Misunderstandings (Woodfalls Girls 2)

“Why do girls carry so much shit in their bags?” Justin asked, taking in the piles of stuff I had sorted in front of me.

“Oh, hi. Are you talking to me again?” I asked sarcastically. I was sick of him treating me like a yo-yo. One minute he was cordial enough to hold a conversation with, and the next he was a raving lunatic.

“I don’t know. I’m trying here, okay?” he said, running his hand through his hair.

“Yeah, well, so am I. So if you could hold off using me like a verbal punching bag until I can escape from this hellhole, I’d appreciate it. You’re not the only one who was hurt.” It bothered me that he seemed to forget everything that had transpired.

His teeth came together with a snap, but he didn’t comment. While he mulled over my words, I continued cleaning out my bag.

“What’s in those little bottles?” he finally asked, eyeing the seven mini bottles of hand sanitizer I had unearthed.

“Hand sanitizer,” I admitted, seeing the proof of my OCD.

“And you need seven bottles, why?” he asked.

I shrugged my shoulders. “Beats the heck out of me. I guess I’m always afraid of not having one when I need it, so I buy a new one every time I go to the mall. I guess I have enough.” I smiled, even though it felt slightly forced. I didn’t offer up the fact that I also had a basket of them sitting on the dresser in my room.

“Mint?” I asked, tossing him one of the cellophane-wrapped candies.

“Old mints from the depths of your purse. What are you, my grandma? Thanks,” he said, pulling off the wrapper and popping the mint into his mouth.

“Hey, they have like a hundred-year shelf life. How’s the art?” I finally asked, since we seemed to be on a tentative truce.

“It’s good. I do a lot of freelance stuff. That job at the hospital that you convinced me I should charge for snowballed into more jobs than I could handle. I guess I owe you a thanks,” he said, looking dismayed at the idea of giving me credit for anything.

“I’m glad it worked out. You’re an amazing artist and should be treated as such.”

“What about you? Did you get your degree in elementary education?”

“Yep. I’m working part-time at the school in Woodfalls, mostly subbing until a full-time opening becomes available.”

“Still scaring the kids?” he asked, making me chuckle that he remembered.

“It’s not like it’s intentional. My boss teases me about the tight ship I run, but I like things orderly. At least elementary-aged kids don’t scare as easily as the kids at the daycare,” I mused, thinking back to the days when he and I had dated. I was working part-time at the daycare on campus and it had become a long-standing joke with my co-workers how the babies all seemed scared of me. It wasn’t like I ever yelled or anything, but I guess a serious tone of voice was just as frightening. Anytime the other teachers lost control of their classes, I was the one they called. Justin and my friends had found the whole thing hilarious and nicknamed me “Drill Sergeant.” The only kid who ever seemed immune to my voice was Justin’s sister, Hollie.

“You’re lucky. You seem like you’ve been able to put it out of your mind and move on,” he said in a voice that was hard to distinguish. I couldn’t tell if he was being sarcastic or cordial.

For a moment, I considered punching him. A quick punch to the jaw or maybe to the gut. It was awfully presumptuous of him to think I could erase it from my mind. In the beginning, it consumed my every thought. Eventually, time heals, I guess, because the pain tapered off to where I would only think of it a handful of times a day. Now, if I was lucky, I could go a whole day without thinking about it. He was an asshole to think I’d ever be able to forget. Let alone move on.

14.

Thanksgiving 2010

“I changed my mind,” I said, sinking down on my bed as Justin paced the narrow floor in front of me.

“You can’t change your mind. It’s all Hollie has been talking about. She’s looking forward to seeing you.”

“I’m sure I’ll be over there in the next few days. Just not today.”

“Why not today?” Justin implored, running his hand over his hair in frustration.

“Because.”

“Because? What the hell kind of answer is because? Because why?”

“Because . . .” I dragged out. “Spending the holidays with your family seems too fast, too soon. It’s something a couple does when they’ve been dating for a couple of years, not weeks. For God’s sake, we haven’t even made it past third base.”

“Third base? Does anyone still use that term?” he laughed.