The door shut behind him. I am alone, again. I wanted him to stay, but I wanted him to want to stay. I want him to feel that way. I want him to realize that when we’re hanging with his friends, it is not us being together. I feel like an outcast around them. They haven’t accepted me. They probably never will. He thinks they have. I miss him every second he’s away. What am I thinking?
Was that a fight? Over a night for us? What if he were to ever find out about Kyle and I, his trusted friend. It was a mistake and it takes everything in my power for things not be awkward when we all do hang out. I am not sure that Kyle even remembers that night. Would Adam ever forgive me? I doubt it. He still brings up that time I called him a girl in front of his friends. I had no idea he was so sensitive.
I have been standing in the middle of the living room for almost ten minutes trying to talk myself into doing something productive and get over my frustration. I guess I will have a bath. So much for productive. I just need to take a minute to myself and collect my thoughts. I start to run the hot water. I need to rationalize my emotions. Maybe I was being too dramatic. Maybe a night with the boys would not be so bad, and, maybe, it would mean something to Adam if I did go. Not tonight. I just want to stay at home tonight and, if that is selfish, then I am selfish tonight.
As the tub fills I grab the book I have been reading, some cheesy romance novel where guys act like men and not little boys. I decide make myself some chocolate milk. My mind snaps back to earlier events. Who leaves in the middle of a fight anyway? ‘Fuck you, Adam!’ I take another deep breath and head back to the bathroom with the sound of my solitaire outburst still resonating in my head.
After undressing, I slid my leg into an almost unbearable, but relaxing, bath water. Well, he did do one thing right. These bath salts Adam had gotten me for a gift are already tingling throughout the one leg I have submerged in the water. This will hopefully be relaxing. I slowly sink into the bath and begin to chuckle at the irony of the same boy who frustrates me to no end is, somehow, actually making up for it with a present he had given me weeks ago.
I do care about him. I remember the first time I saw him. He looked like a total nerd, a cute nerd. He was in his raincoat, a plaid button-down and he was wearing glasses. I did not usually find guys in glasses attractive but the way he was wearing them gave him an approachable charm. They had a way of accenting his soft, brown eyes. I remember staring into them for the minutes leading up to our first kiss. His eyes had a way of making me feel safe. I now know that if I had not gone up to him, our paths would have never crossed. He is not really the go-getter type. I like that about him. Most of the time Adam takes in all around him in an analytical daze. He gets the details. That is how he gets me unlike any other guy I have dated.
The stress is already deteriorating into the shallow abyss of my bath tub. My anger transforming into how much I miss Adam already and how this night would have been better cuddled up on the couch watching television. I would have watched the game here with him, if that’s what he wanted.
Normally it is frightening when my mother likes the guy I am seeing. This time, however, it is comforting. Adam met my parents a lot sooner in the relationship than most and there was good reason. I grew attached to him faster than anyone before. He is thoughtful. When my children upset me, he reminds me why I became a teacher. He tells me about how no one can teach them overnight and that if they never got on my nerves, I wasn’t doing my job. When my sister and I get into a fight, he has a way to explain why we are both wrong without upsetting me. Boyfriends of the past always try to tell me I am right. I know I am not right all the time. I wish he could do that when we fight.
I know he cares about me. Why does he need to spend so much time with his friends? Sure, we spent the past couple nights together but he was at Ben’s every night last week. It would also be another thing if he didn’t drink to the point falling asleep on their couch more than he sleeps in my bed. I know he has his own place but if he can sleep there, he can sleep here with me. I feel like I am being irrational again, or am I? I think I will just read my book and try not to think about this anymore.