Enduring

4

What if he doesn't come back? What if he's just made his escape? I sit on the edge of my couch, staring at the empty spaces in my bookshelf. I bet I was horrid and he was just too nice to say anything. I bet he just left. God, I'm stupid. A salty drop of a tear plops onto the rug.

"Oh, for the love of fuck, Seymour. Pull yourself together," I mutter, swiping at my eyes. "God. So dumb. It was just sex. Let it go."

But a small part of my soul still grasps at the notion that maybe Cal will come back, maybe he'll return, arms full of coffee and donuts and love, all ready to hold me again. I close my eyes.

But what if he doesn't? What if he's gone? What if- Oh, God. What if he has a boyfriend, or a girlfriend? What if he has a wife? A husband? You don't know him, you don't know him at all! God. So dumb. He's gone.

He probably didn't even like you.

I scrub my face. A nauseating mold is growing in my stomach; I try to ignore it. Not that it even matters. It was one night. He did say that would be all he needed. It meant nothing.

I feels my eyes tear up, my chest tighten. He's just like everyone else. A lump grows in my throat, and I try to swallow it. Instead, a tear slips down my face.

Oh, wonderful. You're crying. What a show, Seymour. Fabulous job. How pathetic. I swipe at my eye and the other lets out a stream of salt water. Ugh. I press the heels of my palms against my eyes and will myself to pull it together.

A polite knock at the door. My head whips up. A postman? Cal? Probably a postman. I try to make sure the spaces around my eyes aren't too red, then pad across the room to the door and pull it open. My knees feel weak.

Cal, all beaming sunshine and unruly hair stands there with a tray holding two cups of coffee and a bag of donuts. I hold in a gasp, and an ugly helium fills my chest. I hate that I feel so relieved. I can't believe I got so out of control in the first place. "I'm back..." Cal's smile drops. "What happened, love?"

"Nothing!" I smile, likely unconvincingly, and shake my head. "Everything's fine!" I was just being an overdramatic spaz as usual, don't mind me.

"Sey..." He shuts the door behind him with his foot and steps forward. "I know we aren't that close yet, but you can talk to me."

I avoid his eyes. "No, it's okay. I'm okay. Everything's fine." You dolt. You've made him worry. Stop it. "What'd you get?" I try to peek in the bag, subject change evident.

"Seymour." His tone is the most serious I've heard it, and I glance up at him through my eyelashes. "Are you sure you don't need to talk about it?" I nod.

"I'm sure. Feed me."

Cal smirks at me, setting the bag on the coffee table. "Oh, I have something you'd love to eat-"

"Don't you say it. Don't you do it, Cal." He throws his head back, laughing, and his teeth shine in the sunlight. Wow. "So, you said we'd get to know one another, right?" He sits on the sofa, and I join him just afterwards.

"Sure." Cal sips from a crinkly insulated cup and passes me the other. "It's coffee, black. Didn't know what you liked. There's sugar and cream in the bag." He takes another drink. "So, first thing I wanna ask: how do you like your coffee?"

I sift through the bag and pick out the hazelnut creamers. "Black."

"Like your men?" Cal winks, and I laugh before I can help it.

"Yeah, I guess so." A gulp of coffee sets my stomach blazing, and I already feel more awake. "But I do like drinking the creamers on the side." Before Cal can make a lewd comment, I rush ahead. "How do you take your coffee?"