Atelophobia (Love is Misery)

now

"You're telling me this asshole came here???"

My entire body clenches. "Philo. I'll try to be calm. Call him an asshole one more time and I am moving out."

"Where? With him??" she retorts.

Why not, I stop myself from saying.

Today is the fourth day after that interaction with him. Also commonly known as Sunday. Sunday the 8th of May.

Philo caught me sneaking out with Ethen's hotel card and thinks I'm going to see him in secret because he wants to use me for my body, that he manipulates me into it. Something I suspect is a fantasy of hers (about Ethen or not), something she uses as a pretext. To which I responded that she was ridiculous and explained I had to go because otherwise he would get kicked out—without adding that Ethen has never cared enough about my body to do such a thing.

"Who cares if he gets kicked out??"

"I do." She glares at me and I try to reach for the door. She prevents it. "Philo, let me go. It's important to me."

"Why did you let him in???" She sounds so salty, for some reason.

"Aren't you the one who gave him the address??" I retort.

Her mouth opens and she replies, "I didn't know he had a photographic memory. Or videographic, earographic, whatever you call that."

"It's auditory memory. And he's at Stanford. I don't know what you expected."

"Well, I don't know either. And I'm having a hard time believing he came to find you after a whole year because you asked him to when you were drunk, and now he's magically dropping out of one of the best schools in the world and flying back to California to get his stuff just because you asked." She shrugs. She looks normal but it feels salty. Very salty. "It just seems a little unrealistic."

Yes, it is quite unrealistic, I can't deny that. "Well okay, but I have to go now. Move."

"Are you having sex with him in secret??? You know that sort of relationship is not good for your mental health, right?" Like this is any of her business. Why is she so worried about that?

"You calling my very loving ex-boyfriend hot, not to mention telling me about it and going on and on about how attractive he is, and then calling him an asshole and insulting him for no reason the same day wasn't good for my mental health either, but I guess it doesn't count if it's you, right?"

I push her and she mutters something along the lines of "what happened to you?"

Why is she acting like none of this is her fault? Like she didn't give our address to Ethen? Like I was supposed to nod and agree with her while she literally spat her venom talking about him. Him! Did she seriously expect me to sit and smile?

I take my bike and ride all the way to the hotel. I go to his room and beep the card on the door. It doesn't work. So I try another time and the door opens.

"You're here," he says with a smile.

I would gasp but I can't breathe. "You're back."

"Yeah, I was actually about to leave for my apartment. Do you want to go with me?"

Oh. What can I say? Oh no I'm panicking.

"Sure." Fuck.

"Alright, take this." He gives me a bouquet with a note in it. The flowers are a bit fanned, I think it's the bouquet I saw on the bed when I first came here. I looked up what flowers they were. They're azaleas and balloon flowers. Pink and purple.

"Since when are these here?" I ask.

"Since you first came and didn't take the hint" he replies, "I guess I'll just have to be a bit more obvious next time."

He looks better, for some reason. That somewhat of a beard is gone, his eyes are less small, more smiley, he seems brighter. Not tired. Just very glad.

"They're for me?"

He looks at me and a playful smirk appears on his face, "who else could it be for?"

I don't answer and keep the door open as he gets out with his suitcase and bags. He waits for me to catch up and we walk to the reception. He gives away his hotel card and the old one I still have and takes the bags again before walking towards the exit.

"Do you need help?"

"Don't worry about me, just focus on walking straight and not fall, you'll hurt yourself."

Ouch. He's so right, though.

My phone vibrates and I ignore it. But it vibrates again. And again. And again.

Philo: did you sell your soul to the devil yet??

Philo: remember pregnancy is a burden

Philo: are you even alive????

Philo: no but seriously, I don't understand why you bother doing anything for him

I groan unintentionally and Ethen frowns. I roll my eyes and slowly answer.

Andrea: still alive but I can't walk

Philo: Rea I'm gonna fucking kill you

Philo: WHAT DID I TELL YOU

Did she not get the joke??

Andrea: yes mom, no sex

Philo: NO! no HIM!! because sex with him is bad

Andrea: girl...if you only knew

Philo: are you serious

Yes.

Ethen looks at me, confused.

"Just Philo."

He takes keys out of his pocket and says, "she slightly reminds me of Clem."

The car in front of us opens, "yeah, I gue-" This can't be. Or can it? We're adults now, after all. It just seems natural. But not so much. "Is this your car?"

"Yes."

It is black and glossy. So professional. So elegant. Overall, just so pretty.

He opens the trunk and places his stuff inside while I help him. I give him the bouquet, "well, have a good day, then."

I start walking away rapidly. But not enough for him not to catch me, "come with me? Please??"

That voice. Always sounding so sad and desperate and adorable.

"I can't leave my bike here. Sorry."

"Let's just take it, then," he says walking toward me, "stay by the car and make sure no one steals it. Or you."

I roll my eyes, "you don't even know which one it is."

"I don't think many people leave their unprotected bike outside the entrance of a hotel."

I'm not offended, but hell, I wish I could be sometimes.

We are almost back to normal. And I have to remind myself that, no. We aren't back to normal. It's been months since we have seen each other, I'm not seventeen or eighteen. We're nineteen—going to twenty—now, and he's not my boyfriend anymore, either.

I will just see him once in a while. And getting used to his presence is the last thing I should do if I want to stay sane.

He brings the bike and makes it fit in the backseat. Then he opens the door for me like I need someone to help me with it and closes the door before getting inside as well.

It's okay. It's just a car. We're not even that close. Right?