"Don't act weird, man, just don't act weird," I chanted to myself as I accepted the call, weaving through the crowded aisles of the bustling mall. Shoppers moved around me like a river, their chatter blending into a dull roar. I was hyper-aware of their presence all of a sudden, it seemed troubling.
"Hello?" Her blossoming voice beamed through the speaker, bright and warm, contrasting sharply with the fluorescent lights and the musty smell of the store.
"H-Hey," I stuttered, cursing myself for my quivering, trembling voice. My lips were suddenly dry, and I found it really hard to swallow. I glanced around, searching for a quiet corner away from the bustling crowd.
"How are you doing?" she asked. I scoffed at the question, my eyes darting to the display of vibrant summer dresses on sale. She asked me how I was doing after dumping me spontaneously. I didn't say anything to answer, so she followed with another question.
"Do you think we can meet?" That question genuinely shocked me. Not only because we broke up recently and she said she didn't want anything to do with me, but also because she never initiates actions like this. She usually coops up in her house, a cozy place filled with soft blankets and scented candles, and waits for someone to decide her day for her. Talk about dependence.
"No," I replied, trying to keep my voice steady. There was a little wail, and she continued, "I heard you were moving, Trish. I just want to talk to you before you leave for good," she cried.
"What? Are you serious right now? I really thought you were better than this, Rach. You dump me and have the nerve to ask me what's going on in my life?" I said, more aggressively than I had hoped. My free hand clenched into a fist, nails digging into my palm.
"I'm sorry, Trish. I know I broke up with you, but I miss you a lot. Life is so much harder without you. I don't know what I'm doing. I even flunked English. I just really feel lost without you," she cried, her voice trembling. I imagined her sitting on her bed, surrounded by pillows, tears streaming down her face.
"So, you don't have your maid to do all your work, is that it? I can't believe you," I sneered, glancing at a nearby kiosk selling phone cases, the bright colors a stark contrast to my dark mood.
"No, that's not what I'm trying to say. I'm just saying that these past few years, you haven't been yourself. You've been living in your own fantasy world and you don't care about anyone around you. I just didn't like the person you have become, but I still love you, if that makes sense..."
"No, Rachel, that doesn't make any sense. If you don't like me, just say it to my face. I don't want to hear how you can't control me anymore, so you control me from behind." My voice was icy, each word dripping with bitterness. "I thought you would be there for me. But you weren't."
She ignored my qualms and continued to complain about her own life. "You used to tell me everything, Trish. About your mother, camp, but after she died—"
"SHE'S NOT DEAD!" I screamed. A few shoppers looked back at me, a little concerned.
She began, but I cut her off, unable to bear the memories flooding back.
"You know what, Rachel? I've got stuff to do, so have fun with Finn after I'm gone. Nobody's here to stop you then." My words felt heavy, laden with the finality of our conversation. The bright lights of the mall seemed to blur as I spoke, the bustling shoppers turning into vague silhouettes.
"No, Trish, it's a misunderstanding. You need to understand," she continued to make excuses, but I'd had enough of that, so I cut the call. I don't need her in my life, not anymore. She's a monster, the kind that pretends to be a silver lining in your life but is actually a dark cloud. I shoved my phone into my pocket and leaned against a nearby pillar, feeling the weight of the conversation settle heavily on my chest.