A/N: Mmkay, this chapter is... not so good. And if I had any common sense at all, I'd revise it and then post it but I'm scared it would never get done that way simply because I'm a little stuck plot wise.
I spent several hours today slogging through my NaNoWriMo story, which is a good 65,000 words long, and I realised just how bad and rushed it is. So, I guess this chapter is partly a break from that and I felt like outputting something instead of reading and taking notes and editing.
Get Gone
I spent two days mourning the memory of her. It sounds ridiculous even to me--especially to me--but I couldn't help myself. She didn't want me. She had rejected me. She needed me to leave her alone. I needed to stay away from her.
Needless to say, I was stunned when I picked up the phone at six a.m. on a Tuesday morning and her frantic voice flooded my ears. "Sean, I need a favour," she said.
"Uh. Hey, El." I was still more than half-asleep.
"Listen to me!" she protested. "This is important, Sean."
"A few nights ago, you were yelling at me to leave you alone, if I recall." I wanted to be angry with her and to have her feel that anger but I couldn't put the aggression into my voice. Later, I was glad I couldn't. I wanted to hurt her for hurting me... but I never would have forgiven myself if I had.
"Yeah, well, this isn't a few nights ago." Her voice snapped me back to reality.
I sighed. "What's up, El?" I tried not to let on how good it was to hear her voice, despite our arguments. Ellie Nash is cocaine to me. I crave her when she's gone and I take her for granted when she's readily available.
"For whatever reason, Tim wants to meet up with you. He says he just wants to learn about other parts of my life, but... oh god, Sean, he knows. He must know." She was nearly hysterical, and I was still trying to wake up and make sense of it all.
"El, how would he know?" I yawned and I felt like I should be more concerned, but honestly, part of me wished he did know. Maybe then he'd reject her. Maybe then she'd feel free to pursue the alternatives.
"I don't know!" she said. "But he must. I mean... You have to say no, Sean. You have to say no and refuse to hang out with him and you have to leave town. I can't see you again or talk to you. You're out of my life. Just please, tell him you're leaving. Tell him you're busy. Tell him that you have five days to live if you have to." She waited a moment for my answer and then I heard her swear under her breath. There was a male voice in the background--Tim's, I suppose--and I could almost hear her force her lips into a smile. "So it was nice talking to you, Ash. Thanks for calling. Next time, not so early though, okay?" She hung up before I could reply.
I glanced at the phone for a moment, trying to make sense of a very abrupt start to the morning, and then I shook my head and gave up, replacing the receiver. Ellie was over-reacting--she had to be.
I missed her already and I had no intention of leaving--not when there were a million questions still to be answered. She wouldn't have slept with me if there weren't still some mutual attraction. She wouldn't have made the first move--she wouldn't have kissed me.
I wondered just how much Tim knew about her. If he knew it all, then he wasn't very good for her. What kind of man would let his wife strip and cut herself and carry on with high school boyfriends? What kind of man would say nothing while she got drunk in the middle of the day? What kind of man would let his wife sacrifice her education on his behalf?
But if he didn't know, was that really any better? It would mean that Ellie had kept it from him or that he hadn't cared to find out. It would mean he didn't love her the way she deserved--the way I would love her.
I sighed and jumped into the shower, too wide-awake to go back to bed. I turned the water as cold as I could stand it, trying to make sense of the questions clouding my brain. Just as soon as I got into the shower, however, I stepped back out. If Tim did call, I didn't want to miss it. I didn't know what I would say, but I wanted to say something. So I settled in and waited for the phone to ring.
But... part of me wishes I'd done what she asked. Part of me wishes I'd given up and left Toronto and left her life forever. Maybe I was making things worse for her. Maybe I was making things worse for myself. Maybe I was wrong, and maybe we weren't meant to be together at all.
Maybe I was just turning into an obsessive stalker psychopath. Maybe I didn't love her at all--maybe I just loved the idea of having her. Maybe she didn't even love me.
And maybe the sky is red and unicorns live on Mars.