Not in Love

RUE

Eli woke up at dawn, cursed softly, and gently disentangled from me.

I didn’t pretend to be dead to the world, but made the semiconscious choice to keep my eyes closed and drift back to sleep. The last thing I remembered was his weight dipping the edge of the mattress. He lingered, perhaps looking at me. Then he pushed a strand of hair behind my ear and leaned forward to gently kiss my forehead. Tired, comfortable, maybe even a little happy, I dozed off once again, lulled by the rustle of Eli pulling his clothes back on.

I didn’t wake up until several hours later, when I stumbled into the kitchen and pawed around for a mug and the coffee maker, then stopped in my tracks when I spotted the note, written on my latest unopened IRA envelope.

He’d circled my middle name on the address box (Chastity, the bane of my already plenty-baned existence), and placed three exclamation points on its right, which made my eyes roll and my lips curve. Underneath, he’d written:

Call me if you need me.

And then, right below, scribbled more hastily, as though he’d decided to add something when he was already halfway out of the door:

Call me even if you don’t.

My heart thumped, and I allowed myself to think about the previous night. I waited for the shame to catch up and crash into me, a wave of pure mortification, but it never came. I’d told Eli my worst story. And he didn’t seem to care.

A magnetic pen that read kline in blue letters and usually resided on my fridge sat next to the envelope, reminding me of what I’d have to do today.Content protected by Nôv/el(D)rama.Org.

I called in to work again, this time to take a day off. I got dressed for the record heat, grabbed my car keys, and headed out.