I don’t deserve to feel this way.
I deserve a life like Adam’s.
Adam.
All thoughts revert back to the fact that I still don’t have my car. My car has been parked at Mom’s all night, which means she is speculating the absolute worst or best—however she wants to look at the situation. I went out with Brody last night and never came back to collect my car. I’ll need a good story for this one.
11
I wonderif Brody forgot about my car or purposely left me stranded. While I debate on how to retrieve my vehicle, I sip on one of the lukewarm coffees Brody left on the counter. The flavor is hazelnut, like the kind he stole from me. I suppose I can chalk that up as a thoughtful gesture.
My phone, with its inability to stay quiet for more than a full hour, is buzzing, and I make my way over to see who needs to talk so early in the morning, finding Melody’s perky smile and name flashing across my display.
“Hey,” I answer.
“Good morning,” she chirps. “I have a crazy question for you.”
I take another sip of my coffee. “Oh yeah, what’s that?”
“Where are you?”
I glance from side to side, wondering if this is a trick question. “At home, why?”
“Well, your car is blocking my car in Mom’s driveway, and I can’t get to work.”
Right. My car. There was no way to escape this one. “Uh, well, I don’t exactly have a way to get to my car, but ...” How are we going to do this? “Oh, there’s a spare set of car keys in the top dresser drawer of my old bedroom. If you drive my car here, I’ll take you to work, then maybe, Brett can bring you home?”
Melody pauses long enough to cause me some stress. “Journey, how did you get to your apartment without your Jeep?”
“It’s a long story,” I tell her.
“Mmhm. Well, I can’t wait to hear it.” My eyes float to the ceiling, wishing I could have gotten away with no one knowing about this incident. I’m sure Mom told her I left with Brody. She just wants me to spell it out. “I’ll be there soon.”
The call disconnects, and I bury the urge to rant about my irritation for Brody. The remaining sparks sizzling through the core of my body. I grab some clean clothes from my dresser and stumble around as I hide the evidence of what happened here just a half hour ago. I even go as far as straightening the comforter on my bed, which I rarely do. Maybe she’ll call when she gets here, rather than coming up like she usually does. I don’t know why she feels the need to get out of a warm car to pick me up at the door whenever we’re going somewhere, but part of me thinks she’s checking up on me, looking for whatever she thinks I’m hiding.
After my boots are on, I take a seat on the bar stool, sipping on more coffee, trying to push away the images blooming in my mind. The thoughts are only growing. They aren’t going away. I felt happy, alive, and like I didn’t want our time to end. I have absolutely no regrets, yet; I feel this will all change.
“Good morning,” I hear with a knock at the door squeals open.
“Why didn’t you just text me. I would have come downstairs?”
Melody peeks around my apartment, looking for something or someone she won’t find. “Are you aware, I know you’re snooping? Or do you think I’m oblivious?”
“Eh, I don’t care either way. Sometimes it’s the only way to find out the information I’m curious about,” Melody says, continuing her investigation around the apartment. She ends up in the kitchen when I hear an “Ah-ha.”
I turn around, finding her holding my shorts—the ones I was wearing when Brody came inside. “My shorts give you a clue?” I try to play it off.
“Your shorts are hanging off the cabinet door under the sink. What reason would you have to hang them there unless they had been thrown from across the room?” My sister might be annoying and chipper, and always happy, but she’s also more intelligent than I’d rather admit.
“I was tossing clothes into the kitchen, creating a laundry pile, and I must have missed my shorts,” I tell her.
“Why are there two coffee cups?”
“I like coffee.”
“How did you get coffee cups when you don’t live near a coffee shop, and you didn’t have your Jeep?”
I usually win at this game. “They’re from yesterday.”
