The next time I opened my eyes was the next morning, at almost noon. I yawned and looked around Miranda's room, for a minute forgetting why there was this huge weight on my back. Then the events of the previous day all came flooding back to me. It felt like months since I was at the Digital Bean talking to Ethan. It felt like yesterday had been a million miles ago.
I sighed, wondering what I was going to do today. I was going home after dinner, my parents were picking me up, so at least I could sleep in my own room tonight. I knew I'd have to get out of Miranda's bed sometime, so I might as well do it now and get it over with. I climbed off the bed and slipped my feet into my slippers. I was still sleeping in the clothes I'd worn all day yesterday, but I didn't care. I just didn't feel like changing. There was no point.
Miranda walked into the room, already dressed and showered, and probably already haven eaten breakfast. "Well, look who's awake," she said in this really weird tone, kind of a forced cheerfulness mixed with extreme sympathy. "Are you doing any better?"
"No," I replied glumly. "Do you mind if I just hang around here today, Miranda? I knew we had plans to go to the mall with your family, but you guys can go and have fun."
"Of course you can stay home," she said, still talking quietly. "Are you sure you don't want me to stay with you? Are you gonna be okay?"
"I'll be fine. I just want to have a day to mope around, and I don't wanna have to drag you down with me," I lied. I did need a day to myself, but I needed to sound like I was still at least halfway emotionally stable.
"Okay, if you're sure," Miranda said a little uneasily. "Well, we'll be back a little before dinner. I'll see you later, then."
I nodded. "Thanks, Miranda. I really appreciate everything you and your family is doing for me. Thank you for understanding."
Miranda smiled. "What are best friends for?" she asked, leaving the room and closing the door behind her. Finally, I was alone, for the whole day.
There wasn't anything I wanted to do or felt like doing, so I decided to try to perk myself up by putting on some music and getting online. Maybe I'd get a nice e-mail from someone that would make me feel better. Maybe Miranda had a few cool websites bookmarked that I could check out.
I signed on Miranda's screen name and opened up her favorites. Just as I was about to click on a jewelry store's website that looked kind of interesting, the phone on her desk rang. I picked it up, wishing I knew who it was, wishing Miranda had caller I.D. in her room.
"Hello?" I asked boredly, expecting it to either be my parents or Miranda's grandmother, who calls every once in awhile from Mexico City to check on Miranda and her mom and dad. Or maybe Miranda was calling to make sure I was still okay. She's such a good best friend.
"Lizzie! You're still there." It wasn't Mom or Dad. It wasn't Abuela Sanchez. And it wasn't Miranda. As soon as I heard his voice, my heart started pounding. I wasn't sure what to think, how to feel, what to say. I was just... there.
"Gordo." I sounded a little surprised, I must admit, but I wasn't expecting him to call. I was expecting him to be so furious with me that he would never want to see my ugly face again. I was expecting him to be spending the day with his new girlfriend.
"We really need to talk. It's important." Gordo's voice sounded gentle, but urgent. I knew exactly what he wanted to talk about and I didn't want any part in it.
"Do you have any idea how I feel right now? I don't think I can talk to you." I was blunt and honest, but I think I came off sounding a little irritated with him. Who was I to feel irritated with him when everything that's ever gone wrong in our relationship is my fault?
"I know how you feel, because that's how I feel too," Gordo said, and I could tell by the way he said it that he meant it. He wasn't just saying things. Of course, I shouldn't have needed to listen to his tone of voice to know that Gordo, my former boyfriend and best friend, doesn't lie about things like that. Especially to me.
"I really don't feel like talking." I think that he could tell that I was crying by now. Not very much, and not very loudly, but still I was crying.
"Don't cry." He could tell, then. I should have known. This was Gordo I was talking to. "Lizzie, I don't know what happened yesterday, and...we just need to talk. If not now, can we talk later?"
"I have to tell you something," I said after a long silence between us. "I don't think I can see you anymore."
"What?" Gordo sounded shocked and hurt, like he'd just been punched in the stomach.
"I've hurt you once, and I don't want to hurt you again," I sobbed into the phone. "I'm so sorry, Gordo. Goodbye." With that, I hung up the phone. Then I signed off and fell onto Miranda's bed and cried. What I said yesterday was wrong-- it is possible to feel worse than I did last night.
About an hour later, the doorbell rang. I'd still been crying, so I wiped my eyes with the back of my hand, tucked my hair behind my ears, and put on a brave face. I walked downstairs and opened the front door. And there he was. I should have known..... that he was going to try again.
"Lizzie, can I come in? We have to talk before you make a decision like this. It's really important that you give me a chance to change your-"
"Gordo, please stop doing this," I begged. "Please! It's useless. If we don't have trust, we don't have anything. I've hurt you enough already. Don't you want to feel better? This is the only way."
"No!" Gordo exclaimed. "The only way I'll ever feel better is if you let me talk to you for five minutes. Please. Just five minutes, that's all I'm asking."
"No," I said flatly. "Goodbye, Gordo." I closed the door, locked it, and turned to go back upstairs, but I didn't make it. I slumped down against the door and buried my head in my hands. I could hear Gordo outside on the porch, ringing the doorbell, knocking, and calling my name. After twenty minutes, he was gone, and I started to cry again.