My Paper Heart

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My Paper Heart Page 16

by Vernon, Magan


  "But do you love me, Blaine?"

  He looked away and sat down on the bed, putting his face in his hands. "I don't know." He glanced up at me, his eyes intensely blue.

  "I care about you a whole lot, Libby. You are an amazing girl. You make me happier than I have been in a long time."

  "But." I took another step forward so that I was right in front of him. I looked down, hands folded across my chest. "Do you love me?" I over-enunciated every word.

  He didn't answer. He didn't even look at me. I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand as the tears started to form. "Well, I guess I have my answer."

  He didn't say anything, he didn't even follow me as I walked down the stairs. I didn't look back as I ran from his house all the way back to Aunt Dee's. By the time I got there I was soaking wet, partly from sweat and partly from sobbing almost the whole way home. I had to stop so much, since my tears were blurring my vision.

  By the time I got home it had been almost half an hour since I had left Blaine's. My purse was sitting on the porch. A small note scribbled out on a piece of notebook paper sat on top of it with a simple note reading, call me.

  I crumbled up the piece of paper and threw it away once I got inside. I didn't call him and he didn't call me that night. I went to bed still in tears.

  Chapter 23

  The flight for Chicago left New Orleans at eight a.m. Since it was always a mess to get through the airport, we had to leave the house at four just to make sure we got there in time.

  Blaine was supposed to be at the house by three, and with him always being early I expected him there at quarter till. By the time three o’clock rolled around, he still wasn't there. I didn't call him the night before and he didn't call me.

  Three fifteen hit and Aunt Dee was getting nervous. But I still sat there on the porch swing, waiting for his truck to pull in the driveway, and for everything to be all better. I thought it would be like that night after the Fourth of July. He would just show up at my door, kiss me, and make everything all right. But this time it didn't happen.

  At four fifteen Aunt Dee told me we couldn't wait anymore. She assured me that maybe he was planning on meeting us at the airport, and he overslept or something. She said I should try calling him again, but I still couldn't bear to do it. I didn't even want to hear his voice on his voicemail, so I sent one single text.

  Leaving. I love you and hope that you show up at the airport.

  ∞

  We rode almost in silence to the airport. It was just Aunt Dee and I. She didn't ask any more questions about Blaine, and I was so grateful for that. After my bags were checked and she had to leave me at the terminal, we both looked around one last time. We both knew what we were looking for. It was six-thirty. We would be boarding in about an hour and Blaine still hadn't arrived, or returned my text.

  "Well Libby…I have to get going…I have to get to the shop…"

  Her green eyes were looking all around instead of right at me. I knew what she was thinking, what she was praying. She hoped that Blaine would show up. I half-wondered if she was hoping he would show up more than I did. But she didn't ask anything more about him. She didn't even bring him up. She just finally looked right at me and smiled a tight lipped smile.

  "I know Aunt Dee. I will call you when I get home and promise to be back next Sunday."

  I reached down and hugged her. At full height she came just below my chest, so I had to lean in a lot to make it an actual worthwhile hug. I almost felt comfort in her smell now. The smell of Spanish moss and sweat didn't bother me as much as it did that first night. It lingered like a memory. I never thought I would fall in love in Louisiana, with a person or with the area itself, and it was like leaving home all over again to go back to Chicago.

  At seven-thirty they called for final boarding. I looked around the airport again, hoping maybe Blaine would come running. He would put his arms around me and envelope me in his arms. Telling me that he had overslept and he was so sorry, and then finally say those three little words.

  But none of that happened.

  I took a deep breath and made one last call, before boarding the plane, it went straight to voicemail.

  Hey it's Blaine, obviously I can't come to the phone right now, so do what you gotta do at the beep.

  His voice seemed so far away. It was like I was underwater and he was just standing over me, trying to get my attention. But I couldn't raise my head above it and was just treading below.

  I didn't know what to say in the voicemail. Hell, I didn't even know what I would have said if he would have picked up. So I wiped my eyes and put on a fake smile, leaving the only message I could think of.

  "Hey It's Libby. Um, boarding the plane now. Hope to see you in Chicago. Um, yeah, bye."

  I turned off my phone and boarded the plane, situating in my seat for the ride back to Chicago. Back to a life where I didn't know who I was: Big Bird, sorority princess, or just Libby. In a few short hours I would find out.

  ∞

  My sister, Beth, and I were kind of like Arnold Schwarzenegger and Danny Devito in the movie Twins. She was flawless. She had long blonde hair that was wavy and not frizzy, like mine. Her height didn't gawk people, she was petite, with a face and chest that most women spent thousands of dollars at the plastic surgeon to get.

  When I saw her at the terminal gate she looked more radiant than ever. I think she was one of the few people who I could say that married life had been good to. Last year she had married her longtime boyfriend, Ben, who was almost 10 years her senior and an established chiropractor in the city. Needless to say, he spoiled her rotten. Working as a kindergarten teacher was almost a hobby, since she really didn't need to work. Even at five years older than me, people still always thought she was my younger sister.

  As soon as saw me she squealed with delight and enveloped me in her tiny arms. I think her ginormous breasts crushed my belly button.

  "My, my, Libby, look at you! I think the south has done you some good!" She put her tiny fists on the waist of her designer jeans and gave me the once over.

  Compared to her I probably looked like a bag lady standing there. I was exhausted partly from crying all night, and partly since I had to be up so early. I was clad in nothing more than cropped sweat pants and a tank top. The belly that I had developed over the summer felt like it was protruding over my pants.

  Then of course I had to stand next to the perfectly put together Barbie herself. She sure got dressed up just to pick someone up at the airport: jeans that probably cost more than I made in a week, heels, and a black cowl neck t-shirt. I was actually pretty sure this was her weekend wear.

  "So where is this Louisiana boy you've been raving about?" She looked past me. "Is he back there carrying your luggage for you like a good southern gentleman?"

  "Um…" I bit down on my lower lip, looking down at my sister.

  The truth was I turned on my phone as soon as they pilot announced it was safe to do so, hoping for a message from Blaine saying 'I missed my flight', or 'overslept.' I didn't get either of that. I did get a text from him though, two words.

  I’m sorry.

  That was it. Not a phone call, not an excuse, just those two words. Not the two words that I was really looking for.

  "Libby, this isn't like that Brady Bunch episode where Jan made up a boyfriend is it?" Beth cocked an eyebrow at me.

  I couldn't help but smile at that one.

  "No." I sighed and the smile erased from my face. "It's a bit more complicated than that."

  "Well." She threw an arm around me, which was literally a throw since the top of her head barely reached my shoulders.

  "We can talk about that on the hour ride it's going to take us to get out of the airport."

  I shook my head and forced a weak laugh. Too bad the situation actually wasn't funny.

  ∞

  "So he just didn't show up?" Beth shrieked while she tried to back her Mercedes out of the parking spot.

  I explain
ed, mostly everything, by mostly I mean, not much at all. I told her we had a fight, but I didn't exactly say what the fight was about and neglected to mention anything about the unreciprocated love.

  "Nope, he just left me waiting." I fiddled with the buckle on my seatbelt.

  We were definitely back in the city, this wasn't like small town New Orleans, and I never thought I would miss it so much. I was surrounded by sky scrapers and angry drivers, instead of the willow trees and slow talking locals.

  But most of all I missed Blaine. I wanted him to be there sitting in the backseat of my sister's car. I wanted to look back and see him smile while I pointed and told him what every single building was that we passed. But instead I sat there in silence. Of course, the car wasn't completely silent. My sister not only liked to blare her music, but she also never knew a conversation she didn't like. Even if it was one that was basically with herself.

  On a good day my parents' house was about thirty minutes from the city and forty-five minutes from the airport. Our neighborhood didn’t have the small European style houses of Louisiana. It was the same cookie cutter, suburban homes, and row after row of them.

  After I graduated high school, my parents tried to sell our five bedroom house to move into a condo in the city, but with the economy the way it was, nothing was selling. So it was just the two of them, and of course their French Bulldog, in the big house. Our neighborhood was the same as many of the North Shore community homes. We enjoyed views of Lake Michigan and neighbors with homes in the millions. The homes were modeled after beach houses, since we were walking distance from the beach.

  "Are you sure you don't want to go to lunch? Or even just to come to the house to hang out?" Beth stared at me.

  We had pulled into the cobblestone driveway about five minutes ago, but she had sat there trying to convince me to hang out with her. I really couldn't hide things from my sister very well. Even though we were five years apart, we were still very close. She was always a friend to me growing up. Even though she was always the popular blonde, she always made time for her outcast little sister.

  "Yeah, I'm really tired Beth. You know I had to get up early to make it to the airport and all." It was partly true, I was tired, but more about the fact that I couldn't sleep the night before. I was also hoping that Blaine would call, text, or something. And if he did I didn't want my sister to be around.

  "Alright, well Ben and I will be over in a couple of hours for dinner. Mom's ordering Mongolian!" She yelled out the car window as I got out.

  Mom didn't cook. Googling a new restaurant was her idea of trying a new recipe.

  I ran up to the front door and my sister didn't drive away until I was able to get in. I waved as I securely unlocked the door and pushed it open, thrusting my suitcase in ahead of me.

  The cleaning lady had definitely already been there. The large crystal chandelier that hung above the foyer sparkled onto the hardwood floor and out the large windows. I think you could have fit Aunt Dee's whole house into our foyer and dining room. It was only two o'clock in the afternoon, my parents wouldn't be home until at least six.

  I kind of wished I did have some company. The house couldn't have felt emptier. I shut the door and left my suitcase in the foyer as I headed toward the kitchen. It looked like my mom had remodeled again. This time I guessed that granite was the new black. Granite countertops and stainless steel flooded the kitchen. I felt like I was inside of an industrial warehouse, and with the size of my parents' kitchen it probably could have been one.

  My stomach was rumbling. I opened the fridge, but just as I expected nothing but some condiments and leftover Chinese food. I grabbed a container and smelled its contents. It didn't seem like it was too old and I was sure that the cleaning lady would have thrown it out if it was. I popped the container, which looked like it had some sort of lo-mein in it, into the microwave and looked at my phone again.

  Blaine hadn't called, texted, Facebooked, e-mailed, nothing. I thought about calling my mom and letting her know I was in, but it was Appeals Monday and I knew she would be busy.

  I could hear rumblings from the laundry room. I knew my mom usually didn't let the dog out during the day, but I figured this was a special occasion. I went into the laundry room to see my little French Bulldog up on her hind legs in the cage. Her tongue was hanging out of her mouth as she whimpered.

  Sally, the dog, was a thirteenth birthday gift from my parents. I had begged for a dog for years, but they always said it was too messy, but finally they gave in. When I first saw Sally, I thought she was the ugliest thing I had ever seen. But she grew on me, and grew even more on my dad. Once I left for college she kind of took over as my dad's dog and usually never left his side at night.

  That didn’t mean she wasn't happy to see me. Once I let her out of the cage, she licked my face and pranced her way after me into the kitchen.

  The timer went off on the microwave and I carried the container and a fork upstairs to what was my bedroom. Sally happily following behind me. My mom, or should I say the cleaning lady, had left it exactly as I left it. My sleigh bed was in the center as a focal point with a deep maroon comforter overtaking it. It wasn't the twin bed with the bubblegum bedspread that I had become accustomed to. I took a bite of my lo-mein as I headed toward my balcony.

  We were lucky enough that each of our bedrooms had French doors that led to a small balcony. Of course there wasn't much room for anything else but two people to stand on the balcony. But I enjoyed getting somewhat of a sun tan out there for the past nineteen summers. I looked out and could see that the gardeners were out making sure every blade of grass was mowed and every flowerbed was weeded. It really wasn't fair that they were out there in the heat. I guess that was their job, and I felt like I was kind of abandoning mine. But I was here for a reason, not just because I got in a fight with Blaine, but for Kristi's wedding.

  I walked back into my bedroom and set the lo-mein on the dresser, ironically next to the picture of my parents and me at my first day of school. I took my phone out of my pocket. I sent a quick I’m here text to Kristi and set my phone down.

  I knew she would probably want to go out later, and I knew my parents would want to spend time with me. It really was great that so many people were glad that I was home, but all I could really think about was how much I wished Blaine was with me. So I fell asleep to dream of his blue eyes.

  ∞

  I woke up to the sound of my mom's heels clicking on the hardwood floor in the hallway. I knew it would be a while before she got to my bedroom, but I decided I should at least try and get up.

  Sally was already up before I could even lift my head off the pillow. She happily pounced off of the bed and her little paws padded on the wood floor while she waltzed over to my bedroom door.

  My mom picked Sally up as she walked into the room. After not seeing my mom for a few months she looked different to me. She seemed to have a whole new glow about her, or maybe that was Botox. My mom, my sister, and I all had the same strawberry blonde hair. Except my mom, I noticed, had wisps of gray around her temples, the same shade of gray as Sally's fur.

  I wondered if she noticed them, or if for some reason they matched her Dolce & Gabbana glasses to make her look distinguished. I honestly wasn't even sure that my mom needed glasses, but I think she thought people would take a blonde lawyer more seriously if she had glasses.

  "Hey Libby. Beth called and told me about the boy." She sat down on the end of my bed putting Sally down beside her. "Dad said he's willing to go down to Louisiana and pull him here by his bicuspids if you would like."

  I smiled a genuine smile at my mom. "No, that's fine, I think I can handle this one on my own."

  She reciprocated that smile, showing her teeth that could only be the dream of any dentist. I honestly think that's why my dad married her. She had perfect teeth and he wanted to pass that gene down.

  "Come on, let's go downstairs and see what we can decipher that might be good to order from
this Mongolian restaurant."

  She motioned her hands for me to get up. Life may be confusing, but always leave it to a mother to fix things with humor and food.

  ∞

  Dad got home just as Mom, Beth, and I were getting the table set. Mom and I had to Google a lot of the food on the menu to see what it actually was and after that Mongolian food didn't seem as enticing as we thought it would be. But we settled on some buuz, which are meatballs twisted Hershey Kiss style into ravioli type pasta and steamed boodog, which was goat cooked with hot stones in it. Then we got added rice and a few butter cookies. I thought southern food was weird at first, but this definitely wasn't anything like gumbo.

  "Well I see your mom tried a new restaurant." Dad smiled while he kissed Beth and me on the cheek.

  Dad seemed to have a new radiance to him as well. I was wondering if they both went and got a two for one deal on Botox. My sister whispered that it was because they were having more sex since I was gone. I shuttered at that thought.

  "So Libby, has Elsbury made a southern belle out of you yet?" My dad asked as he spooned some goat onto his plate.

  I winced. Blaine always called me a southern belle. "Um, well I helped Aunt Dee make a praline pie once, so I think I’m on my way!"

  "There are actually women in this family that cook?" Ben, my sister's husband, joked between mouthfuls of food.

  Ben was quite a bit older than my sister, and his age really showed. Physically he was really fit. He worked out I think, more than anyone, and in fact he actually met my sister by taking her spinning class at the gym one summer. But even with his vast knowledge of all things NCAA he still couldn't hide that he just wasn't up on the times. This included his wardrobe. That man owned more pairs of white Reeboks and sweatpants, than anyone over thirty ever should.

 

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