As soon as I got back from travelling last week, I immediately had to go back out of town for an unplanned thesis project-related trip. When I get back home, I will have to leave the next day for another medical school interview and will be out of town again while I'm doing that (and since it's in a fairly famous city that I've never been to I decided to make it into a mini vacation so I'll be going to my interview and then staying for a few days to do some obnoxiously tourist-y things).
So, all that is to say that the next post will be posted October 19th, after I'm done traveling for awhile (hopefully).
During the time that I've written this blog, I've never really been all that involved in the comments on my posts. I read every comment written on this blog, usually I stay neutral or like to make a funny comment if I say anything at all. I do this because I really don't mind if people express their opinions, whatever they may be, about my writing or the blog. That being said, I do not appreciate being called a liar, especially by people who know nothing about my life.
I hadn’t seen him in years so I was surprised to see him
standing in front of me. I closed my book and put it down on the table between
us. He sat across from me. His hair was shorter, but it was still him.
I was sitting on Heather’s couch and we had been arguing for
nearly an hour. I was so over this conversation. To me, the decision had been
made but she wanted to make sure I was making it for the “right” reasons.
“Adam, you’ve been wavering on moving back here for months
and suddenly Molly calls you and tells you Faith needs you and all of a sudden
you change your tune? Do you honestly expect me to believe that it has nothing
to do with her?” Heather was standing with her hands on her hips, seemingly to
take a break from pacing across the living room.
The banging on my front door woke me up and I didn’t have
the energy to face Molly on the other side. All of my friends looked at me with
so much pity and kept insisting that I move on with my life. I just didn’t want
to deal with it anymore, so I locked my door, buried my head under my pillow
and ignored the world for a few days.
My time was up, though, because, sure enough, Molly showed
up and started banging on my door.
Her banging went on for ten minutes before I finally got
angry enough to drag myself out of bed.
Maggie was yelling at Tony and all of Mike’s friends in the
burn unit’s waiting room. She was absolutely distraught and taking it out on
everyone around her. It got to the point where the hospital staff threatened to
call security unless she left Mike’s room until she calmed down. Incidentally,
calming down was the opposite of what she was doing in the waiting room.
They were all staring at me and I felt the walls close in.
If there had been walls, that is. Everywhere I looked someone was watching,
waiting. The longer it went on the worse it got. I looked down and saw Mike. He
was bleeding and I was holding a bloody knife.
Mike and I trudged up the snowy stoop to Maggie’s house. I
was carrying several gifts for Grant and Annabelle and had gifts for Claire,
Sarah, Maggie, and Jamie in a bag slung over my shoulder. Mike was holding a
dish of my stuffed mushrooms and a couple bottles of wine.
I chose my outfit very carefully for the night. It was a
black dress with long black sleeves and a conservative neckline. It went to
just above my knee and I was wearing thick black tights and black shoes. Mike
had commented that I looked like I was going to a funeral so I threw on some
Christmas ball ornament earrings, put a gift bow in my hair, and changed my
shoes out for some shiny red pumps that matched the earrings and bow.