I'll Be Here

whispering even though there’s no one else around.
    I just nod my head as best as I can manage and throw the wadded paper towel that I’ve been clutching into the trash.  Macie’s eyes feel like hands on my back as I walk out of the bathroom and down the deserted hall.  
    The rest of the afternoon is a blur.  I stare vacantly at the board during Spanish and when Mrs. Freeman asks me to explain the answer to number twelve I don’t even know what page of the book we are supposed to be on.  I am too preoccupied with the mess in my head.
    I try to remember every time that I ever saw them together.  Ever. 
    I start a list.
1.       There was the time that Dustin drove her home from school junior year.  Taylor’s car had a flat tire and she needed a ride home.  Her house was on the way to Dustin’s house.  It seemed innocent enough at the time.
2.       Once, when Dustin and I were first dating I found out that their families had gone out to dinner together.  They’d shared one of those big tables at a Japanese steak house.  It bothered me at the time but Dustin told me that their fathers had a business arrangement and I was acting “clingy and jealous.”  I didn’t want to be that girl so I dropped it.
3.       They played tennis occasionally at the club where both of their families were members. 
4.       Last summer, the twins let it slip that Taylor and Dustin had kissed in the sixth grade.  Apparently, it was just on a dare and nothing came of it and Taylor called him “slobbery.”  Still, it irked me.
5.       When we dressed as the Spice Girls for Halloween Dustin had told Taylor that she “looked hot.”  He had said the same thing to me so I hadn’t been too annoyed at the time, but looking back, should a good boyfriend say that anyone but his girlfriend looks hot? 
    And so on…
    By the time I get to my car in the parking lot, the list reaches to thirty-four.  It might as well reach to two hundred. 
    The hurt begins to soak in.  It seeps through my clothes and chills my skin.  I remember the phone conversation I’d had with Taylor.  Am I the dumbest girl in the world?
    Of course she didn’t think it mattered whether or not Dustin was with someone else!  He was with her! 
    I need to talk to Dustin.  The idea starts out like a small seed—a tiny black pumpernickel seed on the crust of my brain, but by the time I’ve found a parking spot downtown and locked my car door, it’s sprouted into a full-blown plant.  Wait.  Is there such a thing as a pumpernickel plant?
    Ack!  It doesn’t matter!
    The point is that I have made a decision to be a freaking adult and call Dustin.  If you look at all the stories about break-ups it always works about better for both parties when they stay civil and friendly.  Look at the cordial and incredible harmony of Demi Moore and Bruce Willis versus say, North Korea and South Korea.  I’m guessing that Bruce and Demi didn’t just happen.  It’s a matter of communication.
    I swallow hard and pace back and forth between two parking meters going over and over the things that I intend to say.  There’s about ten minutes before I need to be to work so I sift through my purse and grasp my phone.  My fingers fumble twice, but I take in a large gulp of air and do it.  I’m calling.  
    The ring is cut off and before Dustin can even muster a “hello” and I can lose my nerve, I launch into my quasi-prepared speech.
    The phrase “love of my life” may in fact cross my lips and yes, that isn’t exactly holding my cards close, but I can’t help it as words nervously spill out of me.  Dustin’s completely quiet the entire time, letting me do all the talking and I’m shaky and breathing hard and not sure how to interpret his lack of conversation.  
    “Ummm…  okay?”  I finish.
    “No it’s not okay ,” says a voice, decidedly female and un-Dustin like.
    All the air whooshes out of me.
    Oh. My. God.
    It’s Taylor.  My friend.  My enemy.  My frenemy. 
    It’s Taylor who answered the phone and it was Taylor that I just bared my heart to and now it’s Taylor that’s saying things that I don’t want to hear.  La-la-la.  It’s Taylor calling me all kinds of names and warning me to stay the hell away from her boyfriend.  The irony is not lost on me but I can’t think of a good retort so I just hang up. 
    And then I stand in the center of the sidewalk feeling a bit shell-shocked and