Still not into you - Charlotte Byrd Page 0,7
Definitely don’t need the really warm sweaters or the snow boots. Unless, of course, I go skiing, which is a possibility. Shit. I’m going to have to lug all of this crap back home. I start tossing all of my favorite clothes into the bag. I should be rolling them like my dad showed me, to maximize room, but I’m not really in the mood to organize. What will fit will fit and that’s it. I have more clothes at home, clothes that I didn’t wear for four months. Might be a nice change.
As I rummage through the closet, I work up quite a sweat. I decide to open the window to let in some fresh air. I don’t see the box of thank-you cards on the windowsill and they go flying out.
“Shit! Oh my God!” I scream, but it’s too late. They are already halfway down the building. Since they weren’t thank-you cards that I ever planned on mailing out, I didn’t bother with the envelopes. They open up mid-flight and take on air. Most take their time and fall at a leisurely pace, letting the wind take them on an adventure.
“What’s wrong?” I hear someone yell back up to me. It’s Hudson. He’s standing at the bottom of the building.
“My cards!” I scream. “They’re going everywhere!”
“I’ll get them!” he yells.
“I’ll be right down!” I yell back, pulling on my Uggs and grabbing my coat.
With just my luck, the elevator stops at practically every single floor. People are done with finals. They’re happily chatting away. On two occasions, I have to tell them that I’m in a hurry as they hold the elevator open saying their goodbyes. I should’ve taken the stairs, but it’s too late now. I tap my foot anxiously. My cards are probably all over Manhattan now. Ten minutes later, I finally get onto Broadway. Hudson stands at the corner with a thick stack of cards, reading one. I look around the street. Don’t see a single one.
“Hey, that’s private!” I say loudly, so that he can hear me over the sound of afternoon traffic. An ambulance rushes by, deafening me to the point where I can’t even hear my own thoughts.
Hudson doesn’t look up. It’s like he can’t hear me.
“That’s private,” I say, walking up to him. He looks up.
“It’s addressed to me,” he says.
From the cover, I can tell that he’s reading the last card I wrote. Why did it have to be that one? I wish more than anything that he were reading any other card.
“It’s still private. I didn’t mean for you to read it. I was never going to send it.”
“Dear Hudson.” He ignores me and starts reading. I try to get the card out of his hand, but he lifts it above his head, continues to read out loud. “Dear Hudson, I’m just writing to say thank you. Thank you for coming back into my life as a friend. Thank you for saying all those things you said. I’ve been waiting for you to say them for a very long time. I love you, too. I’m going to love you for as long as I live. You were the best first boyfriend that a girl could dream of. I don’t think I’m ever going to be ready to say goodbye, but that’s what I’m doing now. I know you said that you want me back, but I’m afraid. Afraid of going through all of this again. The thing is, Hudson, I need a sign. I need a sign that getting back together is the right thing to do. Until then, I’m going to say thank you and goodbye. Love, Alice.”
“That was private,” I say.
“I know,” Hudson says.
He hands me the stack of thank-you cards and walks away. Slowly, the rest of the world comes into focus. Cars are honking. An ambulance is blaring. People are darting around me. The whole world that was nothing but background noise a minute ago, floods in. There’s no room in it for me.
I ride the elevator back to the dorm completely numb. Doors open and close. People get in and out. They laugh and embrace and say goodbye. I see everything happening, but I don’t understand any of it. They look like two-dimensional people. Characters. I wonder if they’re real and how anyone would know for sure.
6
Juliet, Dylan, and I go out for drinks with a few other people from our floor. Apparently, Hudson texted Dylan and said that he’ll be by later. I