Two>>>Damn You Francie
I get in my car and look at my cell phone laying on the passenger seat. As I pull out of Isaac�s apartment complex, the robot lady, who I�ve named Francie by the way, informs me I have 1 new message. I slam my foot on the break when I hear her voice on my phone. She called! She wants me back! Hallelujah! She is sorry for telling me she thinks I�m a spineless, self-absorbed jackass! She is sorry for replacing the picture of her and I with the picture of her cat! She is- oh. She wants her sketchbook back. She wants me to leave it in her mailbox. She doesn�t want me to conveniently be dropping it off when I know she�s home just so I can invite myself in and ask her to join me for coffee. Her words, not mine. If Isaac�s apartment complex landlord weren�t right there mowing the lawn, I would throw the blasted phone out the window and peel out of the driveway in a fury- trying my best to make tire marks on the ground. But my judgment isn�t that impaired.
�Damn you Francie�� I frown and toss the phone aside.
I start heading home to pick up her sketchbook. She goes to class around 4:15 on Tuesdays so if I hurry, I can catch her and ask for�perhaps a cold drink. That�s less predictable than coffee right?
I walk in through the front door and close it loudly- for effect. My brother Mackenzie is sitting on the stairs taking off his sneakers.
�Hi Tay!� He says to me. �Where did you go the last couple nights?�
I walk up the stairs past him. �Ike�s!� No explanation necessary.
I walk into my room. I am really a pathetic human being. I am 21 years old and still living in my parent�s house. My room is no different than it was when I moved in 6 years ago. My sheets are still navy and yellow plaid. There are still wooden letters tacked over my closet that say J T H. Drawings hang on the bulletin board over my desk. My swirly red skateboard from my skating boarding days resides against the wall by my dresser. There is still a yellow happy face sticker from Walmart over the side of my headboard. It covers the penis carving Zac did several years ago when he was mad I stole his idea for a history project.
I walk over to my desk and pick up Estelle�s dumb art book and tuck it under my arm.
I hurry down the stairs and make it out the door without being bothered by anyone! That is a success in itself.
�Taylor! You just got home- where are you off to!?�
I groan and look at my father standing in the lawn with a hose in his hand.
�I gotta drop something off for someone. I�ll be home later okay?�
He puts the hose into the sprinkler and comes to me, looking me up and down. He looks at the notebook tucked under my arm and frowns at it.
Oh wow. �This isn�t mine. It�s�this is Estelle�s. She�s an artist remember Dad? I guess she had to do um�nude drawings for art class��
He raises an eyebrow at me suspiciously.
�Yep, well she wants me to drop it off to her before class so I should run.�
�Can I expect you for dinner?�
I open the car door, hoping he will get the hint I�m leaving. �I�m a busy man Dad.�
He snickers to himself and starts wandering back towards the lawn.
I resent that. I get in the car, slam the door, again for effect and this time I peel out. I may be scared of Isaac�s landlord, but Dad? Hah.
I frown at the note on her dorm room whiteboard. �Left for class early! If you�re leaving me something (yes you Taylor) just leave it with the RA.� I glare at the whiteboard and take the marker she has velcroed to the door. I use my sleeve to erase her writing. Frowning in deep thought, I think of what would be the most humiliating offensive thing I could write. I grin to myself as I recall a conversation Estelle and I had a couple weeks ago. As always, I speak while I write. �I dreamed of oral sex with my philosophy teacher one night.� I step back and examine it and then add, �No joke,� for emphasis.
Grinning and I put the marker away and walk away. Well I only get about 5 doors away before I run back and erase it. I�m immature enough to write it, but not immature enough to leave it.
�Hey Taylor.
I jump. Dead give away I was doing something I shouldn�t be doing. Damn myself. I look at Estelle�s roommate coming down the hall, Kelly, and smile.
�Hey Kelly. I was just�you know I was just dropping off Estelle�s book for her. She asked for it.�
�Oh well she�s right in here. C�mon in.�
I frown as she opens the door. Inside, is little miss Pinocchio herself laying on her bed, talking on the phone, and laughing. I make a mental note to add �seeing your ex laugh days after you just broke up� to Zac and my list of �worst things�. She looks up and looks at me. I see the utter panic in her face. Usually I would enjoy this. But I�m too angry to right now. She mutters something into the phone and holds it in her lap.
�Hey,� she says to me. The girl lies to me, I catch her, and the best thing she can come up with is hey!?
�Hey� Okay, I�m no better. �Here�s your book.�
�Thanks.�
I nod and start to walk out. I whip back around. �You said you left for class early. Liar. Why would you lie to me? That�s so immature Estelle, it really is.�
�I didn�t realize I was dealing with the Mr. Maturity apparently.�
�Apparently�� I mutter.
�I didn�t want to have to see you. I know you. We�ve broken up before. And if we talk once you start thinking it�s all good again. You start thinking I want you and you should try and use your charm and you actually have a shot again. Well it�s completely over. And you don�t have a shot. So I don�t want to even get those thoughts into your mind.�
I am horribly hurt. Well, mostly my pride is hurt, but I�m feeling pretty hurt myself. I don�t even know what to say- a rarity for me.
�Too bad you don�t know me better after the 8 months we were together Estelle. Too bad I want nothing to do with you either except to give you your perverted book back and get the hell away from you.� I toss the book onto her bed. I am lying between my teeth, but nevertheless, feeling pretty good about it.
I smile cheerfully at Kelly. �Nice seeing you Kelly� And I make me dramatic exit- tramping off out the door and down the hall. Only, she�s supposed to be running after me saying, �What!? You don�t want me? Fine. I�ll stop playing hard to get. I want you Taylor- I want you.�
But the only other person in the hallway is some college girl I don�t know walking around in her rubber ducky pajama pants and matching slippers. With every step I take, I get more and more mad. Every second I have to wait for the elevator makes me more and more infuriated. I refuse to even look at my elevator companion on the way down. I stomp out to my car furiously. Pulling away I can feel I�m about to break.