Page 84 of Huge Dynamite
Crap. I need to play back the messages on my home phone. I’ve been dreading this for weeks, but here goes. The movers will be here in two days, and I need to have all of this cleared up. Plopping down on the hardwood floor next to my rolled-up rug, I prop my hands behind me and drop my head back. I’ve had the ringer turned off and the volume turned down for almost two weeks now, which means there are probably close to seventy messages from my mother alone. Crap. This is the last thing I want to do, but it’s time to put on my big girl panties and just listen to the messages. I’ve been answering my texts, so everyone knows I’m alive—but that’s all I have the energy for. Well, that and packing.
Stretching my legs out, I kick a box labeled “Stuff” and let out a long sigh.
Looking around at all of the packed boxes, I can’t help but wonder if this is how it’s going to be now—a life of wandering, never really knowing where I belong or who I am.
Here goes. I press the playback button, and the weird-sounding automated voice says,Message one.
Followed by,Holly?Crap, it’s Mom.
Holly, it’s your mother again. I have been calling you all day on your cell. You’re ignoring me.
Bending my knees, I wrap my arms around them and bury my face in the crook of my elbow. “I’ve been texting you, Mom,” I mumble to the machine.
Texts don’t count.
“Mom?” Lifting my head, I look around jokingly. “Are you here?”
Your father took time out of his busy practice to go looking for you. The least you can do is call.
“What? I didn’t see Dad,” I say to the machine, like I’m having a conversation with my mother. Furrowing my brow, I wrack my brain, trying to think of a time when my father could have been here. I’ve been home for the past two weeks. How could I have missed him? Maybe he stopped by when I was at the gym or grabbing food? Huh.
Message two.
Hello, Holly.
Oh, crap, Robert.
I don’t know where you are or what’s going on, but the hospital says you gave notice? Why? Does this have something to do with me?
“No, Robert, not everything has to do with you.”
Or that little clinic? Holly, it’s time to grow up. What’s going on? Call me.
Sighing, I roll my eyes at Robert’s message. “Grow up? If you only knew what I’ve been through, you jerk.”
Message three.
Holly.Cripes, it’s Robert—again.
What is this I hear about you moving back east? What can the east coast possibly have to offer?
“A job, Robert. And a hell of a lot of miles between us.”
Message four.
“You know what?” The conversation I’ve been having with my answering machine seems to be working for me, so I keep it going. “I’m going to finish with you later.”
Clicking off the machine, I take a much-deserved break. I just can’t listen to any more. I need some space. And wine. It’s apparent that the only way I’m going to get through this is with wine.
Looking across the floor, I eye my fridge. It normally houses my yogurt and bottles of water, but right now, it’s stuffed with a single bottle of chardonnay and a couple of beers I threw in there in the hope that Seth would someday stop by and I could offer him one.
The thought of Seth sends excitement through my body, but when I realize I’ll never see him again… Screw it. There’s no time for moping. I’ll crack open the bottle of wine and save the beers for the moving guys.
There’s only one problem with my plan—wine glasses. Who the hell packs wine glasses two days before her move? Rookie mistake. Wine glasses are thevery last thingto pack. Every single woman knows the last three things to pack are: toothbrush, cell phone, wine glasses. In that order.
Chuckling to myself, I dig through one of the already well-packed cardboard boxes sitting by my door marked, “Kitchen. Fragile.”
“Yes! First try.” Pulling out a wine glass, I pump my fist in the air, celebrating my little victory. I’ve been feeling so down since Seth and I parted—again—I’ll take any victory I can get. Now, all I need is to be lucky enough to find the opener.
