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The next day, I managed to make it through an entire shift at Macy’s without talking to anyone. The kids were all back in school, so I had zero customers in the Urban Streetwear section. Just an endless loop of 50 Cent and Jay-Z songs to keep me company.
That night, I avoided my parents, fed my dinner to Ringo, and spent the evening researching eating disorders. As I stared at the sunken faces and protruding clavicles on the pages of my psychology textbook, I was racked with pangs of jealousy.
Pinching the tiny fold of skin that had developed above my waistband since I started dating Ken, I thought, They take laxatives to lose weight too? I’ll have to try that.
I’d engrossed myself in my studies to the point that I hadn’t thought about Ken in hours. I’d felt him—or rather, his absence—but I told myself the void I felt was just my empty stomach. That was the feeling of success. I especially liked it when the edges of my vision got blurry and my hands shook. It had been too long since I felt like that. I was always having to eat to keep Ken off my back.
Well, not anymore.
Shit. I thought about him.
It was as if he’d heard me. Before I’d even pushed the image of his aqua eyes out of my mind, Ken’s name was lighting up my phone screen. Just below the time—11:11.
“Hello?”
“Hey.”
I didn’t even respond. I just sat there and waited for him to get to the fucking point.
“How was your day?”
Is he fucking serious right now?
“Uh…I’ve had better. How was yours?” I made sure to inject an ample amount of sarcasm into the end of that question to make it clear that I didn’t actually give a shit.
“It was…weird.”
“Weird?”
“Yeah. I just…I don’t know. It feels weird.”
“Okay.”
God, this is stupid. What are we even talking about right now? I hope he can hear my eyes rolling.
“So…you had work today, right? Tuesdays and Thursdays?”
What the fuck is he getting at?
“Uh-huh…”
“How was it?”
“Uh, boring as shit. The usual. I think the only customer I had all day was a shoplifter.”
“Really? Did you call security?”
“No. I’m not a fucking snitch.”
Ken chuckled.
I sat up in bed and reached for my pack of cigarettes.
“Are you on your way home from work?” I mumbled with a Camel Light between my teeth.
“Yeah.”
I pictured him in his dress shirt and slacks, tie loosened, hair disheveled, and I kinda wanted to reach through the phone and run my fingers through it. Then, I wanted to grab it and yank as hard as I could.
