If Ever(101)

Unfazed, she wanders through the apartment picking up a stray piece of mail and scoffing at the picture of Tom and I from Celebrity Dance Off. "Well that's not going to happen until you and I have a heart to heart."

"Barbie, my feelings for you are as dead as the plant you left behind."

She looks to the corner at the dusty dried up fern and gasps. "You killed my plant? How could you?"

He wipes his forehead. "Seriously? It's time for you to go." He opens the apartment door, but she ignores him.

"Not until we talk, and I'm pretty damn sure you don't want her—" She flips her hand my direction, as if I'm an annoying gnat that won't go away. "—hearing what I have to say."

I'm an outsider in their battle of wills. Tom has only looked at me once since she arrived. What's going through his mind?

"I think it's fair to assume that whatever you say is a load of inflated drama," Tom says.

She saunters over to him. I desperately want to shove her out. Instead I stand frozen in place.

"Is that what you think? After everything we went through?"

"Barbie, we were history a long time ago. I was just a stepping stone for you."

"Why are you always so difficult?" She runs her fingers over his shoulder and down his arm. "You want me to say it? Fine." She whispers something in his ear that makes Tom go still. He stares at her, speechless. Barbie tilts her head and shrugs.

What the hell did she say? She's pulling him away from me. Who is this woman and why does she have such power over him?

"Tom?" I need him to acknowledge me during this insanity.

But before he can register my voice, Barbie says, "surprise," watching his face for a reaction. "And if you want to know more, you will talk to me. Now." She hikes her purse over her shoulder and steps over the threshold."

Tom is pale and shaken. "Wait!"

She pauses with a knowing smirk.

"I've got to go with her." There's frustration in his eyes.

There's fear in the pit of my gut.

I want to understand, but I don't. What could possibly make him walk away from me? How can everything be normal, then a stranger walks in and suddenly he changes? I muster my voice.

"Please don't leave," I say the words calmly, but my eyes plead with him.

"I won't be long." He passes me without a glance and heads for his dresser and pulls out a pair of socks.

I follow. "What's going on? Who is she?"

"It's complicated."

"I can handle complicated."

Doesn't he see how important it is that he stay and explain?

He glances at me as if battling with what to do when Barbie yells from the other room, "You coming or not?"

"Give me a bloody minute," he snaps. "Where the hell are my trainers?" He digs in his closet and comes up with his running shoes.

He's really going and I can't stop him. My chest tightens. A rush of panic hits. I need him to stay? But how do I convince him? I touch his arm, warm and strong under my trembling hand. "Please don't go."

Tom finishes tying his shoes and turns to me. His eyes are dark and conflicted. "I need to do this. I'll be back soon." He forces a tight-lipped smile that doesn't convince me. Collecting his phone from the dresser, he heads for the living room and grabs his coat.

I'm about to lose it. I realize I'm overreacting, but I can't stop myself. A rush of dread consumes me; I clutch his arm. "Don't do this. Don't walk out on me." I say in desperation.

Barbie waits at the stairs taping her designer boot on the tile. Tom looks from her, to me, and back, as if it's Sophie's choice, then steps toward her. She gives me a smug lip curl.

Tom raises his hands in defeat. "I have to. I'll explain later." He steps into the hall and disappears.

Standing in the open doorway I flashback to when I was fourteen and my father ignored my cries and walked away. Hell, he walked away from me again just last week. I can't deny the overwhelming feeling that another door in my life is closing.

I rush to the window and in a few seconds see them on the sidewalk. Tom's head is down and his hands are sunk in his coat pockets, but Barbie smiles brilliantly and laughs, then links her arm through his as they walk. My heart is in my throat and I choke out a sob.





38





The clock on the microwave changes as the minutes drag slowly into hours. I've checked my phone for messages every ten minutes, making sure the volume's on high. Every possibility and scenario torture me as I wait helplessly by the window.

I envision Tom falling under the gorgeous Barbie's spell complete with her moving in and him telling me to leave. I shake my head to clear away the dismal thoughts. I'm sure I'm wrong. I have to be.

My head aches, not to mention my neck. I've felt steadily worse all day and I'm not sure if it's because of the deep-seated pain in my heart, or that I'm sick.

The vision of Tom walking away replays itself in my head all afternoon. I'm all alone again. Just like after my dad left. At least I didn't cry and beg like when I was a kid, but the experience still feels eerily the same, heart-wrenching desolation. My throat is tight and I feel hot. I down a couple painkillers and return to sentry duty at the cold window and continue my vigil. He said he'd be back soon. He promised. But it's been hours.