Notes From Last Night

Chapter Twelve - Quick Fixes

I got out of the apartment building and couldn't see her. I had to think for a minute which way she would've went, but eventually guessed on the direction that her own apartment was in, praying she hadn't quickly hailed a cab. After rounding a couple of corners I was relieved to see her, power-walking away in the distance.

"Melissa!" I called after her but she didn't turn round. "Wait up!" I tried again, just on the off chance that she hadn't heard me and wasn't ignoring me deliberately. Wishful thinking, I know.

I started to run again, this time noticing how cold it actually was. What little snow we'd gotten had gone now but it was still technically winter and I was just out in a t-shirt. It was a miracle that it wasn't raining in Seattle for once.

I finally caught up and fell into step alongside her, catching my breath as I spoke.

"Melissa . . . can't we talk about this?"

"What's the point?" She asked, keeping her eyes forward. "You've clearly already made up your mind that I'm some sort of drugged up slut!"

"Well I didn't say that," I pointed out.

"You didn't have to!" She yelled. I should have known not to say that out loud. "The look on your face was enough!"

"Well can you blame me for freaking out?" I asked. "You have to admit that it looks pretty bad!"

"Yeah but you didn't even let me explain!" She sobbed. I hadn't noticed the tears running down her face until now. This was heartbreaking to see.

"I'm letting you explain now!"

"It's too late, David!" She was literally bawling her eyes out now. "I thought you were different to everybody else but you're not! You're judging me, just like everybody else does!"

"Look," I sighed, stepping in front of her now so that she was forced to stop. She quickly tried to sidestep me but I blocked her off again. If anyone was watching this then it would've looked pretty bad, but I didn't care right now. "I fucked up, ok? I know that. I should've let you explain it to me. I can't change that now but I'm here! And I'm not letting you go home until you tell me what's going on."

I'd never been so demanding before. But then I'd never been so regretful of something either.

Melissa wiped her running mascara and looked up to the stars as if the answer was written in them. Finally she looked at me and asked "Are you actually willing to listen or are you just trying to make yourself feel better?"

A little bit of both . . .

"I want to hear what you have to say. I want to understand whatever this is."

She looked back to the stars she'd been reading before turning her attention to my shivering arms.

"Let's get inside first," She sighed. I smiled then, even if she didn't.

*

Ironically, the nearest open building was the bar we'd met at just a couple of nights ago.

I asked her if I could get her a drink and she told me to just get some water while she went to the bathroom.

"To freshen up, by the way," She said in a clipped tone. "Not to smoke crack or anything."

I probably deserved that.

As bad as I felt for not letting her explain herself, a part of me was really annoyed that she'd flipped out as well. I mean, how else are you supposed to react to that situation? Hopefully once she came back from whatever the hell she was doing (in fairness, her make-up was a mess now thanks to the tears) I'd get an explanation and we could put this whole debacle behind us. Finally, she joined me at the same table we'd sat at before. I hoped she was a sentimental girl. She at least thanked me for her drink.