*Beep*
“You’ve reached my voicemail; leave your name and number after the beep and I’ll get back to you later.” Her machine recorded voice instructed me.
Again she hadn’t answered, no surprise there. But this time I would leave a machine recording of my own this time. I sighed and took a deep breath.
The single high-pitched beep sounded; my cue to start speaking.
“Hey,” I began pathetically. “I’m not really sure of what to say. Not really sure what I can say. Nothing will make what I said right.” I took a shallow, shaky breath. I ran my hand through my hair and paced in my hall. “I’m so sorry, Mel.” My voice full of emotion. “I can’t really tell you just how sorry I am. I never meant to say such a . . . such an awful, hurtful thing.
“I know, but I did say it. Couldn’t you at least talk to me? Let me know if there’s any way I can fix this? I’m so sorry.” I stopped pacing for a moment and looked out of the kitchen widow to the swing set in my back yard. An odd thing for a twenty-something guy to have in his back yard, I know. But I didn’t think of that. I thought about all the nights we had spent this summer. Just sitting on those swings. Had I really taken all of that away from myself?
“Please tell me what I can do Melanie. I love you.” I pressed the end button on the phone and placed it back on the receiver.
“I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” I said aloud to the empty house, “Wait for her to call back.”
I walked slowly to the back window to better look at the swing set:
I suppose I should start with the beginning of all of this. Meeting Mel. Falling for her; and the worst mistake of my life.
We’ll start with Mel. Melanie Richardson. We met in high school our junior year, but we didn’t really get to know one another until senior year. That’s when we had AP English. We’re both English nerds, but Mel has this special knack for finding the right words. She could write about anything and it would be a masterpiece. Her ability to create such amazing works of literature awed me. It still does. I still remember the first thing she said to me.
“So Nathan, when were you going to stop giving me that awed look and talk to me?” That comment turned me about twenty shades of red. No one called me Nathan for one, it was always Nathaniel. And then there was the cool confidence she possessed. Oh, and her way with words, let’s not forget that. I think that is where it all started. I think that’s when I started to fall for Mel.
After that first conversation though, we were always together. Hanging out with each other or our combined circle of friends. It surprised me just how much we had in common, just how well we got along. We were never at a loss for words, there was always something one of us wanted to tell the other. Always something for us to talk about; something for or us to do. We went on adventures together. ‘Exploring’ the park near by or just going to a different coffee shop in town. I was never bored when I was with Mel. We always had fun; it was just so easy to be together.
Finally, around the end of the year, I got up the courage to ask her to prom, in other words, to be my girlfriend. And do you know what she said to me after a minor pause?
“About damn time Nathan.”
So it started there. That’s when I fell for her. I knew we would make it. We were perfect together, well, as perfect as you can get. We still had the occasional argument, but we were always ready to make up soon after. We went to the same collage and even shared a class here and there.
The thing you have to know about Mel though; is her past. It’s not pretty, or happy. She had a difficult childhood. I still don’t know the completely story, but I do know more than most people, for which I’m thankful.
She can’t handle certain things. Her father skipped out on her and her mother when she was small and they got a divorce, but he didn’t stay gone. He came back when she was ten or eleven.
“For the first year it was pretty good” She told me one evening on the swings, her hair gently moving in the breeze. “He was nice to us, took care of us. But it all went down hill after the one year mark.” She looked away from me and to the stars above us. “It started with the occasional harsh word. We thought he was just going through some phase.” A slight bitter smile fell on her lips. “But then it led to something worse, much worse.” She took a deep breath, as if to calm herself. She didn’t say anything else for a long time. So I pulled her swing closer, picked her up and placed her in my own lap. The swings creaked lightly. I held her like that for fifteen minutes before she finally spoke.
“He hit her first. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there and before I had realized he was speaking to me, he came at me, punched me in the eye. The he stormed out of the house. My mother crawled over to me and held me, crying and apologizing. She kept saying, ‘I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” A few tears leaked from her eyes, I wiped them away with me first finger.
She cried, I murmured to her, “Melanie, so long as I live, I promise I will do everything I can to make sure no one ever hurts you again.” I kissed her forehead and fighting my own tears, “I promise.”
That was the first time we were on the swings. After that it became our spot to talk about things, even silly, unimportant things. So much had happen there. Even our last fight, where I said the worse thing I possibly could have. Where I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I can’t believe I said it.
“Shut the f*** up Melanie!”
I said that to her. The same words her dad had yelled at her countless times before he hit her. As the words left my mouth I regretted them. I can’t even remember why I was so angry, it had been a bad day; and I took it out on her. She took off right after I said it. I didn’t even get to say sorry.
She wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I tried to go to her dorm room, but no one ever answered the door.
In class she was always there two second before the bell rang and she was the first one out the door; so I couldn’t speak to her then. As if she would look at me.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Then my reminiscing was interrupted by a shrill ring.
My eyes grew wide and I raced to pick up the phone and look at the caller ID. A short thrill went through my heart. We would make it. We could do this. We would do this. I pressed talk.
“Mel.”
“You’ve reached my voicemail; leave your name and number after the beep and I’ll get back to you later.” Her machine recorded voice instructed me.
Again she hadn’t answered, no surprise there. But this time I would leave a machine recording of my own this time. I sighed and took a deep breath.
The single high-pitched beep sounded; my cue to start speaking.
“Hey,” I began pathetically. “I’m not really sure of what to say. Not really sure what I can say. Nothing will make what I said right.” I took a shallow, shaky breath. I ran my hand through my hair and paced in my hall. “I’m so sorry, Mel.” My voice full of emotion. “I can’t really tell you just how sorry I am. I never meant to say such a . . . such an awful, hurtful thing.
“I know, but I did say it. Couldn’t you at least talk to me? Let me know if there’s any way I can fix this? I’m so sorry.” I stopped pacing for a moment and looked out of the kitchen widow to the swing set in my back yard. An odd thing for a twenty-something guy to have in his back yard, I know. But I didn’t think of that. I thought about all the nights we had spent this summer. Just sitting on those swings. Had I really taken all of that away from myself?
“Please tell me what I can do Melanie. I love you.” I pressed the end button on the phone and placed it back on the receiver.
“I guess there’s nothing to do but wait,” I said aloud to the empty house, “Wait for her to call back.”
I walked slowly to the back window to better look at the swing set:
I suppose I should start with the beginning of all of this. Meeting Mel. Falling for her; and the worst mistake of my life.
We’ll start with Mel. Melanie Richardson. We met in high school our junior year, but we didn’t really get to know one another until senior year. That’s when we had AP English. We’re both English nerds, but Mel has this special knack for finding the right words. She could write about anything and it would be a masterpiece. Her ability to create such amazing works of literature awed me. It still does. I still remember the first thing she said to me.
“So Nathan, when were you going to stop giving me that awed look and talk to me?” That comment turned me about twenty shades of red. No one called me Nathan for one, it was always Nathaniel. And then there was the cool confidence she possessed. Oh, and her way with words, let’s not forget that. I think that is where it all started. I think that’s when I started to fall for Mel.
After that first conversation though, we were always together. Hanging out with each other or our combined circle of friends. It surprised me just how much we had in common, just how well we got along. We were never at a loss for words, there was always something one of us wanted to tell the other. Always something for us to talk about; something for or us to do. We went on adventures together. ‘Exploring’ the park near by or just going to a different coffee shop in town. I was never bored when I was with Mel. We always had fun; it was just so easy to be together.
Finally, around the end of the year, I got up the courage to ask her to prom, in other words, to be my girlfriend. And do you know what she said to me after a minor pause?
“About damn time Nathan.”
So it started there. That’s when I fell for her. I knew we would make it. We were perfect together, well, as perfect as you can get. We still had the occasional argument, but we were always ready to make up soon after. We went to the same collage and even shared a class here and there.
The thing you have to know about Mel though; is her past. It’s not pretty, or happy. She had a difficult childhood. I still don’t know the completely story, but I do know more than most people, for which I’m thankful.
She can’t handle certain things. Her father skipped out on her and her mother when she was small and they got a divorce, but he didn’t stay gone. He came back when she was ten or eleven.
“For the first year it was pretty good” She told me one evening on the swings, her hair gently moving in the breeze. “He was nice to us, took care of us. But it all went down hill after the one year mark.” She looked away from me and to the stars above us. “It started with the occasional harsh word. We thought he was just going through some phase.” A slight bitter smile fell on her lips. “But then it led to something worse, much worse.” She took a deep breath, as if to calm herself. She didn’t say anything else for a long time. So I pulled her swing closer, picked her up and placed her in my own lap. The swings creaked lightly. I held her like that for fifteen minutes before she finally spoke.
“He hit her first. I didn’t know what to do. I just stood there and before I had realized he was speaking to me, he came at me, punched me in the eye. The he stormed out of the house. My mother crawled over to me and held me, crying and apologizing. She kept saying, ‘I’m so sorry baby, I’m so sorry.” A few tears leaked from her eyes, I wiped them away with me first finger.
She cried, I murmured to her, “Melanie, so long as I live, I promise I will do everything I can to make sure no one ever hurts you again.” I kissed her forehead and fighting my own tears, “I promise.”
That was the first time we were on the swings. After that it became our spot to talk about things, even silly, unimportant things. So much had happen there. Even our last fight, where I said the worse thing I possibly could have. Where I made one of the biggest mistakes of my life. I can’t believe I said it.
“Shut the f*** up Melanie!”
I said that to her. The same words her dad had yelled at her countless times before he hit her. As the words left my mouth I regretted them. I can’t even remember why I was so angry, it had been a bad day; and I took it out on her. She took off right after I said it. I didn’t even get to say sorry.
She wouldn’t answer my calls or texts. I tried to go to her dorm room, but no one ever answered the door.
In class she was always there two second before the bell rang and she was the first one out the door; so I couldn’t speak to her then. As if she would look at me.
_______________________________________________________________________________________
Then my reminiscing was interrupted by a shrill ring.
My eyes grew wide and I raced to pick up the phone and look at the caller ID. A short thrill went through my heart. We would make it. We could do this. We would do this. I pressed talk.
“Mel.”
