When I finally walked through the gym lobby and let the warm desert evening air hit my face I shut my eyes for a moment, not wanting to know if he was there or gone. When I opened them and saw him sitting on the wall, I felt my lungs fill with air for the first time in days. His hat was backwards, his hair a little longer than normal and tucked behind his ears, curling out from the bill of his hat. He was wearing his long basketball shorts, Nike sandals and my favorite gray T-shirt; his cast, which now boasted a few signatures, was resting on his leg.
I bit my lip a little as I walked over to him slowly. I was nervous, like I was just now introducing myself to this guy who knew me so intimately. It was strange, and I missed the comfort we used to have.
“Hey, you,” I said softly, trying to gauge his mood.
“Hey, yourself,” he smiled faintly, reaching his hand up to take mine and sliding off the wall. He moved into me and kissed me softly. “I missed you.”
I could still see the shimmer in his eye, but it was faded, worn. He seemed tired. Reed walked me silently over to my car, and I felt my hand sweating in his, something that had never happened before. The closer we got to my car, the more worried I was becoming, afraid that the next words from his lips were going to be to break up with me. I was so lost in these thoughts that when he finally did speak, I jumped a little.
“Thought maybe we could get some dinner?” he held my door open for me. “Maybe you could follow me home and then drive? It’s kind of uncomfortable for me.”
I could see that, there wasn’t really a good place to rest his cast, and it looked so heavy. “Of course, I’m starving!” I smiled, trying to hide my worry.
He kissed me again, softly, and shut my door for me and I waited for him to back out to follow him home.
I struggled for something to say the entire trip to MicNic’s. Reed seemed lost in his own thoughts, too. My mind was racing and fighting against the thoughts of our relationship ending, sick with anticipation that his next words would be telling me that we had to move on, apart.
Things were quiet over dinner as well. We sat across from one another in a booth, but at least now we had our food to keep our mouths busy. I let my eyes take in Reed’s cast finally, slightly ashamed of staring at this glaring symbol of his weakness. Sean had written his name and football number on the cast and so had a couple of the other guys, but there was a signature closer to the inside that I was having a hard time making out.
“That’s nice, some of the guys signed your cast?” I said, almost timidly.
“Oh, yeah,” he just shrugged. I wondered if he’d want me to sign it, or if that was even something you offered to do in a situation like this. I felt like a third grader.
He was picking up his drink and leaning back in his seat a little when his cast rotated and I was finally able to see the names hidden on the inside. Tatum. And Calley. I wanted to throw up right here all over the table. I could feel my heart speed up, and I was pretty sure rage was starting to brew in my toes and crawl up my legs. I had to be cool, because things were not good between us, and I didn’t want to make them worse. But this? This wasn’t ok.
“Uh,…” I stalled, looking for the right words, crooking my mouth to the side and taking a deep breath. Reed just looked at me, shaking his head and wondering what I was going to say. “I’m sorry… but… did Calley and Tatum sign your cast?”
I was being so careful, and I hated that I was acting like this. Almost afraid of him, afraid of making him mad. But inside I was screaming.
Reed rolled the cast a little and looked at it and just shrugged a bit. “Oh, yeah. They were both at my mom’s when I got back from the hospital, volunteering for one of her things. Whatever,” he said as if it was no big deal.
No big deal. Perhaps it wasn’t. Maybe I was making it a big deal in my own mind. Except, he had to know that of all names he could walk around wearing for two and a half months, these were possibly the only two that could break my heart, if only just a little. Instead of confronting him, though, I just swallowed my emotions and tucked them back deep down inside and plastered on my fake smile.
The first few weeks of school went about the same. Reed and I saw each other in the hall and in the two classes we had together. We held hands and he kissed my lips lightly when we parted. But there was no depth. It was as if we were characters in a play, carrying out our parts for a rehearsal, but saving the real emotion. I just didn’t know exactly what we were saving it for.
Reed wasn’t the only one to blame. I was just as much of a zombie as he was, allowing him to ignore me until he had to come face-to-face with me, pretending that it wasn’t bothering me. I just went on with my days and then sat awake until the late hours of the night watching my phone, each night thinking he would call. And then he didn’t. I didn’t either, though.