by April Marcom
* * *
Sunday. The day before Christmas Eve.
I hated the sun for shining so brightly and the people out in the city for being so happy. I was lying on my bed, the same thing I’d been doing for two days, since that terrible radio program.
Mason’s ring still hadn’t left my finger. It hurt to wear, but it would hurt worse to remove, I knew.
The phone in the hallway rang. No one bothered to answer it. We were all four staying inside the house, not answering the phone, not answering the door. No one wanted to talk about what had happened with Mason, and we all knew that this was the only thing the outside world would want to talk about. I could tell it was driving my mother crazy, but she dealt with it for my sake.
Katy was so angry with Mason, I was surprised she hadn’t gone to Shilling so she could sit and wait for him. She took every opportunity she had to say how much she wanted to sock him in the jaw.
The ringing stopped.
I rolled over and reached under the pillow that hid the rope I’d tied to my bed. My eyes began to tear up, something they did constantly. “I hate you,” I said to the rope. “I hate you!” I stood up and went to get the nail file from the top of my bureau, and began rubbing it against the rope I hated so much. I cried and slashed at it and, more than anything, I just wanted to stop hurting.
How could he do this? How could he say he loved me? How could he be going home to someone else right now?
My bedroom door opened and I pushed the tangled hair away from my face to find Emmaline standing in my doorway. “What are you doing?” she asked me.
“I’m trying to get this rope off of my bed.”
“Hold on.” She left and came back with a pair of sewing scissors. Then she cut through the rope and carried it away, returning empty-handed.
She sat on my bed beside me. “I know how you feel, Alexandra. I know it hurts so bad you think you’ll never be able to smile again, like all you can do is lay in your bed until you die.”
I nodded. “I just want Mason to be here…I want him to love me again.”
“I know.” She reached out to hug me. “But things will get better.”
“No,” I shook my head as my face tensed with pain. “No, it won’t. You don’t understand how much I love him. Did you hear what he said?”
“I was out having dinner with my parents, but Hayden told me about it. He took me out on a date yesterday. I wanted to tell you what happened, but maybe this isn’t a good time.”
I shrugged and turned my gaze toward the window. I knew I should be happy for her. I could only imagine how happy she was, since she’d had a crush on him for so long. But I just didn’t have the energy.
“Well,” Emmaline went to pick up the hairbrush on my dresser and began brushing my hair. “I’m going to tell you the story my mother told me when I was in your shoes a week ago…” I didn’t hear a word she said. I just continued to stare out of my window as she brushed my hair and told the story.
Someone knocked on my door. “Can I come in?” my mother asked, as it began to open.
I offered her the same shrug I’d given Emmaline.
“I hope you’ll come down to dinner tonight, Alexandra. You’ve hardly eaten anything lately. You’re welcome to stay, Emmaline.”
“Thank you, Mrs. Roomer, but Hayden invited me over to his house for dinner. I was going to invite Alexandra to go with me?” Emmaline said.
I shook my head, not even having the energy to answer.
“Hey, Emmaline.” Katy walked into my room and sat on my bed beside my mother.
“Hello, Katy.”
“I noticed you haven’t put your presents under the tree yet,” my mother said to me.
“They’re in my closet. I can’t wrap them.” My eyes began to water. “Mason’s present’s in there and…I can’t bear to look at it.” I hadn’t even put the picture in the frame yet, and I still needed to return the originals to the dancehall. Or maybe I wouldn’t return them. It wasn’t like I would ever need more copies.
“Don’t cry.” My mother put an arm around me. “I’ll take care of the presents for you.”
“Yeah, he’s not even worth it,” Katy said. “Ugh, I hate that guy. I wish he was here right now so I could hit him and throw him out the window. You can’t trust men. I’m never getting married.”
“You can’t judge all men by one man’s mistakes. Your father’s wonderful and there’s plenty more like him out there,” my mother said.
“I should probably go,” Emmaline said. “I’m leaving for Kansas tomorrow and I won’t see you until I get back, Alexandra. So…” She took a small wrapped box out of her pocket and set it on the bed beside me. “Merry Christmas.”
“Thanks, Emmaline. I got you something, too, but…”
“That’s all right. You can give it to me when things are better.”
I waited for her to leave to lie back down and pull the covers over my head, blocking the wretched sunlight out, and cry. Things will never be better.
