2 Questions Every Girl is Asking Herself

Chapter 40

Ed's name appeared on the caller ID display. I was delighted and couldn't suppress a little smile/pout in a sort of "I knew it" way. I dried my eyes and answered as calmly as possible. Trying to pretend I hadn't been crying.

"How have you been? Are you ok?"

His voice sounded gentle as usual. I wondered if I should give him a hard time for causing so much distress and turmoil. So he can apologize and tell me he missed me. So I can tell him I missed him too. As a matter of fact, I missed him so much that I want to vomit. Which is both telling and frightening because this is all way too intense to be normal. I'd never felt anything even remotely like this before. But all I said was:

"Why are you calling me?"

There was a pause.

Holding my breath, I waited eagerly for what he might say next, but when he spoke at last, I felt myself all at once grow heavy.

Calmly and kindly, Ed says he wanted to check in. He thought I might be confused, he says. Confused. That's a good word. It hadn't occurred to me to label my current state as confused. I thought I was just supposed to accept "incompatible" as perfectly clear. I thought that's what mature people did. Damn right I'm confused. But I don't want to know. (More honestly though, I'm terrified of what I might find.) I just want us to go back to the way we were. But his tone...

His tone, reminded me of the time I broke up with my very first boyfriend, who called a few days after the breakup, wounded and vulnerable. It pained me to see him in so much pain. As we wept together, I tried my best to comfort him and I didn't want him to think he did anything wrong. I wanted to be there for him for as long as it would take him to get over the sorrow, but I wasn't about to get back together. Something about Ed's tone reminded me of my own.

Like frost settling in, I felt myself grow cold, layer by layer. I paced the room. My eyes sloshed around their sockets, unsure of where to rest. Hoping against reason, I clutched onto the phone, willing him to tell me, "COME BACK. DON'T GO. I MISS YOU!"

But ...he's not saying it.

Still...he's not saying it.

He's just not saying it. Damn it!

"Hello?"

I open my mouth to answer but could only choke forth a feeble "I'm here," before the tears rushed out. Every muscle of my body tensed to control the weeping. But like water seeping through a closed door, there's no way to stop, they just go on flowing.

Ed let me know that he still cares about me and wants to be friends. Friends? I don't want to be friends. I can't do it! The idea of him with another girl (oh heaven forbid, a girl prettier than me!?) while I stood aside as the "friend" trying to pretend to be happy for them only made me sob harder. Why would a guy care about you but only want to be friends? What is the unspeakable reason? What is the truth he cannot say? What is the truth I cannot bear? Oh I want to know, but I don't want to know.

I want...

I don't want...

I want...

I don't want...

Not able to bear the suspense any longer, at last, I rasped out the only thing I could think of:

"Am I not pretty enough?"

I was mortified at having to ask this, mid-sob and my voice sounded hysterical. There's nothing I liked about the way the question was asked, but it had to be asked. It's a question that'd been tormenting my mind for days, one that I'd shielded from my awareness, one that I didn't even dare to think. Because beyond that, I couldn't imagine a more hurtful reason for him to leave.