***************************************

I write about the things I'll never know

And I can't find a moment just to slow down

It makes me think I'll never have the chance

To figure out what it's all about

So tell me what it's all about

~Michelle Branch, "Where are you now?"

***************************************

I get back to the apartment and hop into the shower. Afterwards, I don't even bother to change out of my bathrobe. I take to my room, and do more research.

I hear Gordo in the kitchen, getting lunch. But I just sit in my room.

Why do men like hurting women? Why? Is it the rush they get from feeling in control, or knowing they have the power to make or break your spirit.

That's it. No more. No more dating, no more guys, no more future aspirations of marriage or children. I need to concentrate on my career right now, anyway.

Business woman. That's what I'll be.

At about four, Miranda calls. Gordo answers, and I open the door enough to get the phone from him. Turns out, Michael has a business trip to pack for, and Miranda decides to help him pack. Is that what they call it these days?

She asks about my crackling voice. I tell her that I'm coming down with a cold.

************************************************************************

Around seven, I finally come out of my room. Gordo is sitting in the kitchen reading from a magazine, probably the Inform. He doesn't even look at me. He just rises from his chair, folds his magazine under his arm, and marches back to his room.

That's fine. I am in no mood to talk anyway. I quickly grab some chocolate, a big glass of milk, and an assortment of junk food and head back to my room. I fall asleep, and the next morning I wake up and realize that the pain is still there. It hadn't been a dream. My heart really was broken, again.

I wake up before Miranda. I'm not sure what time she got home last night. I head to the bathroom to wash my face. When I look in the mirror, I almost cry all over again. My face is red, blotchy, and puffy, from a hard night of crying. Basically, I look like crap.

I place a cold washrag over my face, trying to erase the blotchiness. I tiptoe back into the room and change.

Leaving the apartment, I take a walk. I need time to think.

Miranda and Gordo never knew about my engagement. I would have told Miranda, had she not have been on a random excursion to Manhattan with a few coworkers, and had the engagement lasted more than three days. Two days, and fourteen hours, actually.

Why hadn't I told Gordo? He was in Cali. In fact, he was at his parent's house, just a few blocks from me. Why hadn't I called him?

Truthfully, how do you tell the guy who you had liked throughout high school, who liked you, and who is your best friend, that you are getting married? Not the most comfortable of scenarios.

I should have told them both about this. Miranda will kill me for not telling her before, and telling Gordo now definitely wouldn't help things at the present moment.

But it had to be done. They needed to know the truth.

Gordo was right about Ronnie. He's always right it seems. I wonder what he wanted to tell me? Why was I such a jerk to him!

After walking a couple blocks, I head back. I wake up Miranda, who reluctantly staggers into the kitchen for some coffee, which I had prepared in advance for her, explaining how I needed to tell her something. I realize Gordo is in the shower, so I knock on the bathroom door.

"Hey, Gordo? Can we talk?" He doesn't answer me, though I know he hears me. "Gordo! I know you can hear me! Can we talk after you finish?" No answer again.

"Gordo!"

"Go away!" he finally replies.

"Will you hear me out?"

"NO! Go away!" is his response, masked by the sound of splashing droplets.

"You have to come out of there some time!"

Only the answer of the shower. I open the door to the bathroom silently as possible. Upon entering, I shut my eyes and place a hand over them. With the other, I pull back the shower curtain.

"LIZZIE!" he shouts, I can only assume reaching for a towel or something to cover with.

"Look, you will hear me out. Get dressed and meet us in the living room in five minutes, or else I'll be back in here without being quite so polite," I turn around and uncover my eyes, exiting the bathroom and slamming the door behind me.