campbell's guide to the universe

xii. talking

we start ninth grade and we think we are on top of the world. except we are actually at the bottom of the hill, facing an endless uphill climb.

you make new friends; i don't.

you have less time for me now, though.

i spend hours sitting in my room, wondering why it hurts me so bad when you don't pick up my midnight calls anymore.

i'd never admit that to you, though; never tell you how much it hurt me.

it feels just like all those years ago at the pool, when you didn't look back over your shoulder. except now it's stronger; now it tears me apart.

schoolwork gets harder. classes get harder.

i grapple with all this pain, a never-ending ache.

i have no one that i can talk to about anything anymore, so i cry. i think i must cry almost every night, except the ones where i'm so tired i just fall asleep and don't have time to think about anything else.

and then, one night, you answer again.

"hi." you whisper gently.

"hi." i say, pressing the phone to my face.

i'm excited, happy. but that doesn't come across in my voice. i don't think my emotions ever settle in my voice, only creating ripples in the ocean of my soul.

it's midnight. if my parents were to find out about this, i'd be in so much trouble. but it's worth it to hear your voice again.

oh your voice— warm and soft. your voice is perfect. i missed your voice.

my voice, however, is still too high. it settles around me like a blanket, stifling my whole world until you speak once more.

"how are you doing?" you ask. with anyone else, i would say i'm doing fine. but nobody else hears the way that my voice trembles the way that you do.

"i think i'm going to cut my hair."

"really? do your parents know?"

"no. because if they knew, there is no way in hell they would let that happen."

"yeah. true." you pause, and then "i think you'll look great." you seem to whisper that last bit, like you want me to hear it but you don't want the universe to know that news quite yet.

"thank you," i whisper back.

my heart is thumping in my chest, waiting to burst.

"do you want to hang out?"

i'm incapable of saying anything but "yes." how could i not say yes? because all i've been waiting for for months now was to hear your voice again, to wait until you would request my presence to return to your life.

"okay. this friday i'm having some friends over. you should come. what do you say?"

my heart twists in my chest, inching nearer to the moment of combustion. other friends. i don't want to meet your other friends, nice as they may be. i just want to see you. "sure. yeah. i'll be there."

there's a lilt to my voice that i hoped you would notice, but it's another one of those little things between us that goes unnoticed, unspoken.

after good nights and goodbyes are traded, the call ends.

i still flop back on my bed and start crying.