Emma
“When’s Eli getting back?”
Good question. He’s already been gone a few weeks. Oh, who am I kidding. I act like I don’t know exactly how long he’s been gone. Eighteen days, six hours, and forty-two minutes. That’s how long he’s been gone.
And honestly, I don’t know when he’s coming back. Or worse,ifhe’s coming back. After the night dealing with Amber, we spent it at Eli’s place. I knew something was wrong and I assumed it had to do with my sister––that maybe Eli couldn’t handle the drama. He was quiet all night. Too quiet. Plus, he barely touched me, which is saying something because every time we’ve slept in the same bed, he’s always wanted to.
That wasn’t what was wrong, though. He told me about his dad. About New York. The tryout. While the thought of him leaving made my heart feel like it was dying, I knew I had to support him. This has been in the works since long before we met. It wouldn’t have been right to try to stop him, so I acted happy for him. I encouraged him to go, saying things like “Besides the computer stuff, this is something you’ve always wanted, right?”
He nods. “Pretty much.”
“If it’s your dream, then you’vegotto try, Eli. You have an opportunity that not many people get. And if you make it, which I’m sure you will because you’re so good at the hockey, think of the money.” I mean, why would I stand in his way? Besides, I’m in no place to argue with the likes of Jack Baxter.
It was weird though. After I said all those things, Eli’s expression changed from concern to something resembling irritation or even anger. The conversation ended abruptly with him telling me he was going.
I’d love to tell you I’ve since found out why that was, why he got angry all of a sudden, but I can’t because I haven’t spoken to him. Sure, he’s sent me texts. Two, to be exact. The first:
Eli:Landed safely.
That one came the day he left, obviously and, in retrospect, I believe the only reason he sent it was because I made him promise he’d let me know he got there in one piece. The second came three days later.
Eli:Made it through the initial round.
I sent him several responses to each, but none of them garnered a response.
Heck, I’ve heard from his mom way more than him. She’s called me half a dozen times checking on me and letting me know what Eli’s been up to. I’m glad she has, because if I didn’t know just how busy Eli really was, I’d probably be sobbing in my bed worrying that Eli and I are over. But according to Helene, he’s not just playing hockey. Part of the tryouts include weekly physicals, two psychological evaluations, weights and conditioning, plus he spends all day with the team. Helene also told me he spends his evenings doing his best to keep up with his classes. I’m aware his professors gave him permission to continue working remotely. I know he’s busy. Too busy for me, apparently.
Eighteen days later, I still can’t help wondering why he hasn’t called me. Not once. And why only two tiny text messages. At first, I sent him several messages a day, most with a photo of me doing something mundane. After a few days of getting no responses, I trimmed it down to one message per day. Now, I’m at one message every three or four days and it’s killing me. I have no idea what I did to deserve to be ghosted by the guy who claimed I was his and he was mine. The man I love.
God, I miss him so much.
