Wait For It by Michele L. Rivera

Author:Michele L. Rivera [Rivera, Michele L.]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Published: 2016-03-27T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter Sixteen

The following week crept by at an insanely slow pace. I mechanically made my way through each day. I immersed myself in my routine of waking, showering, working, running, showering again, eating, and sleeping. Abby left me a voice message on Wednesday, breaking the monotony, and I’ve since listened to it seventeen times if my calculations are correct. I did not return her call though because I had nothing to say and too much to say all at once. However, I sent her a text because I wanted her to know that I received her message and that I was, in spite of my internal feud, thinking about her. Incessantly.

It is now seven minutes to five on Friday evening. Seven minutes and then I get to leave my job at the Community Aging Center for the weekend. Seven minutes and I’m off to see Abby for our third date.

I stare at the stack of folders on my desk, each containing the individual progress reports of every participant at the center that I have to keep updated. I drum my pen against my forehead, and like any mentally sound person, I talk to my paperwork. “Do I tell the girl I’m dating that I had sex with my girlfriend? If I’m having sex with my girlfriend but I don’t really want to be having sex with my girlfriend, should she even be my girlfriend?” I wait for the manila folders to answer me, but they don’t. “If I plant bird seed, will I grow birds?” I josh and then laugh sadly at myself. I have got to stop conversing with animals and inanimate objects. Typically, I would ask Elle these questions, but I’ve been avoiding her. I am afraid that I won’t be able to stomach her and her knack for the science of reasoning. Besides, I’m in my thirties, I should totally be able to sort this out by myself…right?

I nod and pull up the left sleeve of my cerulean colored cardigan to check my watch for the time. The hands are not ticking…because I’ve been awesome at neglecting to replace the dead batteries in it. For fuck’s sake. “Get your shit together, Parker,” I grumble. “You’re in your thirties, remember? We just covered this.”

I glance at my computer screen. The clock in the corner reads 5:01 p.m. Showtime.

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