Opening my laptop and clicking on Google, I searched Landon Roderick. A listing with that name came up in Los Angeles.
Los Angeles?
Was it even him?
If so, he probably wasn’t going to remember me. But I didn’t care. Unable to talk my inebriated self down, I needed to tell him off. I needed him to know how fucked-up it was—what his parents did. And I needed him to know that he was no better than me. Basically, I needed to say the things I had been yelling at him in my head all of these years.
I dialed the number and listened to the ringing.
A deep, gravelly voice came on the line. “Yeah…”
My heartbeat accelerated. “Is this Landon?”
“Who’s this?”
“I’m sure you don’t remember me. Well, with your fancy California life and all.”
“Excuse me?”
“You need to know something. I had feelings.”
“The fuck? What?” He repeated, “Who is this?”
“Maybe all I was to you was the pudgy, little tomboy with the bad haircut and the hairy arms—just the girl who lived in the garage. But I mattered. Not only that, I looked up to you. I looked forward to every day spent riding my bike in circles in the front driveway while you skateboarded around me. I still have all your damn folded notes. I don’t know why I even kept them. Meanwhile, I bet you don’t even remember who the hell I am. Nooo…not my-shit-don’t-stink Landon Roderick…in his L.A. mansion, too good to remember the little people. In case you’re wondering whatever happened to me, well, everything went to hell after we moved. My mother left us. And my life was never the same again. So, even though you don’t even remember who I am, I remember you. Sadly, the last time I was ever happy was with you.”
With tears streaming down my cheeks and no words left, I hung up and threw the phone across my bed.
And then it sank in.
Oh, shit.
Oh, no.
What did I just do?
My heart was pounding. The room was spinning faster than before.
A few seconds later, the phone started to ring. Clutching my knees to my chest, I simply stared at it as if it was a bomb that would have exploded upon answering.
No. I wouldn’t answer. I’d made a fool of myself. When it stopped ringing, I let out a sigh of relief that barely lasted until the phone started going off yet again. I still didn’t answer. It eventually stopped—for about five minutes.
Then, it started ringing again.
I finally lifted the phone and looked at the caller ID: L. Roderick.
Straightening my back against the headboard, I took a deep breath in and prepared to answer.
Clearing my throat, I did my best to sound like a composed woman, one who’d maybe just had a drunken demon exorcised from her. “Hello?”
He let out a deep breath. A moment of silence passed, until he finally said, “Rana Banana?”HE SAID-SHE SAIDTo hear those words spoken through that deep voice was truly surreal. Since when did Landon sound like that?
I finally answered, “Yes.”
He let out another breath. “Holy shit. Rana Fucking Banana.”
“Look…just forget I ever called, okay? Go back to doing what you were doing. Pretend this never happened.” I was just about to hang up when his voice stopped me.
“Wait.”
I said nothing but kept on the line.
“Are you still there?” he asked.
My voice was low. “Yes.”
“I’m supposed to just forget this phone call ever happened?”
“Sure. Just like you forgot I ever existed.”
“What are you talking about?”
“How can you even ask that? Your parents kicked us out onto the street. You never even came over to say goodbye. In fact, you magically disappeared during that entire ordeal.”
His voice grew louder. “Wait a second. First of all, I have thought about you—a lot, if you really want to know. It’s haunted me, actually. And second of all, you have it all wrong.”
“How?”
“My parents didn’t kick you guys out. They told me your parents left without paying the rent. I remember going in there afterward and helping to clean out half the shit you all left behind.”
“Well, your parents lied. We were forced to leave.”
“Look. This is apparently a he said-she said situation. The bottom line is, I never meant to not say goodbye to you. I wasn’t there when it all went down. I’d gone to visit my grandmother for a couple of days. No one told me you were moving until after it had happened. I got back, and you were gone.”
I didn’t know what to make of this. Either he was lying, or my parents had lied to me. Either way, I felt like a complete idiot at the moment.
“Look. Again, this phone call was a mistake. There’s no point in rehashing all of this thirteen years later anyway. Have a good—”
“What made you call me tonight?”
“I was drunk.”
“You drunk dialed me?”