Why the hell would a cell phone store in a major suburban city close at 4 p.m. on a Friday? And they don’t reopen until 11 tomorrow? Of course.
I was stupid and never turned on the auto backup feature on my phone, so even online, I do not have Stella’s new cell phone number.
I’m frantically typing every password I’ve ever used into my laptop, hoping one of them unlocks my social media accounts.
One wants me to enter the verification code sent to my cell phone, while the other locks me out for an hour due to excessive attempts.
Fuck.What the hell do I do? The last thing I want is for her to think I’m ghosting her.
In a last-ditch, fully unhinged move, I log into my email and type up a message to the address she used in high school. I have no clue if she still checks it. But that's all I’ve got.
From:[email protected]
Subject: My phone broke
Stella, today was a total mess without you. I caught a rogue ball to the face in class.
Yeah, you read that right, and it knocked my phone straight to the floor. Dead.
I went straight to the store after practice, but of course, they closed early. I’m heading back as soon as they open in the morning.
I really hope you still use this email. I just… I don’t want you thinking I’m ignoring you.
Missing you like hell.
All my love, D
After sending the email, there isn’t much I can do, so I take a quick shower. Once finished, I head downstairs and grab the plate of food my stepmom left out for me. I heat it up and relish in the home-cooked meal that I desperately missed while at college.
My dad walks into the room holding Layla, my 10-month-old sister. Seeing my dad happy again is everything to me. He was a great father growing up, and it hurt to see him immerse himself so deeply in work. But it was the only thing he knew how to do when my mom left.
Layla reaches for me, and I take her from my dad, lifting and hugging her to my chest. I really hope this is in the future for Stella and me. She would be wonderful with our children.
“Hey, son. I wasn’t expecting you home tonight. You moved home and then disappeared.” He looks at me with his lifted eyebrow, which means I know something is going on, so you might as well just tell me.
“Sorry, Dad. I should have told you and Vanessa I wasn’t going to be around much for a couple of weeks.” I say to him, in between kissing Layla’s chubby cheeks.
“Hmm,” is all he says as he stares at me.
“Uh, well, actually I will be here for two weeks, and out most nights for two weeks, until at least January.” He looks me dead in the eyes and blinks. This was always his tactic. He knows I’m a nervous talker. If I were ever in a hostage situation being interrogated, they would just need to stay quiet, and I would spill the beans.
“Well, at the start of the school year, I ran into Stella Carrington—my old girlfriend.” I hand my sister back to him so he can start giving her the bottle he's holding. “You mean the girl who literally ripped your heart in two and never looked back? Donovan Slate D’Angelo. Come on. You were a wreck for weeks, and honestly, I am not sure whether you ever got over her. Are you sure this is a good idea?” His questions are valid.
He tried everything to help heal my broken heart, and nothing worked. Not even college and a full roster of jersey chasers could help me get over her. You know that saying, the best way to get over someone is to get under someone else? Yeah, no. False. I tested that theory a lot.
“Thanks for your concern, old man.” My dad grimaces at the use of old man. “Stella and I actually had a really deep conversation about everything that happened. It’s not my story to tell, but she apologized. She had a lot going on, and after going to therapy, she realized she handled everything crashing around her poorly.”
Nodding his head, he says, “That’s good; you both talked it through first. I don’t want you rushing into anything and getting hurt again. I don’t think I could survive watching you like that again.”
I finish eating, wash my dishes, and head upstairs. I might as well lie miserably in bed until sleep crashes over me. There’s no message from Stella. Why would there be? People don’t constantly check their emails.
I roll over on my stomach, my arms tucking under my pillow, and I shove my face into the downy fluff. I really shouldn’t stress this much over a fucking phone. I know it’s not just about the fucking phone. I don’t think I can do this back and forth for long. Plus, what happens when her project is over and she goes back to Virginia full-time?
I jump out of bed, padding along the plush carpet to where my laptop sits on my desk. I yank out my chair and flop down. Before I even register what I’m doing, I’ve got a job board pulled up, and I’m deep into listings near Stella’s school.
I stay up until 2 a.m., submitting applications for any position for which I’m even partly qualified.
