Author's Note: Note to self: do not cry at how cute delfines rosados are...
I can't.
Day Fifty-Eight: How by Maroon 5
He knew he hadn't found her yet.
His mom told him he'd know when he met her.
He wasn't too sure about what she had meant when she said that. Was he supposed to know by her smile? Her touch? Her kiss? Was it supposed to be life-changing? Was it supposed to be the kind of kiss you don't think much of until you realize how special it was? Do you just…know it when you see her?
He never really thought about what she had told him. Not until now, after her funeral. He found himself replaying every single conversation he could recall they ever had in vivid detail. He felt stupid now that he didn't care more when she was still alive. He felt dumb that he…took her for granted though she did so much for him.
He didn't quite understand what romantic love was. All his life, he never had one solid, steady girlfriend. But if his mother wanted that for him, he didn't mind if he died trying to find it.
He pulled out a book from the shelf in front of him. He was at this old book store his mother always liked to go to when she was still alive and well. He smiled as he thought of her telling him about the old, dusty, aged books.
He was hoping from some kind of sign from her as he opened up an old copy of The Catcher in the Rye, one of her favorite books. She always kept a copy of it on her bedside table. He remembered asking her if she ever got bored of the book, but she claimed she never did.
He heard a laugh from behind him. It almost sounded like his mother.
That laugh was all he heard. He turned around and saw a pretty brunette with her friend. The petite, doe-eyed girl beside her was cute, but the girl who had laughed was…stunning.
He had a nervous feeling wracking through his entire being. He was scared for her.
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Her eyes had never looked so tired before, in all the time he had known her. She shook her head. "No, nothing's wrong," she answered before turning away from him.
He felt insulted that she would sell him such a blatant lie. He wished she'd just say it.
"Don't tell me that, Spencer. You're scaring me."
It reminded him so much—too much—of how his mother acted before she got really sick. She looked tired all the time. But she said she was fine. And then, it left him feeling stupid that he hadn't noticed anything was wrong earlier, before it was too late.
"Toby, I am fine," she said slowly and firmly. "I'm just…tired. I haven't slept in what feels like forever. I'll be fine tomorrow."
It was a lie again.
"Spencer—"
"Toby!" she snapped. "I'm fine," she said through gritted teeth. "Please just go." She turned around, away from him.
He contemplated leaving now. But he just couldn't leave. He loved her. He wouldn't leave for anything in the world.
"No. I'm not walking away," he answered in a voice just as firm as hers.
She was still for a minute. Finally, she turned around.
"I just want to know what's going on with you. I'm scared for you. You're acting just like my mom did before she died," he said.
She sighed as she thought about it. She avoided looking him in the eyes. "I have arrhythmia," she said quietly. "I haven't told you this whole time because…it never really mattered. A lot of people have arrhythmia and they never even know it. My arrhythmia isn't so severe that I need a pacemaker or anything. But lately I haven't been feeling well," she murmured.
"Did you call your doctor? Isn't there something they can do?" he asked. The room started feeling hot and he began to feel faint.
She nodded. "He said there's not much they can really do. He gave me some drugs to take, but it doesn't really seem to be doing anything for my fatigue."
He bit his lip. This felt all-too familiar and he wanted to cry. "So what does that mean?"
She shrugged. "It could mean nothing. It could mean everything. I don't know. It's probably nothing, though," she said softly. "I'm tired, Toby. Can I go now?"
"Where are you going?" he asked.
"To sleep," she answered.
He looked at the clock. It was still sunny and bright outside. "It's only three, Spencer." The worry in his voice was just getting heavier and heavier.
She didn't have an answer to that. "I'm still going to bed."
It was quiet for a minute. "Can I come with you?" he inquired finally.
She contemplated saying no. But seeing the scared look in his eyes, she finally nodded. "Sure."
MizzIsTheFizz: Yeah, my school is an independent school and we have a different vacation from everyone else in NYC. It's weird. I had mine at the end of March. The only field trip I've been on this entire year was London (which is a pretty good field trip, so I'll take it). I procrastinate all day every day. I spell like a Brit (obviously I write favourite and flavour and favour and colour and stuff like that...except in my stories, they come up as misspelt. But I use the British spellings like synaesthesia and anaemia and haemorrhage). And my grammar isn't horrid like a lot of Americans I know :) Thank you!
AL3110:Show me the way! Oh, and I can't even remember what my dream was about. it'll come back...remind me to tell you what I dreamed about on Saturday and it'll come back. Oh! I remember! Just remind me about Spencer and Toby! I had a weird dream about them!
Sarah:I liked it. And gee, that is way deeper than my thought processes go. I'm just...dense, basically. Like, everyone thinks I'm smart. I think I'm sort of smart, but...no, who am I kidding? I'm dense. As a penny. And pennies don't float. I personally kind of like "Small Bump", but then again, I've never heard any of the songs. And thanks. I'm glad it made you smile :)
LittleBittyAbby: I just assume because she was nuts? IDK. I literally could not do it. Sometimes I don't even know why I'm so fat, but then my grandma makes spaghetti and meatballs and I remember. I can eat like seven meatballs. But I don't have nearly as much sugar as they do, so that's why I'm like wtf. But I also don't really eat vegetables. But I could eat raspberries and strawberries like it's my job. They're my favourite. I swear, I eat one carb and it all goes right to my stomach and my thighs and wherever. I really envy those people with fast metabolisms. My friend Amanda can eat like three Big Macs with large fries and soda and not gain any weight. I'm just like how.
tobyequalshottness: I felt a little bit calmer just writing it. It was like my happy place. Yes, watching Spoby be cutesy and all. What am I doing with my life? Anyway, thanks for reviewing!
So I am doing some stupid history assignment and taking advantage of the fact that I share the name of a lovable, friendly, big, red dog everyone loves. This is my life, basically.
So my story of the day today is about my "mystery". Ooh, not that mysterious.
Okay, so there was this girl and I totally don't remember her name. I think it was like Sasha or Sarah or something. IDK. Anyway, she was a dancer and she was so happy because she won a dance award or some shiznit. Anyway, she gets this trophy and it's so pretty and sparkly and oh my god, everyone wants it. Especially this other girl who is like really jealous and I hated her and I may or may not have modeled her after this girl who bit me in the first grade who was named Hailey who I really hated. Oops, I wasn't supposed to mention names. Oh well. So the trophy is stolen! Oh my God! And everyone thinks that the girl, whose name was like Lucy or something (funny how it seems everyone had the name of someone from the PLL cast), did it. But it was really Sasha's little brother, Jason (ha ha ha with this irony). He was just jealous because Sasha was getting all the attention. Boys.
Oops, I just realized that I was supposed to tell you about the harry Potter stuff. Guess I'll tell you on Wednesday! Sorry guys! I'm seeing Wicked tomorrow (read: where is Sarah so I can fangirl over it with her?) -Kayson