"I forgot part of your present at my house, so I'll have to give it to you tomorrow. Is that ok?" He asks smiling at me.
I'm disappointed, because I was looking forward to the present, but also relieved because that means that he does really want to see me tomorrow. I nod. "What part did you forget?"
"The card... it's probably a good thing, because it was really badly written," he chuckles and rolls his eyes at himself.
I feel a moment of panic - I have to have that card. I have to know what he wrote to me. His thoughts about me. What he wants to say to me. "You better give it to me," I say in the most commanding voice I can muster. He just laughs and changes the subject.
We're sitting in a restaurant for my birthday dinner. It's warm outside, and I think the warmth of the evening combined with spending my birthday with someone I care about has me in good spirits. I rub the fabric of my yellow skirt and cross my ankles while I listen to him tell me about his week.
He asks me something about myself, and for some reason a weird feeling comes over me. I smile softly at him, "You don't really care about that," I hear myself saying.
"What do you mean?" he asks, looking confused.
"If you cared, you would have asked me about it a while ago. You would have spent more time talking to me about it. You would have called me. Texted me."
Tension clouds our little table. Suddenly he looks smaller to me.
He sinks back in his chair. "Maybe I won't give you that card after all."
p.s. totally had to stay home from school today because i was dying of sickness.
I'm disappointed, because I was looking forward to the present, but also relieved because that means that he does really want to see me tomorrow. I nod. "What part did you forget?"
"The card... it's probably a good thing, because it was really badly written," he chuckles and rolls his eyes at himself.
I feel a moment of panic - I have to have that card. I have to know what he wrote to me. His thoughts about me. What he wants to say to me. "You better give it to me," I say in the most commanding voice I can muster. He just laughs and changes the subject.
We're sitting in a restaurant for my birthday dinner. It's warm outside, and I think the warmth of the evening combined with spending my birthday with someone I care about has me in good spirits. I rub the fabric of my yellow skirt and cross my ankles while I listen to him tell me about his week.
He asks me something about myself, and for some reason a weird feeling comes over me. I smile softly at him, "You don't really care about that," I hear myself saying.
"What do you mean?" he asks, looking confused.
"If you cared, you would have asked me about it a while ago. You would have spent more time talking to me about it. You would have called me. Texted me."
Tension clouds our little table. Suddenly he looks smaller to me.
He sinks back in his chair. "Maybe I won't give you that card after all."
p.s. totally had to stay home from school today because i was dying of sickness.
I really hope this is exaggerated :(
ReplyDeleteI never exaggerate.
ReplyDeletehaley is so behind the times......i am pretty sure you exaggerate madeline. also, tell me what you think of my fish blog.
ReplyDeleteHaley was talking about me being sick! Which was not an exaggeration except for the dying part, which was clearly not true because I am typing this now feeling much healthier. Were you talking about the actual blog post when you asked about my exaggeration? Because that really wasn't an exaggeration.
ReplyDeleteSo... to clear all this up, the only thing exaggerated was the word "dying". All other words on this post are extremely true.
And your fish blog was good. I felt like it was very metaphorical. Especially the "extensions" part.
I liked this blog post. I like how you said you don't really care about that.
ReplyDelete