She leans in close, pity in her eyes. "Ms. Brooks doesn't want any guests right now." She frowns, apologetic.
Clearly, Samantha doesn't want to see me today. Clearly, she said something to this woman about how little she wants to see me. It's not like there is anyone else who would visit her. I'm sure her parents are pretending as if this is not happening.
The receptionist looks at me with pity. She must think I'm the asshole ex-boyfriend.
"There's a cafeteria in the basement," she offers.
I nod a thank you and I leave the waiting room. It's cool outside and the sky is a blinding shade of white. It's the kind of white that covers Southern California beaches in the morning, before the sun rises and turns everything a brilliant shade of blue.
My shirt is sweaty, sticking to my chest, and my hair is a mess. This isn't going to work itself out in the next few hours. Samantha refused to see me. She wouldn't refuse to see me if she was in a car accident or if she fell and broke her
leg.
My jaw locks up. This isn't the time to think about my mother, about how much it hurts that she's gone.
My head is aching and my back is sore. I need to find a hotel, take a shower, and attempt to get a few hours of sleep.
But not until I'm sure Samantha won't see me today.
I call her phone. It rings three times, all the way to voice mail. Not a good sign.
I call again. This time, it rings once, then voice mail. She rejected the call.
Fine, she doesn't want to see me today. She needs time to build her nerve.
I walk back to my car and drive to the cheapest hotel in the area. I have the money to stay someplace nice, but I'd rather this trip not feel nice in any way. I'd rather solve this problem and get back to my life with Alyssa.
The room is an ugly shade of beige, but it's not altogether unpleasant. It has everything I need--a bed, a TV, a shower, curtains to block out the obscenely bright sun.
The hot water of the shower feels perfect against my skin. It would be so much nicer to have Alyssa in here with me, to press her against the tile wall and slide my hand between her legs. To run my lips over her the wet skin on her neck, to watch her bite her teeth and arch her back, to hear a perfect, soft moan escape her lips.
But this is the choice I made, to run off to my suicidal ex. It's a debt I have to pay.
I text Alyssa when it's late enough I'm not afraid of waking her up.
Her response is a clear push off. I'm with Laurie right now. I'll call you when I'm free.
It's not like I expect her to be available every time I need her.
But still, I want to hear her voice. When I'm near her, everything feels like it's going to be okay. It can be the phone. It can be anything, as long as I can feel how much I love her and how much she loves me.
***
It's well into the afternoon when Alyssa returns my call.
"How are you?" she asks. Her voice is sweet and sincere, but still... she doesn't want to hear about my ex-fiancé.
"It's fine."
She sighs. "You do realize you can talk to me about this, right?"
I'd rather spare her the gory details. "I am fine."
She murmurs something. "Have you gotten any sleep?"
"No, but I'm used to it."
"Are you going to sleep tonight?"