The More Boys I Meet

It was the New Year’s Eve and I had managed to actually clean up the apartment and myself too which was a huge bonus.

I was finishing up some reading for my English class when someone knocked on my door.

I checked the time and saw it was close to eight that night. No one was probably in the building by this point. It was New Years after all. And I wasn’t having a party.

I opened the door and nearly shut it again. It was Marcus. “Oh look who it is,” venom dripped from my words. “The boy I was never actually dating. Oh won’t you come in?” I asked, shutting the door in his face. “Just kidding,” I said to myself, going back to work on my paper.

“Ellie,” he sounded pathetic. “Can we just talk?”

“Funny,” I said, sitting back on my bed and starting typing again. “I wanted to talk before but all I got was some Swedish shouting about how I was seeing other guys, while not actually seeing anyone, not even you, and then you hung up and turned off your phone. So excuse me, if I don’t really feel up to talking.”

“I’m not leaving until we talk,” he stated firmly.

“Have at it,” I said and I focused completely on my paper, forgetting completely about Marcus.

I must have fallen asleep, because I woke to my phone ringing. I answered it groggily, not checking the caller ID. “What?”

There was a pause. “Hi.”

“Two in the past twenty four hours?” I couldn’t help but sneer. “Do what do I owe the pleasure Patrick?” I used his full first name. Something I rarely did.

“Is there any way that we can fix this?” he asked tentatively.

“Right now? No.”

“I’m sorry,” he still said.

“Congrats,” I said. “You can use words.”

“Look, I’m sorry I got so mad. I guess I didn’t really have any right to get mad at you for making new friends. I guess I just didn’t want you making a new best friend to replace me.”

I felt a slight pang of something. “Well you went about it absolutely flawlessly,” I said.

“I wish I could take it back,” he said.

“Yeah, but you can’t.”

“Will you please come home?” he asked.

“No,” I said. “It’s already the thirty first. I’m not coming home now. I have to be back here in a week and a half.”

“More than plenty of time,” he said.

“For what Pat? You to drill me on my life here at college? No thank you. But you can come pick up Marcus if he hasn’t already left. I don’t particularly want him here either.”

He sighed. “We kind of screwed up, didn’t we?”

“You think?” I asked. “Look, I don’t care how upset you were, you really hurt me Pat and it’s not like it can be undone. You just left me here and yelled at me over the phone for having a life outside of you guys. What are you three, like my protectors from the world? You guys are worse than having a protective boyfriend. Which by the way, I don’t even have a boyfriend!”

“Yeah,” he said, sounding miserable. “I’m sorry, okay? I’ll keep saying it until you forgive me. Because I am. Alice called and she kinda yelled some sense into us and she’s right. You’re allowed to have other friends and it was dumb to think you only had us as friends.”

“Yeah it was,” I agreed. “And you didn’t exactly say it nicely either.”

“No, I didn’t,” he sighed. “I’m sorry.”

“Stop saying you’re sorry,” I told him. “It’s getting annoying,” and I hung up on him. Why? Because it made me feel better and I couldn’t slap him. He was too far away.

I opened my door and found Marcus sleeping in front of my door. I sighed and woke him up. I walked inside and he followed me tentatively.

“Alice call you too?” I asked, pouring myself a cup of coffee and perching myself on the counter.

He nodded. “She wasn’t very pleased with my theory. . . my wrong theory,” he admitted.

I waited.

“I’m sorry. I mean we’re not even dating and I got protective. It was uncalled for and so I’m sorry,” he said simply.

“Yeah,” was all I said, feeling worn out. I was so sick of being mad and all I wanted to do was sleep in my bed. Not in this one, but the one back at home. But I couldn’t. I was stubborn and told Pat I wasn’t coming home. I was stuck here.

I guess I must have looked about ready to cry again because Marcus came over and wrapped his arms around me. I just buried my face into his sweater and sighed loudly. “I’m tired,” I said, my voice muffled by the material.

“Come on,” he said and he went over to my dresser and threw miscellaneous items into my suitcase and threw some shoes at me. “We should get going.”

I stood there. “I told Pat I wasn’t coming home.”

He rolled his eyes. “But you look like you could really use some groveling and some presents.”

“I don’t want groveling or presents,” I said, sitting down on my bed. “I want to go back in time and call you guys so you don’t get so mad,” I admitted. “I want to go back to Christmas and wake up to food and you guys happy.”

His face softened and he sat next to me. “It wasn’t really your fault. It was our’s for getting jealous. We missed you and we took it out on you.”

I nodded.

He slipped on my boots for me and led me out to the car. I got into the back, where there was already a pillow and Marcus’ good blanket waiting. As far as I knew, he never let anyone touch this blanket. And I curled right up into it, falling asleep, right as midnight came around.