On The Run: Part Two

Chapter Twenty - "Side Effects"

I heard her say softly, “I’ll be back at three, and then I’ll take you to see Fitch, okay?”

I felt the pang again. Right in the middle of my heart; where it hurt the most.

“Please don’t visit or call or . . . write.”

I said nothing to her, though. I couldn’t. How exactly would I say it?

I crawled back into the bed, stuffing my head under the pillow and wishing with all my might that I’d sleep off and wake up to a very different reality. This one had simply failed.

*

“Chloe?”

I woke up to the sound of knocking.

“Are you up?”

I blinked furiously, my eyes adjusting to the light, which wasn’t much. I picked my phone up off the dresser – 6.37 p.m., it read. For the first time in my life, I’d slept all day long.

Seven missed calls – five from Sarah, one from her office and one from Trey. Why did people always look for you at the times when you absolutely didn’t want to talk, or were completely unavailable?

“Chloe?” The door opened and Sarah popped her head in.

I brushed all my hair off my face, rubbing my eyes with my palms.

“Sorry,” I croaked, “I fell asleep.”

“I see that,” she asked, walking in, as I sat up.

“Did you already see Fitch?” I asked slowly, trying not to give anything away.

My heart was still racing.

Would it ever stop? What was even left of it? How could it even race if it was ripped out of my chest?

“No, I didn’t go. Not today. I was only going to go because of you. Do you still want to go and see him? I could work something out,” she said, sitting on the edge of my bed.

I needed to say it. At some point, she’d figure it out. I needed to say it so that the reality would set in. All I felt was pain; I needed reality.

What was the reality? That I couldn’t see the one person who’d meant the most to me anymore? That the one growing constant in my life had suddenly become inconstant? That Fitch and I wouldn’t be Fitch and I anymore?

It simply didn’t make sense.

“That’s okay,” I murmured, trying to find the words.

“Okay, what’s wrong?” she said, crossing her arms, “You look miserable. Did something happen?”

I avoided her piercing gaze. “We broke up,” I managed to say with as much composure as I could muster.

We broke up.

It sounded foreign. Like it was coming from someone else’s mouth.

“Oh,” she said, “I’m sorry, Chloe. Are you okay?”

I looked up at the concern in her face, “I’m fine.” I tried to curl my lips into a smile, but I just felt like I was wincing, “Really.” At this point, I was trying to tell this to myself.

She didn’t look like she believed me, “What happened?”

What happened? I’d been asking myself the same question over and over. I shrugged, saying nothing.