Spinning Out of Control

Tick, tock.

8:04 p.m.

Tick, tock.

8:08 p.m.

Tick, tock.

8:16 p.m.

I sat in silence. The only sound was the clock, ringing in my ears each time it sprang to a new minute. I couldn’t stop staring at the door, perched on the edge of the loveseat, like he would come back and knock again.

But he never did.

Why did I expect him to? Did I expect him to run back into my arms? Just because I returned didn’t mean we would immediately get back together.

And why would I want that? I was the one who left him. I am the one who choose to break off our relationship, engagement, marriage, and contact. So how come I hoped for him to run up to my doorstep and accept me back into his life with open arms? I should have anticipated him moving on, finding a new girl who makes him happy and fulfills his every need. She’s probably his everything.

And I am just nothing.

I am a speck on his life; the girl who broke his heart by upping and leaving at a moment’s notice. I am a bleep that occurs on a copier; that annoying smudge when the ink over-pours.

He doesn’t need me anymore.

“We’re back!” The cries of my mom make me jump to my feet as they clamber into the house, a sleeping Emma slumped against my dad’s shoulder.

I put on a forced smile and walk over, taking my slumbering daughter from my parents. Her head rests against my shoulder as I smooth her unruly blonde curls down. “She was perfectly behaved,” my mom sighs, running a hand down Emma’s back. “You’ve raised her well.” She gives a small frown. “Especially for a single mother.”

I make sure my flinch isn’t noticeable and give a small nod. I wanted to tell them about Alex visiting me, but decide not to when I see it’s late. “I’m gonna put her down. She’s probably exhausted.”

My dad nods, reaching over to peck my cheek. “Night, sweetie.”

I give both of them kisses before creaking up the stairs noiselessly. Emma murmurs, “Bedtime, Mommy?”

I chuckle. “Bedtime, Emma.”

I push open my bedroom door with my hip, making sure not to bump Emma against anything. I set her on the bed and change her into her Minnie Mouse pajamas. She gathers under the covers, curling into her usual ball, clutching her stuffed bunny. I kiss her forehead as she drifts back into unconsciousness, my chest tightening for a reason I couldn’t place.

I wasn’t tired, and I knew I wouldn’t fall asleep even if I tried, so I turn the lights off and go back into the hall, closing my door behind me softly, so as not to stir Emma.

I walk back downstairs, flicking the TV on as I pass the remote. It turned on to some news report, so I change it a movie, nodding in approval when I see it’s one of my favorites. I move into the kitchen, grabbing a bag of popcorn to put in the microwave. I set the timer and move away, reaching out for my purse.

My hand falls short.

I look to where I thought I had put my bag, to find the counter empty. I scrunch my brows. I could’ve sworn I put it there.

“Hmm…” I hum, thinking back to when I grabbed the bags.

I had been distracted by Jack. I must have forgotten my purse in the car when he came up to talk to me. Damn it, I curse to myself. I grab my keys off the counter, moving out of the front door and jogging down to my car parked at the curb.

I unlock the door and grab my purse, slinging it over my shoulder. And as I shut the door and re-lock it, I hear footsteps off to my right.

Instinctively, I glance over.

My heart stopped and fell to the pits of hell.

Alex was walking down the street, his arm wrapped around a girl next to him. She was small and dainty, at least a good six inches shorter than him. She was basically huddled next to him like a little girl does with her father. She was grinning up at him, the moon hitting her face, washing light over her. She had dark brown hair that hit her lower back, blowing in the light breeze the night was bringing us. Her big, doe eyes were brown, practically the same color as the boy’s next to her. She had a splash of freckles over her nose and cheekbones, which were defined and high on her face. She had a cute little button nose and a winning smile, white and blinding. And she had a natural tanned tone to her skin, complimenting her hair.

In contrast, I was the polar opposite. I was fairly tall; about two inches shorter than Alex, with a lanky build that I thought suited me. And whenever I stood next to Alex, I was able to look him in the face without craning my neck. I had light blonde hair that hit below my chest, which was longer than it’s ever been before. I had smaller crinkled blue eyes that Alex used to tell me were as deep as the ocean. I had absolutely no freckles, a huge nose, and cheekbones that didn’t have any definition to them. My smile was kind of crooked and I was so pale, I was considered neon white.

Our looks couldn’t be any different.

And before I could turn around and go back to my house, it was too late; Alex was walking up. He stops dead when he sees me, his eyes widening. I could see his Adam’s apple move as he gulps.

“Oh,” he breathes, all three of us sizing each other up. It was obvious the other girl had no idea who I was. “Ravyn.”

At the sound of my name, her expression registered. Her back stiffened.

“Hey,” I try to smile, but it was more of a grimace then anything. I could tell Alex had been trying to avoid this. And I can understand why; the tension in the air was probably thick enough to cut with a chainsaw.

Another pause, before I finally turn to Alex’s girlfriend. “Hi,” I try to sound bright and friendly, but I wasn’t successful. “I’m Ravyn. And you are?”

She shakes my outstretched hand. “Jasmine. Jasmine Leahy.”

I nod as our grips pull away from each other. It became uncomfortable once again (although it had still been awkward even when we were talking). I clear my throat, looking back up at their gazes. “I should get going,” I tell them, faking a yawn. “I’m super tired. Jet-lag and all.” The joke didn’t stick. “See you guys.”

But as I turn to go back to the house, both of their sets of eyes following my retreating figure, I watch in horror as the front of my house opens. And low and behold, revealing Emma in her Minnie Mouse pajamas, holding her blankie tightly.

My eyes become the size of saucer plates.

“Mommy,” she calls out, her voice small and frail, but echoing nonetheless. “Can I has a something to dwink?”