Flipping Coins

As I stepped out of the elevator, I could already hear my home phone screaming inside my apartment. I hurriedly jogged down the hall, to my door, and shoved my key inside the lock to push the door open forcefully.

Once inside, I snatched the phone from its holder and pressed it to my face. “Hello?”

“Emie? Is that you?” Ryan asked unsurely from the other line.

“No,” I answered sarcastically, “it’s actually Emie’s roommate, Powerpuff Girl Number 4--Boobs. Those three little B-named bitches kicked me out of their perfect family, and I’m seeking revenge. Got a knife I could borrow, by chance?”

Ryan sighed at my dull humor. “Okay, stupid question. I get it. Of course it’s you. Anyways, where the hell have you been?”

“Where have I been?” I repeated with confusion.

“Yes! Where have you been? I’ve been trying to reach you all day!” Ryan informed me in shouts. “You didn’t answer your cellphone, or your home phone. I felt like an obsessed stalker calling you so many times! What have you been doing? I thought you were ignoring me this whole time.” A hint of hurt touched his tone, and I immediately softened.

“Ryan,” I said softly, “why in the world would I ever want to ignore you? All you’ve ever been to me is the best friend-slash-problem solver a girl could find. Why would I want to risk losing that kind of friendship?”

“I don’t know,” Ryan muttered. “I just assumed the worse, I guess.”

“As per usual.” I laughed.

“So,” Ryan began, “tell me about your oh-so busy day. You’ve been gone for about four or five hours. What have you been doing?”

I couldn’t help but to allow a shy, dazed smile cross my face, and even though Ryan was about 7 or 8 states away, I still felt enough embarrassment at the question to cause my cheeks to redden tenfold. I was suddenly glad we weren’t communicating through Webcam.

But Ryan had sharp ears, and he caught the crinkling sound of my lips curling into a grin. He immediately began to harass, “Ooh! Emie went to her first male stripper bar! Did you give the guy a fat tip? Oh! Better yet--did you take pictures?”

My cheeks beamed even darker at the thought of attending such a place, and I instantly denied Ryan’s false accusation. “Hey! I did not go to a male stripper bar! And even if I dared to go to that kind of STD-infested establishment, I would sure as hell have enough dignity as to spare pictures! Where are you getting this? Did you guys go to a stripper bar on the way to Florida or something?” The tables were officially turned.

Ryan laughed. “We didn’t, I swear. I was watching Dude Where’s My Car, and that’s how the whole concept popped into my brain.”

“Sure,” I mumbled.

Ryan laughed again. “I promise we did no such thing. Anyways, tell me about your day, woman! I’m getting impatient here!”

“Okay. Fine,” I said with curt sass, moving from my indignant attitude to an awed tone. “Well, you know Jordan?”

He immediately saw where I was going with this. With a sharp gasp, Ryan said worriedly, “No way. You did not have sex with him.”

“No!” I yelled, rolling my eyes. “Dammit, Ryan! Stop assuming the worst!”

Ryan caught his breath and did a relieved exhale of breath. “Sorry. It’s just…you know...had to ask. Anyways, continue please.”

I sighed and obeyed. I gave him the full account--from King fucking Kong to the phone call conversation (which Ryan took in disdainfully with remarks like, ‘Oh, so you answer for him but not for your concerned psychiatrist/BFF’) to IHOP to the walking through the city--all the way until the goodbye kiss.

Ryan was silent when I finished my enchanting story, and that worried me. Normally, a friend would be cheering the other on and praising their romantic works. This was not the Ryan I expected.

Then came his quiet voice, “That’s good, Emie.”

“Yeah,” I said, trying to keep the confusion from my voice. “Really, really good, actually. I honestly think today has helped me forget Brendon completely. In fact, I haven’t thought about him once today!”

Okay, so that was a lie, but I wanted Ryan to feel proud of me. I wanted some good, true feedback. I wanted the bliss that had been rushing through my bloodstream back at the airport to return to my body, not this churning, frigid feeling devouring my stomach.

Unfortunately, something in my comment set Ryan off.

After a bustle of movement crunching in my ear and a few distant voices, all became silent. Surprisingly, Jon’s voice greeted me minutes later, answering my frequent, worried calls for Ryan, “Hey Emie. This is Jon.”

“Jon! What’s going on? Is Ryan okay?” I questioned with apprehension and unease.

Jon’s smooth, even-toned voice was calm and assuring, “Don’t worry. Ryan is totally fine. He just fell off the bed, and I think he might have injured his hand, but he’ll be fine. Don’t worry.”

“Well, how did he fall?” I asked, concerned.

Jon was hesitant. “He--uh--I’m not sure, actually. You see, he--um--I wasn’t exactly in the room when he fell. But Zack and Brendon will take care of him. He’ll be fine, Emie. Don’t worry.”

I should have kept count how many times he's said that to me during this conversation.

“Well, can I talk to him?”

“I don’t think now is the best time,” Jon answered, crushing my hopes. “I’ll have him call you back as soon as possible though, okay? I have to go now. I’ll talk to you later, alright, Em?”

“Yeah, sure,” I said dully. “Bye Jon.”

“Bye.”

With that, the dial tone left me feeling alone once more.