Elemental: Chapter One, Part 2

The curiosity and desire to remain naïve warred for days until I decided I had to know for sure. That Friday night, I waited up for him, my mystery man. Part of me was petrified at the mere thought of meeting him. Another part, a stronger part, was determined to follow through. I stayed awake all through the night, occupying my time with books, music, and various apps on my phone. He let me down. The one night I needed a friendly confrontation was the one night he never showed up.

I tried sleeping through most of the morning and reluctantly dredged up the energy to climb out of bed around noon when Emily called for a girls’ day out—which meant shopping. The whole troupe was showing up because it turned out Richie had been dating both Emily and Sara without either knowing—how that was possible, I never really found out—and was honest about it when he broke up with them that morning. According to their rabid babble, he had invited both of them for morning coffee. It was a surprise when both girls showed up at the café at the same time to see the same person. Upon demanding an explanation, he said something about it was time they knew the truth and their self-absorption made it easy. Sara mentioned something else in passing about how he cheated because they were vapid. (Though I don’t like to admit it, I hadn’t been much different.)

Shopping, by the way, was one of our most common pastimes. When we were collectively—meaning at least two of us—depressed, infuriated, ecstatic, or other emotional extremes, we shopped. After a good day of gossip and rumors, we shopped. It was our thing, as shallow as it sounds. My one saving grace was books. Though I rarely bought those on our excursions, unless there was a new fashion magazine out and then going to the bookstore was excusable. But only then.

By the end of the day, I was exhausted. Emily and Sara were livid the entire shopping spree, seemingly determined to max out their credit cards. Sara had elaborated on the “vapid” comment while trying on what seemed like hundreds of sweaters, blouses, skirts, dresses, jackets, and various other articles of clothing. Supposedly, he had no idea they were friends until after he started the double girlfriend antics. (I say supposedly because that detail was hard to miss considering our pack-mentality.) She informed us he had blatantly told them he would never have purposely dated the pair of them simultaneously had he known they were so much alike in personality—meaning they were more obsessed with how they looked and acted and the latest gossip than with the latest New York Times Bestseller. Suffice it to say, Jennifer, Heather, Rachel and I received an earful and several repeated remarks throughout the entire afternoon. Such a waste of a crisp October day.

Instead of my usual self-turmoil to consider that night, my mind was filled with all the vengeful ideas the two had tossed around while trying on clothes. I almost pitied Richie. Almost, but not quite.

Much to my surprise, my mystery man came to lull me to sleep. He didn’t allow me to chew him out for not coming the night before. He did, however, apologize. He said, “I am sorry to have disappointed you. I cannot permit our meeting. It is still too early for me to know if you are who I am seeking.” A few nights later, he said he had to go. “I will watch over you,” he assured me before easing my mind into another deep slumber.

At first I thought he was kidding. I thought it was all a game to make me regret ever thinking he was a vampire and staying up that night. For being a semi-shallow person even though I could be more than that. I wasn’t sure what the wrong was, but I was certain one had to exist.

That’s what I thought for about a week before it finally dawned on me he wasn’t coming back.

I forced myself to forget all about him and replaced his soothing voice with the tasteless sleeping pills my mother offered. With those I was guaranteed six hours of sleep; with an alarm clock set loud enough, I could have had a minimum of five hours. I never felt as refreshed, but it aided in putting him behind me.

What proved more difficult to replace was his scent. It never occurred to me I expected it and found it as much a comfort as his voice. Even if I could sleep thanks to the pills, it didn’t stop me from missing that smell. I did what I could, keeping fresh flowers on my bedside table. They weren’t anywhere close to satisfying my longing for his scent, but they would have to do.