CHAPTER NINE
Serafina
Peter doesn’t wish me a happy anniversary as he kisses me goodbye in the morning.
I can’t believe it.
I try to tell myself that it doesn’t mean anything, that it doesn’t mean he forgot our anniversary. I actually say out loud, “It doesn’t mean anything.” That helps a little bit and as I return to our bedroom, I feel at least not as offended. As I shower, I actually convince myself it’s nothing to worry about, that he didn’t forget.
When I get dressed, I’m certain he forgot.
In the car on the way to school, I’m sure he didn’t forget.
By the time the first break comes an hour and fifteen minutes in class, I know without any doubt at all he forgot our anniversary. It isn’t like I can concentrate on class anyway. I just walk to my car and leave for the office. I’m off today and my boss tells me to use the time to study. I don’t want him to know what’s up or to realize I skipped the last half of class so I leave and head to Tabitha’s house. She’s not there. I start driving toward the apartment but can’t bear the idea of just sitting around. I had my hair done just a few days ago but I drive to the hair salon anyway. Sharon’s working today, so it’s not like I can drive to her house.
She looks up at me with a smile and says, “Something wrong with your hair?”
“I thought I’d let you give me a pedicure,” I say.
She starts to nod and then stops and looks at my face. “Something’s wrong,” she says. I nod and try to hold back tears. She rushes to me and takes my hand. She leads me to a station in the back and sits me down. “Let me take the last lady’s money,” she says.
I sit there and I’m glad my friend is sensitive enough she sat me far away from anyone else. I don’t know what else to do so take my shoes off like I’m really getting a pedicure. When she gets back, she sees my feet are bare and lifts my ankles up to put my feet in the basin. She presses a button and it fills with water. She adds a soaking solution and starts the low-powered, jacuzzi like jets. Then she says, “you didn’t come here for your feet, Sera.”
I smiled a bit sadly and say, “You know, you’re the only person on Earth who calls me Sear.”
“The first day I met you, I called you Fina and you punched me.”
I laugh and say, “We were in third grade, for fuck’s sake.”
“Best friends ever since,” she says, “and best friends get special names. Now stop stalling and tell me what’s wrong.”
I sigh and try to keep from crying as I say, “He forgot our anniversary.” I try but I fail. A moment later, she’s hugging me. It’s an awkward position because of the pedicure setup but it feels good anyway. Finally, I stop crying and pull back. She hands me a dry cloth to use like a handkerchief and I chuckle and say, “I guess I should have you do my makeup now, too.”
“You look fine,” she says.
“I just can’t believe it,” I say, “I mean, it feels almost like Peter would have to work hard to forget something. He’s always on top of things.”
“Yeah,” she says, “doesn’t sound like him at all, honey. I’m going next door to get you ice cream while your feet soak.”
“Okay,” I whisper. I lift up my phone and check my texts. I don’t know why I expect to see a text from Peter. There isn’t one. I can’t believe how much this hurts. I guess in the past this would just be an excuse for me to take someone to task. This is different, though. This doesn’t make me angry. It hurts like hell.
Of course, the more I think about it, the angrier I get. I’ve completely transformed my life because of this guy. I’ve settled down and now most of when I act like a bitch it’s just because he likes it and I like for him to correct me for it. I’m working on becoming a full-fledged lawyer just as much because he wants me to as because I want to.
I’m doing everything, giving everything to this relationship that I have within me.
How the hell does a man forget our anniversary?
Sharon returns with the ice cream and hands me a cone. It’s a wonder the thing doesn’t melt right away as I take it from her. She looks at me and says, “You’re not sad anymore. You’re pissed off.” I don’t reply and she says, “At least give him a chance to explain.”
“Fine,” I say. It’s bullshit, of course. How the hell does someone explain away missing the one-year anniversary? I think about all the ways to get back at him as she does the pedicure and she’s silent while she works. When she finishes, I say, “Thanks Sharon. I needed this time.”
“Sera,” she says, “at least promise me you’ll think about it. You’ll try to calm down and give him a chance, okay?”
“All right. I’ll think about it,” I say.
And I do. I think about it as long as it takes for me to walk out of the hair salon, ten feet down the sidewalk, and then around to the driver’s door of my car. By the time I’m in the driver’s seat, I have my plan. I almost send him a text. Instead, I just drive four hours away to a little highway petting zoo. I stay there an hour and then drive back. I’m three hours from home when I get the text asking me where I am.
I text back that an asshole who forgets our one-year anniversary doesn’t get to know.
He asks when I’ll be home.
I text I’ll be home when I get there and then ignore my phone ringing. A few hours later, I step through the front door and glare at him as he sits on the couch with a stern expression on his face.