I’ve grown pretty sensitive to long bouts of silence, probably because of the unpredictability of them. Mar’s disappearance wasn't something grand or theatrical right away. It was the culmination of one too many missed calls in a day; an extra hour past curfew without hearing from her, then another and many more and the gradual realization that this was not just a stunt or a phase or some kind of rebellious teenaged message she was sending us–it was an escape. Maybe because of that, Alta’s sporadic responses and long droughts of silence worried me.
Had I come on too strong this weekend? Had I been needy? Had I scared her off like I had such a knack of doing?
Two canceled appointments and nothingother than polite but short text responses was making me think the worst. And it was already Thursday! If she wasn't avoiding me, then the sky wasn’t blue. Because just days before, we’d been–what?
Something special?
Well hell yeah, after the weekend we had I would say it was pretty damn special. And now I was worried that maybe I was the only one who felt that way.
Maybe this was my fault. Over the weekend I had been slightly rough with her. I couldn't help myself. When I saw her at the door, so cute and there just for me, I had to have her for myself.
Yep. Definitely came on strong. But hell, I was already coming on strong as ever. Offering to be at her service wasn’t exactly a subtle way to put myself out there.
But maybe it was time to put that arrangement aside?
It had worked for a while, breaking the ice between us and allowing us to see each other past those first impressions. And once we did, I wasn’t surprised to find that she was the perfect release for me too. That she was perfect, period. I thought we’d been that for each other… But maybe I was wrong?
It wouldn’t be the first time I wasn’t as important to someone as they were to me.
As the days passed with no Alta, my mood worsened. I stomped around the shop, glared at my phone, and faded in and out of attention during conversations with clients. Withdrawal was a sickness, and my current symptoms consisted of annoyance, agitation, and speaking before I think... So not that far off from my regular idiot behavior, but it felt more dire as I waited and wondered what the hell had happened to her.
And to top everything off, the calls had stopped.
Clay had been right. I put too much hope into the mystery caller being some kind of miracle, and now that it turned out to be nothing, I was disappointed. It was like she was abandoning me all over again.
Was I always meant to be alone? To be left and forgotten by the people I cared about most?
God. Who was I and what the hell was up with all these depressing thoughts?
And where the hell was she? Alta, I mean. I’d stopped torturing myself with that question on my sister's behalf a long time ago. But where was my girl? Even if she was done being mine for the short time she’d allowed it, I still wanted to see her.
I enjoyed having her smile at me, but I’d take the frown too. I’d take anything if it was coming from her.
“Is there a Harper here?” I heard someone ask from up front.
I was slouching over my chair, staring at the same drawing I’d been trying to work on for hours as I tortured myself over thoughts of her. The sound of my name didn’t even stir me. People came in here for me all the time, Jules could handle it.
“Can I ask what for?” J asked the stranger.
“Yeah, Alta sent me to drop this off for him,” he answered.
I was out of my seat in a second, coming up beside Jules and face to face with whatever fuck had her name on his tongue.
Said fuck was some floppy haired kid with too loose clothes and a manicured look about him. I must have been glowering, judging by the way he looked behind himself and then at me with a confused expression on his face.
“Got something for me?” I asked. My eyes fell to the envelope he was holding, the scrawl of my name written in familiar handwriting. All I could think was how it was from her. She’d sent something over here for me and he had his hands on it.
“If you’re Gus Harper, then yeah,” he said, eying me strangely. “Areyouhim?”
“Yeah, I am. What’s it to you?” I asked, not liking his tone.
“Nothing, nothing,” he said, eyes appraising me. “I’m just surprised.”
Yeah. I didn’t like this kid. “What did you say you wanted?”
Reaching between us he handed the envelope to me. “From Al.”
Al. Like she was some trucker or something. I took it, tucking it aside to look at when I was alone. Then I looked back up at him. “You know her?”
