, not to contact me, because in doing so it would make getting over him so much easier.

And I know that that tip was completely correct, because his being here and wanting to talk to me is making me feel for him and that is something that is not okay. I don't want to feel anything for him; I want him to be like a complete stranger. That's all I want.