I fell in love with someone who wasn’t real. I opened up to him. Told him things I’d never told anyone else. Shared with him my innermost, most private secrets. And he wasn’t real.
FML
If AJ was real, he would have waited at the restaurant. He would have texted me back. He would have called me.
But AJ was just a fantasy. An idea of what I wanted. A manifestation of what I thought I needed.
And I’m just a fucking idiot.
***
Work should be hard, but it’s actually just the distraction I need. I focus on the files, on the names, and leave my phone and thoughts of AJ in my purse on my desk.
It’s mind-numbing work, exactly what my mind is needing. The office buzzes around me with activity. When I file, I become part of the background, blending in with the scenery. The others that work in the office just walk on past, ignoring me as I work through the cabinets, treating me as if I don’t exist. That’s how I like it. Today especially.
I fall into a rhythm of where I’m going without actually thinking about what I’m doing. I find my Zen. I’m actually disappointed when I reach the end of the stack. I wish there was more. After locking up the cabinets, I turn and walk back to my office.
I’m putting on my jacket, getting ready to leave when I check my phone out of pure habit. I have one new message.
Chapter Four
AJ: Hey, I’m sorry about yesterday but I can explain. Please don’t hate me.
The phone shakes in my hand. No, wait, it’s my hand that is doing the shaking.
He’s sorry? He can explain? All the emotions I filed away while I was working come bubbling back to the surface. Confusion, anger, and the worst of them all, hope. I try to squash that hope. I need to stomp it out permanently, but it’s clingy, it won’t go away. Hope right now is my biggest enemy.
I just spent my day feeling depressed and stupid. Why do I want to text him back right away, hoping it had all been one great big misunderstanding?
I guess I rather believe I’m not stupid, that all that invested time and emotion was not for nothing. I know I’m acting a fool. I’m becoming living proof of that saying: Fool me once, shame on you. Fool me twice, shame on me.
I just can’t help myself, I’m too damn weak. I shoot him a text back.
Me: I’m leaving work. Let me have it.
AJ: Call me.
I rushed home to call him. I wasn’t even aware of what I was doing. It was all muscle memory.
Now that I can call him, I’m afraid. I have to do it, though, I have to know. If I don’t like the answer maybe the why of it can give me closure.
I close my eyes. From the way I’m feeling, the way I’m breathing, the way I’m acting, you’d think I was getting ready to dive off a building or something. My finger makes the push. My phone is ringing.
His husky voice greets me, “Hello, beautiful.”
Just like that AJ makes me weak. He has that kind of power over me.
“Hello,” I exhale.
There is a long minute of silence. I walk over to my couch and sit down. I pull my knees up to me chest and hug them.
I think he’s waiting for me to say something else. I’m not going to make this easy on him. The silence continues. I hear him breathing. In my apartment, the only sound is my refrigerator humming.
Finally he says, “Hailey, I’m very sorry.”
It hurts. The betrayal, being stood up, acknowledging it.
“Why?”