Two Days

Two days had never felt so long. 

He looked at his phone again, third time in as many minutes and the millionth time today, then shoved it back in his pocket. Phones weren’t allowed on the warehouse floor and if the supervisor found it in his hand there would probably be a scolding or a write up, and he didn’t have the patience to deal with that. 

He picked up a pallet with the forklift and lifted it high into the air, setting it on a shelf. The beeping of the machine and the chatter around him faded into the background.

Why was she waiting? Did this mean bad news? He had said no pressure, take all the time she needed to think it over, so that meant he shouldn’t be so antsy and bothered by the wait. 

He ran his hand through his hair. 

They hadn’t talked in three weeks at this point. Maybe she had changed her mind. His heart squeezed in his chest. He took in a deep breath and shook his head. No, she wouldn’t do that. She wouldn’t work so hard to show him she’d changed and she was sorry just to decide against it in the end. 

God this day was dragging. 

Another pallet, another shelf, another assignment chirped into his headset. He thought he felt his pocket vibrate and had to resist grabbing his phone to check. It felt like an itch, waiting to see if her name was flashing across the screen with… well. With the words “let’s talk” or maybe “I read your letter and I think you’re right, we belong together.”

Finally he could sneak a peek. The phone nearly slipped through his fingers. He clicked the home button, then growled quietly when it lit up and there was no text from her. 

What was taking her so long? All it took was a text message or a phone call saying she wanted to get back together, that she loved him and wanted to work things out, and all of this would be solved. His face felt hot, and he jammed his phone back into his pocket, determined to not look at it for the rest of the day. 

How would she say it? Would she be her usual self and say something sweet? 

“Hey you, I got your letter. I love you. I want to work this out with you, can we meet tonight and talk about it? I’ve missed you so much.” 

What if she said something he didn’t want to hear? 

“I got your letter. I need to think about this. I think I want to still keep to our agreement to not talk for the rest of the month and try and figure this out myself.”

He squeezed the steering wheel of his forklift. If that was her answer he really would be upset. What would she need to think about? It was an easy thing, a black and white situation, and she didn’t need to create any grey area like she did so often. 

She loved the grey area. “Life isn’t always so one side or the other,” she’d say, “the grey area exists for a reason.”

A jolt knocked him back into the present and he straightened the prongs of the forklift before lifting the pallet onto the shelf. An alarm sounded, signaling the end of his work day. Quickly, he put the pallet away and rushed to his car. 

He was going to call her. This was ridiculous, she had to be playing some kind of game, right? He had said in his letter he wasn’t going to make her feel pressure but he had to know her answer. He had to know if she was just messing with him.

The speed limit was simply a suggestion today. His knuckles slowly turned white as he drove. He would get to his apartment, go to his room, and call her. Just to ask if she had gotten the letter. Her friend might not have given it to her yet, maybe she didn’t know how he felt and that’s why she hadn’t reached out yet. 

Maybe the friend hadn’t given her the letter. The thought hurt. It was hard to tell if the friend supported them being together, she was always changing her mind. One minute she was trying to set them up on dates and the next minute she was talking about him being controlling and unreasonable. 

He shook his head. No. She had told him she would deliver the letter, and she wasn’t a liar. 

When he pulled into his apartment parking lot, his roommate’s car was there, too. Great. He’d want to talk, and his roommate could talk for hours. There wasn’t time for this. This not knowing was torture, worse than the break up. At least with a break up there’s closure, a finality. With this, this stupid waiting and wondering, time stood still and the longer the waiting the more doubts would creep in.

He opened the door to his apartment as softly as he could, hoping his roommate was asleep or gaming in his own room. The living room was empty. He faintly heard the sound of a PlayStation controller and his roommate’s voice down the hallway behind a closed door. Thank god. He slipped into his room and shut the door gently.

He could smell himself now. A shower would have to wait. He had to call her, had to know if she had gotten the letter and read it yet. Two days was plenty of time to read it. Plenty of time to make up your mind and make a decision.

The phone screen stared blankly back at him. He found her name in his contacts and smiled briefly at the photo she had put as her contact picture. All he had to do was touch her number…

Seconds, then minutes went by. His thumb hovered over her number. He chewed his top lip. 

He couldn’t do it.

Frustrated, he threw his phone onto his bed and flopped down, letting out a loud sigh into his pillow. He couldn’t do that to her. The breakup had been his idea, not talking for a month had been his idea. He couldn’t expect her to get a letter saying he was wrong, he was sorry, he wanted to start over, and think she would just run right back to him. It wasn’t fair to her. For all he knew, she could’ve been angry with him. She might see this as a red flag, maybe an inconsistency she should be aware of and run far away from.

It had come up before. “Make up your mind, make a decision!” she was always telling him. He tried to explain to her that with small things, decisions were easy, but with big, important ones, he needed to take time and weigh all the options and be sure he was making the right decision. She would always roll her eyes. She was always so quick to decide what she wanted.

Maybe this time she had decided she didn’t want him anymore.

His throat started to tighten and his eyes felt moist. Sitting up and wiping his face with his fist, he plugged his phone into the charger. If that was her choice, he would live with it, like he had told her he would at the end of his letter. He loved her, but it would be worse than this misery if she didn’t love him and he tried to force her to stay with him. 

He took a shower, not really feeling the water. His roommate never came out of his room like normal. Small blessings. There wasn’t anything to talk about right now.

He settled back in his room in his gaming chair, briefly enjoying as he did every time he sat down just how comfortable it was. The Skyrim start menu came up. That would make him feel better, listening to the epic music and pretending like he wasn’t miserable while he snuck around gathering potions and learning how to be a better thief. 

She loved watching him play this game…

He shook his head again to clear it. He would have to start from the beginning with a new character, maybe this time with a Nord.

The music filled his headset. Glancing at his phone one last time, he set it down on his leg and picked up his controller. This was his favorite part about the game, spending as long as he needed making the character look exactly how he wanted, down to a small scar on his face. It added to the backstory he was making up. Maybe this guy had gotten into fights as a kid and once picked a fight with the wrong Khajiit. He had played as a thief, as a warrior, as a potions master, who should he be this time? 

Being immersed in the game was soothing. He slowly relaxed, settling more comfortably into his chair. As he lifted his leg and shifted, the phone slipped off. Quickly, he reached out and caught it.

The screen caught his attention. Three missed calls? That was her name. She had called him three times? The headphones had drowned out the ringing. He stared at her name, debating if he should…

The phone lit up again, her name, her number. Ripping off his headset and standing straight up, he answered.

“Hello?”

A shaky laugh, her laugh.

“Hey, I’m outside your apartment. You gonna let me in, dummy?”