Hi F,
I can’t make it to lunch today. A thing’s come up that I can’t get out of. Hope you understand, and I’m really sorry if I disappointed you.
-R
I am not an overthinker. I have more important things to occupy my mind, like fantasising about my life after graduating, winning a scholarship, and moving away from Mum. There is no reason to overthink. There’s nothing to analyse, anyway. If I think the letter is cold, that’s me being pessimistic. It is polite. Nice, even. He apologised. And it’s totally reasonable to miss an afternoon. Frankly, it’s surprising it hasn’t happened before. We’ve been doing this for months.
It means nothing. It doesn’t matter that he started the letter with ‘hi’ instead of ‘dear’. It doesn’t matter that the word ‘love’ has disappeared. I’m focusing on silly, minor stuff. It’s fine.
After I write a response that sounds completely unaffected, it's still fine.
Dear R,
No worries, I understand. Do you have an idea of when you would be available to meet again?
I hope everything is okay with you.
Love,
F.
I spend lunchtime with Tim and his friends in the library, comparing study notes. The weekend arrives, and I’m productive despite the fact that R hasn’t emailed me back yet. Maybe he lost his phone. Maybe he travelled somewhere without internet. Maybe he’s sick. Oh god, what if he’s sick?
When Monday rolls around, I’m still hopeful that I’ll see him at lunchtime and everything will be explained. Despite my optimism, I’m still antsy, and everything gets on my nerve. I get impatient when the line for the tuck shop moves too slowly or when a group of girls laugh too loudly in English class.
It’s fine. It’s fine. It’s fine.
When it rains that afternoon, I get annoyed about that too, then hate how I’m so out of sorts that I’m angry about the weather. What’s wrong with me?
In Maths, Aaron is as distant as he was the week before. Fine. We’re not talking anymore? Good. I don’t care.
At lunchtime, I’m on my way to the room when I receive an email from R. My heart drops when I see how short it is.
I won’t be able to make it to today’s meeting either. Sorry. Things in my personal life are really hectic. But I will let you know.
I’m not insane. He’s definitely withdrawing. Everything was fine a week ago. Maybe I scared him off when I said I liked him, but he said he cared about me first. He said that he had missed me.
I don’t know what happened. Did I make a mistake somewhere? Ruin things?
This time, I write a letter as blunt as his. No greetings or sign-offs. And I’m not trying to be petty, but writing love when he doesn’t is humiliating.
So the only sentence I write is this:
Did I do something wrong?
The next day, I’m sleep-deprived and on edge. Thankfully, I’ve had a lot of practice functioning despite feeling bad, courtesy of all the family drama I’ve gone through, which means I’m able to sit my Chem test and not feel like I totally flunked it.
At lunchtime, I take the combination lock off locker 99. We don’t need it anymore now that we’re using email, and even that might not last much longer. Afterwards, I sit in the Year 12 study area of the library, annotating my copy ofTwelfth Night, but the letters blur without me taking in anything. Stress thrums under my skin, making me feel jittery like I’ve chugged sixteen espressos. R still hasn’t replied. Like an idiot, I tried calling him last night, but he didn’t pick up.
I must look so foolish.
Iknewour anonymous hookups were a bad idea from the beginning. All I wanted this year was a scholarship and to move to the city. Now I want him.
Someone who — let’s be honest — I don’t even know.
I blink my eyes hard and stare at the play before me. I highlighted quotes with different colours representing different themes, but now I can’t make sense of them.
Why would R abruptly distance himself from me? I must have done something wrong. I’ve never done this before, been vulnerable and intimate with someone else, so it makes sense that I’ve made a mistake as a result of my ignorance.
