Ten minutes later I’m pulling in to my driveway and I call Jameson to let him know I’m home. I’d rather do it now then when I’m inside and risk the chance of waking my parents up. There’s no answer, so I leave him a message letting him know I made it home and to call me when he gets home so I know he’s safe.
By some grace of God I’m not locked out. When I’m in my room I look at my phone, Jameson hasn’t called me back yet. He was right behind me when we left Ramsey’s house. Where is he?
Panic is setting in. I start pacing in my small bedroom. And when I say small, I mean small, ten feet by ten feet small. That is just a couple of feet larger than an average jail cell. Now add a bureau, a treadmill, and a twin size bed that I’ve had since I was a small child because my parents refused to buy me a new one. Imagine sleeping on an almost twenty-year-old mattress with springs and coils piercing you with every twist and turn you make. Back and forth, back and forth, twisting my hair in one hand and cracking my knuckles with my other. I pick up my phone wanting to call him again. I just stare at it, unable to dial his number imagining all of the horrific possible things that could have happened. Car accident, arrested for drunk driving, or broken down on a deserted road with no cell phone service. My hands are quivering. I can’t move my fingers to dial his number.
Ring! Bzzzzz! Ring! Bzzzzz! Ring! Bzzzz!
I squeal with nervous energy as the phone drops out of my hands from the unexpected vibrating and ringing that came from it. I drop to my knees to retrieve it from the floor.
“Hello? Jameson?”
“Hey babe. I’m home.”
“What the fuck took you so long? I have been a nervous fucking wreck! I called you! You didn’t answer! Why didn’t you answer?”
I can feel it…The tears are about to start pouring…
“I stopped at the store to get a drink and I ran in to someone I know. I didn’t have my phone on me, so I didn’t know you tried calling.”
“Jesus Fucking Christ! I was freaking out over here! I thought you got in to an accident or arrested for drunk driving!”
“I’m sorry babe. I’m okay. I’m sorry I scared you.”
“So, who did you run in to at the store?” I wondered.
“Um, Pam.”
“Pam, your ex-girlfriend Pam?”
“Yeah.”
A strange feeling fills me up inside. “She doesn’t even live around here Jameson. What was she doing following you?”
“I don’t know. I didn’t ask. It doesn’t matter. All that matters is that you’re home safe and I’m home safe. Right? I don’t know about you but I’m exhausted. Make sure you take two aspirin before you go to sleep so you don’t wake up with a headache from drinking tonight.”
“Alright. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. I’m glad you made it home safe.”
“Goodnight babe.”
He saw Pam. The very serious long-time girlfriend before his mini hook-up with Ally. That’s why he didn’t answer his phone. That’s why he got home late. That’s the reason I was freaking out. It was Pam. My fists tighten. Is she going to become a problem? I don’t know much about their relationship. I only know the few things Tess told me when we talked. I have never asked Jameson. As a matter of fact, he’s never asked me about my past relationships either. All I know is they dated for a couple of years, but I also know that Pam and Jameson’s mom Marcie did not get along.
WAKING UP THE NEXT MORNING my head didn’t hurt as much as I expected. Maybe because I got more sleep than I thought I would, and the fact that it wasn’t morning it was actually one o’clock in the afternoon. Rolling out of bed and stumbling my way down the hall to get a much needed glass of orange juice all the while praying we actually had orange juice in the refrigerator. As I round the corner in to the kitchen I find my mother on her knees in front of the refrigerator cleaning it out.
“Well, look who finally decided to join the land of the living,” she says.
“Yup.”
“So, how was your party? Did you get any good gifts?”
“It wasn’t about gifts mother. It was about having a fun night with our friends. We just did simple grab bags. I told you that.”
“Oh, I know. I just thought …”
“It was fun and a bit interesting…” I stop myself from finishing the sentence. I want to tell her about Jameson proposing but I feel conflicted. She’s my mother, I should be able to tell her anything. I want to tell her. I want to have one of those moments I hear my friends talk about and see on television. That’s not us though, never has been.