Crazy Girl(18)
When she returned to the living room dabbing her face with a paper towel, I didn’t think before I spoke and in hindsight, I wished I had. “Did you just move in or something?”
I could only describe what she did next as herding. Stretching her arms out, she closed in on me, causing me to step back. She herded me out of the house by taking the door and closing it so she was wedged between it and the doorframe, limiting my view inside. “No,” she answered simply. No, she wasn’t weird at all… I waited a moment, thinking she’d offer some explanation, still somewhat thrown by how she’d managed to move me so effectively before I even realized it had happened, but she didn’t add anything more. Instead, she bobbed her head once and said, “Thank you for being so nice to me after…” she motioned one hand haphazardly, “after I left the bar that way,” she finished. “I appreciate it.”
“Um…yeah,” I snorted. “It was a bit of a rough night, huh?” I couldn’t seem to stop giving her more chances.
Lowering her head for a moment, she raised it and met my gaze. “Be safe getting home.” Now who was the one avoiding answering questions?
I stood there, watching her, not realizing how awkward it was. She was telling me to get the hell out of there, and I was just standing there like a goon. I knew that was my cue to leave, that it was time for me to hit the road, but something kept me from moving. I didn’t want to go. Why in the hell wasn’t I hauling ass back to my truck and hightailing it outta there?
I didn’t want to leave her.
But that was crazy.
When I didn’t move, she cleared her throat, which snapped me out of it.
“Right, yes,” I blurted as I raised a hand to wave. “Rinse those eyes some more. Or something…” I started to walk backwards away from the door, giving her the chance to ask me to stay longer.
“I will. Thanks again.” Nope. She waited until I was down the steps before she shut the door. Turning, I made the last few steps to my truck and hopped in.
As I backed my truck out of her driveway, I felt something knotted in my stomach. I told myself it was guilt…that I was a good guy and was just worried about her because that is what a decent person would do for anyone. The girl didn’t look well. She couldn’t even completely see straight yet. Her bloodshot eyes gave her the appearance of someone who’d cried for hours, though I knew that wasn’t true. One minute she was cordial, and the next she was flipping out. I felt bad for her.
And maybe it was that…in part.
But it was more.
I liked the crazy girl.
“Writers aren’t exactly people…
They’re a whole bunch of people trying to be one person.”
-F. Scott Fitzgerald
I’d hit a new low. I stared at myself in the mirror that hung on the back of my bathroom door. My sight was a bit hazy, but not so much that I couldn’t make out the mess of a woman staring back at me. My hair was frizzed, curled on one side and knotted on the other, my eyes red and swollen and my eyeliner smeared everywhere. Absolutely ridiculous. There was no other way to describe it. Taking my cell phone, I video-called Courtney. It rang a few times and when she finally answered and caught sight of me on her screen, her head reared back. Her bright hair was tied up in a messy knot on her head and her teacher-glasses were perched on her nose. Now she looked relaxed. Not at all like the hot mess that plastered her phone screen. She started to laugh, but stopped short before creasing her brows in concern. God, I was pathetic.
“Uh…are you okay?”
“Do I look okay?”
This time she couldn’t stop the snicker she let out. “No,” she answered honestly. “You look like shit.” Like I said, she was the brutally truthful friend.
“I’m well aware, Court. I video-called you because I needed you to actually see what a disaster tonight was. I’m not cut out for this dating business.” I explained in great detail the events that transpired, earning several winces, face scrunches, and the sound of her sucking air through her teeth in pity for me throughout. By the time I finished, I had washed my face and tied my hair up. And though I knew she sympathized, she was also going to let me have it.
“Hannah,” she sighed my name. “Why in the hell would you take mace with you?”
“For protection,” I answered with a “duh” tone. “I didn’t’ know this man. What if he was a serial rapist or something?”
“I agree you should always be cautious, but Hannah…you were meeting him in public.”
“I took it…just in case. I don’t know. I didn’t put a lot of thought into it.”
She rubbed her forehead, exasperated by me. “So you basically got drunk, verbally vomited your baggage, and then walked out on him on the first date?”
Well, that was one way of putting it. I didn’t agree. I had just lay down and propped my phone up so she could still see me before I continued. “He was being a flake.” My voice rose in defense. “I got mad, and I decided to have a drink or two before he got there. I thought it would chill me out, but…I don’t know.” I closed my eyes as the embarrassment flooded me. They still burned like hell. “It doesn’t matter. I’ll never see him again.”