Landon and I take our usual seats on the leather couch and I turn on the surround sound. The pre-game show roars to life on the TV; the Panthers are playing the Steelers and, as usual, this should be a good game.
“Did you want to get tickets for a home game again this season?” Landon asks. It’s been our “guys’ weekend” every year for the last five years. We spend the weekend in Charlotte and catch a Panthers’ home game and visit some of the guys we used to work with that now live there.
“Hell yeah. Wouldn’t miss it.” The sound of my cell phone ringing interrupts our planning.
“Need to get that?” he asks, eyeing the ringing phone on the coffee table.
“Nah, just going to let it go to voicemail.” He looks at me skeptically.
“It’s not Lindsay; she has a different ringtone.” He nods his head and takes a long pull on his beer. “I did talk to her last week, though. She told me to let you know she’s sorry she hasn’t called. She’s been busy.”
“Busy?” he scoffs. “I haven’t heard from her since she called right after she arrived. I’ve left her voice messages and text messages and, quite frankly, I’m pissed off,” he snaps at me.
“She’s adjusting,” I remind him. I can’t believe I’m actually making excuses for her. “She didn’t sound good, honestly. She sounded tired and emotional.”
“Emotional? That’s not like her,” Reagan interrupts as she comes into the living room from the kitchen, carrying a bowl of Doritos.
“I know. We only talked for about a minute before she cut me off.” I feel guilty for not having told Landon and Reagan about our conversation earlier.
“So you called her?” Reagan asks as she arranges the magazines on the coffee table into a neat pile as she moves our beers to the center of the table.
“I did,” I admit humbly. “I had to,” I whisper.
“What time is it there?” Landon asks, reaching for his phone. You can hear the agitation in his voice.
“Three hours behind us, babe,” Reagan reminds him. “But you’re not calling her right now, so put the phone away. You’re angry and if she’s having a hard time, you being upset with her isn’t going to help. Let’s watch the game, relax, and maybe we’ll all call her later. Put her on speakerphone. We’ll make it a light-hearted call, tell her we all miss her, and to call us when she has time. You know, keep it short and sweet, and pleasant.” She raises her eyebrows at Landon and plasters a stiff smile on her face. Landon and I both nod before turning back to the football game on the TV.#p#分页标题#e#
Other friends from the police department have stopped by to catch the game and even my brother dropped by for a short bit. I will admit the company was nice and reminded me of old times, having everyone over. Reagan is in the kitchen, cleaning up, and Landon and I catch the game highlights on ESPN.
“What’s this?” Landon grabs a magazine off my coffee table.
“Travel magazine.”
“Are you taking a trip?”
“Nah. I had ordered it before Lindsay left. I had thought about seeing if she wanted to take a short European vacation this fall.”
“She would have loved that. She always talked about going to Europe. You know she’s never left the country, right?”
“I know—something about flying over water.” I laugh.
“Speaking of Lindsay now that things have calmed down, should we call her?” Reagan asks as she sneaks back in the room and pulls her phone from her back pocket. She clicks the speakerphone function and grabs the remote from the coffee table, muting the TV. The phone rings three times, then a fourth before it finally clicks and we all hear the muffled sounds of Lindsay and another man. Reagan shoves the phone back in her pocket and offers me a sympathetic look before excusing herself to the kitchen.
“Matt?” I can hear Landon trying to get my attention, but I can’t focus on anything right now. Landon and I sit in silence as every thought imaginable runs through my head.
I’m not sure how long I sat lost in visions of another man with Lindsay. My ears fill to the sound of blood rushing to my head. I remember very little, other than Landon pulling me off the wall I was punching holes into. Everything happened in a blur. Reagan is holding ice on my hand. Time ceased to exist for a matter of moments, or maybe hours. I now know that I believe in nothing I thought I believed in when it came to Lindsay and me. Is this what hatred feels like? I feel nothing but anger and rage, and I want nothing more than to kill the male voice on the end of that phone line.