I don't leave my room until I hear the door of Jamison's car slam. Then, ever so carefully, I push the dresser away from my door. I slowly unlock my door and take a breath. I turn the knob, my heart beating wildly inside my chest. It's okay Brit, my brain comforts, he's gone now. You can come out.
Amy follows me as I exit my room. She doesn't really float like in the ghost stories. She walks like everyone else, it's just that she's more graceful. Like, extremely graceful. The exact opposite of Human Amy. Human Amy was the clumsiest person on the face of the earth. Give her a flat surface and no shoes? She'd trip and land flat on her face.
My stomach churns.
I awkwardly make my way into the kitchen. I rustle through cabinets in a bored fashion. Food really hasn't interested me that much since the accident. I pull out a bag of donuts and check to make sure they're soft. I poke them a couple of times before I assure myself that they're safe to eat. I take two from the bag before putting it back up where I found it. I'm halfway into the living room before I decide to turn back and put the donuts up in my room. Jamison will scarf down anything he can get his hands on.
The phone rings from somewhere in the living room. I shove my hands between cushions in a failed attempt to see where Jamison put it. By the time I find it tucked underneath Davidson, our huge white dog, it's hit voice mail. I dial star nine nine and wait to connect.
You have one new message. To listen to your message, press-
I press the one button before the lady finishes. I've never liked her automated voice.
"Um. Hi. This is Jon."
I feel myself get queasy as I hear his name. My boyfriend's name.
"So, I'm calling for Brit. Uh, well, your phone is off again and you're voice mail is full."
No surprise there. I almost never answer my cell. And the message box is full because of everyone from school asking me to parties and whatnot. I don't delete them. I don't know why, but I just don't. I feel sick whenever I try. At the very start of the messages, however, is one I always replayed after the accident. One from Amy, calling over to tell me that she was coming over to watch Titanic. The night she was abducted.
"So, you know, I figured I'd call here. No luck."
Obviously.
"Well, Brit, call me back. Okay? Okay. Bye."
End of message. To erase this message, press-
I smash my finger so hard into seven that my nail breaks.
Message deleted. No new messages.
I press end.
Slowly, I put the white phone back on the table. I collapse onto the old and worn out couch behind me. I turn my eyes to the sparkling Christmas tree that sits in the corner of the room. It casts sparkly lights and deformed shadows everywhere. My living room is like a mystic yet modern fairytale dream.
I tilt my head back and watch the lights flicker on the ceiling. I slowly breathe and attempt to clear my head. Jon and I have been together since the last day of eighth grade. Amy always used to make jokes about us becoming the high school sweethearts that got married someday. And I kind of believed her. It was Amy that got us together. It was Amy that quite literally forced out heads together at junior high graduation in front of the whole school. Initially, I had been mortified. Not only had I had a crush on him since fifth grade, but that was my first kiss. However, I later came to enjoy the idea that I definitely had a lasting impression with that kiss.
Jon was the one that called to inform me that Amy was missing and that the police had just left his house. He'd told them that Amy and I were best friends and so naturally they had to ask me questions. Right after the inccident, when I was so devastated that I was home sick for a week, he would come by with little boxes of chocolate and even do my homework for me so I wouldn't have to. But I drifted apart from him about a month after the accident. He never told me it was over.
He believes we can still pull this relationship through.
He's too good for me.
