Around noon, I’m feeling worse and find myself staring blankly at my screen. I’ve been stuck on the same article for an hour and a half. I’ve been alternating between staring at the facts I had scribbled down, and staring at my computer screen, then getting up for a drink, or to use the restroom. Now I’m back to staring at the computer screen, and glancing at my phone. I push the center button for the third time in one minute to make sure I didn’t miss a call or text, although I already know I haven’t.
My office phone rings. Turning to look at who’s calling, I smile as I quickly recognize the number on the ID. This call might just be enough to break through the thick cloud that hovers over my thoughts.
“What’s going on, lady?” I say, picking up the receiver.
“I’ve been driving since 4:00 a.m. and I’m telling you, every time I make this damn drive, I swear it will be my last. Next year I’m flying, or I’m never coming home again,” Gwen shouts into my ear over the sound of big rigs as she flies down the five freeway. She curses at one of them before I faintly hear her car accelerate.
“You’re coming home?” I ask, shocked. “You’re not supposed to be coming home until Christmas.”
“Plans changed. My mom and dad are being ridiculous, they say I never visit.” Gwen lets out an irritated sigh on the other end of the line. “I had the time to take, so I took it. I’m staying with you, though, because after the last visit, if my mother and I spend longer than a few hours together, I swear someone will call the cops!”
I laugh because sadly her statement is very true. When first reunited, Gwen and her mother act like long-lost friends. As time progresses, though, and more wine is poured, the two proceed to tear each other apart. Last time, I had to intervene and restrain Gwen from grabbing one of her mother’s expensive vases and hurling it across the room at her.
Gwen’s mother is Irish, and her father is Italian. The combination does absolutely nothing to calm the fight that’s so naturally embedded on both sides of their genetic pool.
“Where are you at? Are you close to town?” I ask.
Having her here is sure to help me get my mind off of the one person I can’t stop thinking about. She might be able to lend some good advice too, seeing as I am starting to think everything I was sure about when it came to Noah might not be the way I believed it was after all.
“I think I’m going to take the rest of the afternoon off and just work from home tonight,” I say. “My head is so not into it today.”
“What’s the matter? Is your editor climbing up your ass again?” Gwen asks.
My editor is the definition of annoying, and is almost identical to the boss from Office Space. He throws work at me constantly, and gets on my case for everything and anything. If it wasn’t for my love of what I do, I would have quit a long time ago. He’s a micromanaging, nitpicking, ready to throw you under the bus any time just to make himself shine, type of boss.
“Gwen, I’m not inclined to let anyone climb up my ass, ever. It’s a long story, I’ll explain it later.”
“Well, I’m about an hour out. I’ll meet you at your place, and we’ll drink wine and talk about whatever it is that has you all oppressed and melancholy.”
“I do declare, those are some big words coming from you, Gwen,” I laugh.
“Hey, I went to college,” she says. “But, if you’d rather, we can ignore it all and keep throwing glasses back until we are dancing on the dining room table. You know I’m down for anything. Now finish the fuck up and get your ass home.”
“That’s more like it,” I chuckle. “I’ll meet you at my place.”
“Warm that damn place up before I get there, too. Your place might be fabulously chic, but damn if it doesn’t feel like the Antarctic in the winter and the Mojave Desert in summer.”
With that, Gwen hangs up and I start contriving a plan for my best excuse in order to get out of the office.
Normally, I would claim an assignment and just take extra time off, then make up for it later in the week. But, I had already done that last week with my trip south. I managed to do some work on the road, but I know the boss won’t be too happy with me leaving again.
Leaning back in my chair, I glance at my editor’s office and notice he has already left. It has to be either an early lunch day or an assignment he’s working on, too. Whatever it is, it’s the perfect opportunity to escape.
Hurrying, I shut down my computer, stash my notes in my oversized purse, and grab the few things I toted into work that morning. I’ll think up an excuse later. Gwen’s always full of great excuses. I have definitely taken advantage of using her expertise for the perfect alibi in the past.
On my way home, I stop at a local store and grab wine and snacks. If there’s one thing bigger than my friend’s drinking ability, it’s her appetite. Though I don’t know where she puts it. She’s a gorgeous redhead blessed with some amazing features that make many women jealous.
Hurrying through the local store, grabbing the perfect extras I need for the girls’ night ahead, I quickly check out and return to my car eager to head home. Gwen’s distraction is, in fact, putting me in a better mood. I have almost forgotten about Noah and how he hasn’t even called. Almost being the key word.
As I round the corner to my street, my phone beeps in my center console. I glance at the screen and see it’s a message from Rex. When I slow down at a stop sign, I pick up the phone and try to read the text before I accelerate once again.
Rex: Next time you give a guy your number, make sure you give him the right one. Noah’s been trying to call you all week.
My heart drops. How could I have done such a thing. Did I really enter the number wrong when he handed me his phone? I’ve never done something like this before, but maybe the pure excitement of the situation clouded my thoughts somehow, making it easy to stumble over my fingers. Whatever the reason, panic builds as I worry he’ll think I did it intentionally.
As I pull away from the stop sign, I scroll through my phone and find Noah’s name. The phone starts ringing as I pull up in front of my house. I hold my breath. After the first ring, my heart starts to beat faster. With the second ring, my throat grows dry. When it rings the third time, I swear I’m going to voicemail and my heart sinks.
Then he picks up, and I have to remind myself to keep breathing.
