“You have ten seconds to give me some kind of explanation, Aaron, or I’m walking out thedoor.”
He keeps his head down, eyes glued to the floor. I watch him inhale and open his mouth like he’s about to speak, but then he sets his jaw again and I know I’m not getting ananswer.
I turn around. He doesn’t stop me when Igo.
* * *
“Foda-se!”
I slam my hands against my steering wheel, and when the action gives me a tiny spark of satisfaction, I do it again. Andagain.
I pound my palms against the wheel until my skin goes red and I’m panting. My heart races from the exertion, but the urge to scream and break things has dulled enough that I can drive. As I pull out of the parking lot, I push all my feelings into a dark corner of my mind, focusing on staying numb until I’m back in my ownroom.
When I finally make it to my apartment, I belly flop onto my bed without even taking off myshoes.
This is not how Christina Dominguez handlesthings.
When things go wrong, I take action. I come up with a plan and then I do what I need to do in order to make them right. I don’t curl up in bed and wait for it all to get better. I make itbetter.
I don’t even know what step one for fixing this would be, though. Going back in time and never modelling for Aaron Penn at all would be a good place to start, but that’s not an option. There’s no reset button for your heart, no memory card you can wipe to make it all goaway.
Is that how Aaron feels, when he thinks abouther?
Part of me starts to feel sorry for him, even as the rest of me keeps raging with anger and pain. Whatever I was starting to feel for Aaron, it had definitely not gotten anywhere near love. If this is what being hurt by someone I was only just beginning to care about feels like, I can’t even imagine how hollow, how completely and utterly empty he must have felt when that girl decided to leavehim.
I lie face down on my bed for a few more minutes, giving in to the pain, letting it make a space for itself inside me. I didn’t even realize Aaron meant this much to me. A dark laugh slips out of me at thethought.
You never really know how much you care about someone until they prove how much they can hurtyou.
Flipping onto my back, I reach for my phone and enter my password, wondering if I should call Alice or wait until I’ve calmed down a bit more. I look at my inbox and notice a new email that came in just a few minutesago.
It’s from EpsilonMedia.
I sit straight up in bed, not even considering whether it’s wise to open up a message that might have bad news when I’m already so down and out. I look at the address and see it’s from the woman we spoke to at the showcase. My heart rate skyrockets and I open up themessage.
DearChristina,
Thank you for following up with me, and for your interest in EpsilonMedia.
I’ll admit I got a bit of backlash for pushing our attendance at your college’s showcase, but after the results I came back with, all of my colleagues agreed it was a worthwhile endeavour. Epsilon will be in attendance at all future events. Your project in particular was well received, and I’ve had feedback from multiple sources saying you have just the kind of originality we pride ourselves on here atEpsilon.
I regret to inform you, though, that for the foreseeable future we have no relevant openings available. Even our internships are highly sought after, and all positions are filled well in advance. However, your resume will be kept on file, both with the company at large and personally withme.
I would encourage you to continue building experience in the industry and to check back with Epsilon in the future. You’re welcome to contact me directly, and should the opportunity arise, I’m sure we would be lucky to haveyou.
Sincerly,
RobynTanner
I don’t even remember the last time I cried, but as soon as I saw the infamous words ‘your resume will be kept on file’ I started to break down. My phone drops onto the mattress and I pull my knees into my chest, tears streaming down my face and seeping into the fabric of my blanket. I feel my body shaking as I cry until no more tearscome.
If Alice was here, she’s be belting out Daniel Powter’s ‘You Had a Bad Day’ at the top of herlungs.
The thought brings a watery smile to my lips and I sit up, mopping at my face with my sleeve. All I want to do right now dive under the blankets and pull my curtains closed, but I know I’m not going to feel any better if I sit around acting pathetic and sorry for myself. I need to do something to remind myself that I’mstrong.
Demolishing a punching bag sounds like a good place tostart.
The kickboxing studio is in walking distance of my house, so I grab my gym bag and head out, pulling up the studio schedule as I go. My luck doesn’t appear to have totally run out; there’s an open gym session going on all evening, which means I can work out on my own for as long as I needto.
