Lost in You

I realize I haven’t eaten since the night before, not that I know what time it is now, but I’m starving. We sit across from each other, each with our own plate and a glass of milk. I devour mine, while she picks at hers. I snatch one off her plate before she can slap my hand and stuff it in my mouth. This is the only time I get sweets like this; my mom would never dream of baking anything.
    Mr. Ross comes in and sits down across from me. Dylan rolls her eyes at him. She gets up and moves to the sink, taking her coveted brownies with her. Mrs. Ross joins us, choosing to sit down next to me. Mr. Ross clears his throat and lays his hands on the table.
    “Officer Daniels was a bit out of line when he punched you. I’ve always treated you as if you were my own and I expect my department to do the same. Today they treated you like every other teenager we deal with when it probably wasn’t necessary. We should’ve re-evaluated and listened to what you were telling us. I’m sorry, Ryan.”
    “Okay.” I say, not sure how to respond. I’ve never had an adult apologize to me before, but I’ve also never had an adult hit me either. Today was a whole slew of firsts for me. “Thank you,” I add for good measure.
    “What happened to your neck?” he asks. My hand instantly goes to my neck and rubs it. My skin is raw and hurts to touch. I pull my hand away and shake my head. “What about your chin?” I look down at my empty brownie plate to avoid answering.
    His chair scrapes the floor and before I know it, he’s on the side of me. He bends and kisses Mrs. Ross on the cheek and sets his hand on my shoulder. “You don’t have to tell me, I can figure it out by the look on your face. You’ll stay in the guest bedroom until you’re ready to go home.” He pats my shoulder one more time before walking away. I jump slightly when the front door slams shut.
    “You know where everything is,” Mrs. Ross says as she gets up, but not before placing a kiss on my cheek. The way she treats me makes me realize how inept my mother is with her feelings, but then again, she did call Dylan and ask her to come pick me up, so maybe there is some hope.
     
    The bed is a welcome comfort, much softer than the one I have at home. I helped paint this room last summer. Dylan calls it bleached green; her mom calls it sage.
    I lean back, rolling over on my side to look out the window. The dark sky is settling in even though it’s not yet dinnertime. It’s only going to continue to get dark this early. I hate winter. The cold, dark nights leave so much to be desired. Thoughts of the last few days replay in my mind as I focus on the swaying tree outside the window. The pictures of Hadley, the way she told me she loved me, the car. It all seems like a blur, like a dream really. I close my eyes and wish that when I open them I’d be holding her, her skin pressed against me, my lips finding hers in the dark. I want to be back in the car, holding her and not saying no, not holding back from what we both wanted so desperately.
    I pull out my phone and try Hadley again. My text sits there, not delivering, staring back at me. Her picture mocks me; she’s smiling, but I’m not. I don’t want to believe that I can’t reach her, that we can’t at least text. I don’t want to believe that she’s made it impossible for us to talk. Why would she do that? I close my eyes and fight the tears. I will not cry. I won’t. I’m not an emotional person and I’m definitely not starting now. I guess that’s a trait I’ve learned from my parents. No emotion so people don’t think any less of you.
    I roll over and scream into the pillow, my fist pounding into the bed. I’m trying to be quiet, but know they can hear me. Why did she leave me? Tears stream down my face. I wipe them away angrily, unable to stop their flow. I’m not supposed to cry. Guys don’t cry. Yet here I am, crying like a damn baby because my girlfriend just dumped me.
    She dumped me.
    I say the words over and over in my head and don’t want to believe them. My body hurts. My hand rests on my chest, my fingers tugging at my shirt trying to ease the pain. She’s gone and there’s no saving our relationship. She left me. She left me behind after promising me so much.
    I shouldn’t stay here. I should go as planned. Leave when I turn eighteen. I have enough saved for a bus ticket. Yeah, that’s what I’ll do. I’ll go to New York and look for her. Age won’t matter then.