Lost (19 page)

  “Sorry, Soph.  I’ll be back as soon as I can.  I made plans with-“

  “Peter, this week is your vacation, too, and so far you've been stuck with me for days being sick.  It’s no problem,” I lied.
  Shaking his head, Peter argued.  “You've only been sick for a day and a half.  We had a fantastic night together Sunday, and it's only noon on Tuesday.  I have somewhere to be tonight, but I’m absolutely not leaving because I’ve been
stuck
with you,” he exhaled.  “I play the guitar with some friends in a funky little garage band we won't give up with age, so I promised I’d see them later.”
  “I liked your funny poem yesterday,” I suddenly said, thinking where the hell did that come from.  Then I realized it came from my pathetic desperation to keep talking to him.
  “Thanks,” he laughed.  “I didn't realize how sick you were when I wrote it, otherwise it might had been at least a little romantic,” he smiled. 

  “When are you leaving?”
  “Soon.  Will you be okay?  Would you like me to get you anything before I go?”
  “No, I'm good.  Thank you, anyway,” I mumbled happily because I didn’t want him to feel bad leaving me.     
  Speaking far more enthusiastically than required or that I even felt, I said, “I hope you have fun.  Call me.”

  I desperately tried to sound casual without adding the later, or the soon, or the like five minutes after you leave me.  I left it open like it didn't matter, but it did matter.  It mattered to me if Peter called because I wanted him to call me.
  “I'll call you later.  We usually finish up around 10 when Cam's wife Emily starts getting pissed at us,” he grinned pushing out from under me gently.  “I’ll just grab a quick shower before I make you some lunch and get out of your way,” he smiled.
  “You don't have to make me lunch, Peter.  And you're not in my way,” I tried to soothe myself when I felt the absence of his warmth around me. 

  While Peter showered I laid in my bed miserably.  I realized I really had never gone first, nor had I loved first.  I had never confessed my feelings, whether real or potential before the other person did.  It wasn't in my nature to be weak or exposed with anyone, never mind with a man. And though I knew Peter didn't want me to be weak, I felt weak anyway. I couldn't help but think of all the ways I was becoming dependent on him; emotionally, sexually, and mentally.
  I thought of how I felt during the brief moments we weren't together, and I loved my time with him when we were.  I
was
dependent on him, already.  So when I thought of the actual timeframe of our relationship, only 3 weeks, I was freaked out and overwhelmed by my dependency on him to make me feel. 

  But then I thought of all those people who say they just knew when they found the one they loved.  They always say they knew instantly, and I kind of felt like I knew it too.  Thinking, I tried to force myself to stop focusing on a timeframe that was acceptable to love so I could just decide
to
love. 

  In that moment, quiet in my room, with Peter here but absent from me I knew I loved him.
  When I realized I loved Peter, the thought of him leaving me for the rest of the day and maybe the whole night created an awful pain in my chest.  I was horrified to realize I was not only going to miss him, but I was going to be lonely without him.  I was sad to realize I would be lonely for the first time in my life.

  I knew I needed Peter in a way that though absolutely foreign to me, felt right somehow.  Being with Peter made me happy and I wanted to live with that happiness for as long as I could. 

                                                *****
 

  After he finished his shower Peter did make me a sandwich and some soup.  He poured me a glass of orange juice, and he set me up on the couch before he left.  He cared for me with little smiles, and with kisses on my forehead.  Peter hugged me tightly before wrapping a blanket around me while kissing my lips deeply before he left.  

  So I let him leave with a smile and a ‘have fun’, but I ached deep inside my chest when he actually left me.
 

CHAPTER 16

  During Peter’s absence while I was sick, I called my girlfriends to pretend to be well.  I called to pretend I was still connected to the world.  I called to try to
feel
connected to the world. 

  I confirmed our New Years' plans, and I listened to Kim go on and on about her bar guy from Sunday night.  I listened to an excited Kim who was quite smitten with the new guy, shocked even to hear she was inviting him to Amy's huge New Year’s bash.
  Afterward, I called and listened to my girlfriend Amy trash her boyfriend of 3 years for failing to propose again over Christmas, which she was sure was going to happen.  But after 20 minutes I managed to convince her that there was still the potential for a New Years' proposal, or that he may even be waiting for the very romantic, albeit cheesy, Valentine's Day proposal.
  I explained that he loved her obviously, so he was probably waiting for a very special moment to propose.  I soothed her into remembering all the ways he had mattered to her over the last 3 years until she was calm and in love again.  I talked Amy off the cliff of dumping Davis' ass for NOT giving her all she required, even as personally I was dying inside.
  On Wednesday morning, I called and spoke to Denise about my shift that night at the restaurant.  She could hear how sick I was, and said the restaurant would be slow, so not to worry about coming in, even before I told her I couldn’t.  But as we spoke briefly, I realized there was more to be said to Denise though. 

  I needed to end working part time because I didn’t want the infrequent shifts over my head when I could be doing something, or
someone
else.  After a few minutes learning about her Christmas, I finally explained I was sorry but I couldn’t work part time anymore with ‘everything going on’. 

  I didn’t specify it was about Peter and not about my new job, but she assumed it was about my new job, and she understood the new demands I had to fulfill.  Denise made me promise to pop in anytime, and to please keep in touch, which I promised I would.

  After Denise, I called my brother to check up on him since we hadn’t spoken for 3 days, but Steven heard my residual sickness instantly.  He even offered to come over when he was finished work, but I turned him down quickly.  I didn't want him to see me because he could read me and he'd know there was more going on with me than just our usual every day or every second day check-ins.
  Keeping it together as we spoke, I chose to not deal with my sad reality without Peter, instead talking to Steven about his newest conquest- a hot little number he had seen two times since Sunday night, with plans again for later that night.
  Steven was being almost low-key about his new Michelle which made me think there was more going on between them than Steven's usual bang and run.  So naturally, I wanted to cry again when I heard about Steven and his new Michelle maybe being more than the little nothing special he was used to with all his other women. 

  I couldn’t help feeling sad that Steven maybe had something special starting, while my something special wasn’t with me, but I didn’t let it show.  I kept it together enough to encourage Steven to enjoy his new Michelle, and to not sleep with her too quickly, so the infatuation didn’t have time to burn out before the relationship even started.  I nearly quoted Peter verbatim to Steven, which of course only made me miss Peter more.
 

   So that was my day without Peter.  I reestablished myself among my friends and my brother, while ghosting around cleaning and tidying my clean and tidy apartment with a runny nose and a sore throat. 

  Essentially, I spent Tuesday and Wednesday morning miserable.  And by Wednesday afternoon when I hadn't heard from Peter in 28 hours, I almost lost my mind.
  I was alone and shaky, and scared and confused.  I was so sad without him I couldn't stop crying.  I couldn't handle the fact that he didn't want me anymore or that he hadn’t called me to say goodbye. 

  In my sad desperation, I even poured a little of his jasmine scented massage oil on
his
pillow, as I thought of it, hugging the pillow tightly so Peter’s jasmine could surround me.  I lit his candle before I fell asleep in the afternoon, and I dreamed of his arms wrapped around me as I slept horribly.
  By Wednesday evening I was officially a mess.  I showered, shaved, and washed my hair knowing I was getting ready for him, unsure of how exactly he was getting to me.  I didn’t know how he was coming to me because I didn't know how to stop the absence of Peter from my life.
  In the course of 33 hours without him, I missed Peter until it was a constant ache in my chest.  I missed him until I simply couldn't take it anymore.  I couldn't stop obsessing about all things Peter.  And no matter how hard I tried, I couldn't stop myself from missing him.

  Eventually, after I had decided I didn't care about being weak anymore, I grabbed the phone among all the cast-off tissues, sandwich plates, and drinking glasses all over my coffee table, and I called him.

  I held my breath as I dialed, and I exhaled when he answered.
  “Hi Sophie,” he answered without pause.
  “Hi...” But, well, I
was
me, so talking openly was still difficult.
  Thankfully, Peter continued the conversation for me. “How are you feeling?”
  “Terrible,” I sighed.
  “Still?  That's not good, Soph.  Your cold should've lessened by now.  Have you been eating?”
  “Of course,” I answered quietly because I couldn't admit to everything I wanted to say.
  “What's wrong, baby?”
  “I don't feel well,” I huffed again at my stupidity. 
  “Like how?” He asked clearly sounding concerned.
  So bracing myself, I said all I could. “Um, it's not the cold...”
  “Then what is it?  Tell me what you need from me.” And that was when I knew what he wanted. 

  In that very moment I knew he was testing me, and provoking me, and almost daring me.  He wanted me to tell him what I needed from him, and he wanted to hear me give into our relationship.  He wanted me to give into my needs, and he wanted me to give into
him,
completely.
  So inhaling deeply, I went for it. “I miss you...” I moaned with a dramatic exhale.
  “Why?” He asked like a complete asshole, which made me almost snap at him but thankfully I reeled in my temper before yelling as I tried to speak the truth he needed from me.
  “Because you matter to me.”
  “Why?”
  “Oh
, god
.  Why are you doing this to me?” I cried.  I was exhausted and sad and I still felt like shit, and I just wanted him to stop.  “Please stop.  You
know
why.”
  “Why do you miss me?” He asked seriously, almost like he didn't actually know the answer.  So I gave him the best answer I could.
  “Because, Peter... I think you might be a forever for me.  I think.  And I want to try to be a forever with you instead of...” but again I couldn’t find the words. 
  For all my ambition and drive, my good grades, and verbal talents.  For all my kindness and security around others, I was totally screwed with Peter.  I was so out of my comfort zone the words were just gone, like they didn't even exist.  I didn't even know what they were supposed to be or what they should have sounded like coming out of my mouth.
  “Peter...
please,
” I begged desperately.

  In that moment I didn't care how pathetic I sounded because I was
sad and depressed.  Though I had never known the feeling of depression before in my life, it felt like others had described it so I was pretty sure it was depression I was suffering.  And I was exhausted from it.
  “I'll be over in half an hour,” Peter finally said.  “I've missed you, Sophie, so much.  But I'll see you soon,” he said as he disconnected.
  Listening to the sudden dial tone, I exhaled all my nervous tension.  Breathing finally, I fell back onto my couch from the crunched over the coffee table position I had held for the better part of our conversation, and I tried to relax my mind.
  I tried to get excited for his arrival, and I tried to be happy.  But the sadness hadn't lifted with our conversation, and the pain was still throbbing inside my chest.  I missed him, and I knew being without him was too much for me to handle.  Even with the potential for a recovery when he came to me, I still couldn't find any happiness in anything because he wasn’t with me when I needed him.
  So I walked to the front door to unlock it, followed by a bathroom break and a good teeth brushing before I pulled my hair into a proper ponytail, and I washed my nasty face. 
  In the bathroom I looked at myself thoroughly.  I wore leggings and a huge sweater, and though my clothes were clean I was sloppy looking. I wore no makeup so my eyes didn't pop, and my lips looked smaller and less defined without lipstick.  I stared at myself and realized I just didn’t look like me at all anymore.
  Walking back to my living room to lie on the couch while I waited for the sadness to lift, I realized I really wasn't the same anymore, because of Peter.