Skin | Deep by Michelle Hanson

Author:Michelle Hanson [Hanson, Michelle]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Fearopoly
Published: 2018-08-29T23:00:00+00:00

CHAPTER | THIRTEEN

AFTER A VERY LONG day at the station, I arrived home to find Abi’s side of the closet empty. Movies from our DVD collection were missing from the shelves. But all of the bowls and glasses, pots and pans, and pieces of furniture were still at the house. Either she didn’t care to play “this is mine” with insignificant items, or she would save the notion of co-ownership as an opportunity to argue over the washer and dryer at a later date.

Seeing the half-empty closet—and knowing that Abi wouldn’t be coming home—I was forced to face a reality of my own making. I sat alone in the living room, my heavy feelings blanketing themselves around me, and I stared into the air. There was no noise to keep me company. The only friend I found solace in was my gun, perched on the arm of the couch.

As I sat in silence, the sun slowly fell past the horizon. Tones of dark orange and deep purple cast through the living room window and danced across the floor. I stared at the colors all evening until they faded into a rich black.

I turned on the lamp beside the couch and noticed my cell phone on the end table. I needed to call Abi. I needed to talk to her and see how she was doing. I wasn’t going to beg for her to come back, though part of me wanted to. I didn’t want to be alone on a Friday night—or any other night— but I couldn’t manipulate Abi’s feelings just for my benefit. That part of our relationship was over.

With a deep sigh, I picked up my phone and called her. Little to my surprise, it went straight to voicemail. It was probably for the best; texting seemed cowardly, but I wasn’t emotionally strong enough to brave a full conversation.

“It’s me,” I said into her voicemail and paused. I should have thought this through before I dialed her number. I didn’t know what to say, only that I needed to say something. “I see you got your stuff.” Another pause. “I called because….” I paused again and sighed. A million reasons raced through my head, and all I had to do was grab one. But I couldn’t do it. I couldn’t swallow back the tears to tell her I was sorry. “…I wanted to see how you’re doing. Things kind of got out of hand last night,” I rambled. “I think we should talk—clear the air between us.” I paused again. “I’ll be at Bento’s on Sunday if you want to meet me. Around noon?” Bento’s was a casual restaurant that didn’t get a lot of business, even on a Sunday. It would be a quiet place for us to talk on neutral territory. “I’m sorry, Abi,” I finally said through a thick coat of tears. “I really am.”

With nothing left to say, I ended the call.

Fast forward to Sunday, and here we were—two strangers who knew everything about each other, blankly staring at each other.

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