Chapter Fourteen - Where Have You Been?

Starting the new week, I threw myself into work, trying to focus on my tasks and keep busy. Between meetings and projects, I texted my best friend and my mom, keeping up with the usual banter that made the day go by a little faster. But by Wednesday, a nagging thought settled in—Alex hadn’t responded to my message. In fact, she hadn’t even read it since I sent it on Sunday.

I couldn’t help but wonder what was wrong. Had I come off too strong? Or maybe something had happened that was keeping her from reaching out. I wanted to see her, to check in, but I knew showing up at my mom’s house in the middle of the week without a good reason would look suspicious, maybe even desperate.

So, I decided to text my mom instead, hoping to get some indirect information about Alex without giving away too much. I asked her casually about her week, trying to keep the conversation light. But when her reply came, it shocked me to my core:

Mom Dearest: I have been alone in the house this week, so I’m being naughty until my temporary roommate comes back.

My stomach dropped. Alex had left my mom’s house. Why? And why hadn’t she mentioned anything to me? The worry gnawed at me, a constant undercurrent in my thoughts. What had happened? Why wasn’t she texting me? The silence was deafening, and I hated not knowing what was going on.

I could feel myself slipping into my old habit of overthinking, and with Alex, it was worse. We had started off so well, but now, just like in Paris, everything was falling apart. We kissed, and then she disappeared for days without a word. Was this going to be another repeat of Paris? Would we sleep together, and then she’d leave me with a lie  all over again?

The fear of getting hurt, of being abandoned, was creeping back in. I wanted to trust her, to believe in what we wanted to do, but her silence was breaking my heart. Why couldn’t she just be honest with me? She had my number; she could text if something was wrong. So why hadn’t she?

By Thursday morning, I couldn’t stand it anymore. I told myself not to jump to conclusions, but the anxiety was eating me alive. I decided to send her another text, trying to keep it light but also letting her know I was worried:

Me: Hey, I am free this weekend. Want to do something together? Also, are you okay? You have been awfully quiet. Text me when you see this. Xoxo.

I hit send and held my breath, praying I didn’t sound too clingy or annoying. I hated feeling like this—this was also why I had been so hesitant about relationships. The not knowing, the uncertainty—it could drive anyone crazy. Was this even worth it? Should I have given Alex a chance, or was this just Paris waiting to happen? She didn`t trust easily because of what she went through with my mother, but why was she making it hard for me to trust her then?

Friday arrived, and I felt like I was losing my mind. The worry about Alex had grown into a simmering anger. This was turning into another Paris, only this time it was taking Alex even longer to come back.

Driving home, I tried to think of something—anything—that could distract me from thinking about her. But no matter what I did, she was there, a constant presence in my thoughts, even as I tried to focus on my work project.

When I got back to my apartment, I knew visiting my mom was a bad idea this weekend, not when I felt like I was being heartbroken all over again. So, I decided to make dinner and drown myself in TV. Maybe a movie would help where work couldn’t.

After dishing up, I was just about to settle on the couch when there was a light knock on the door. A part of me—a stupid, hopeful part—wished it was Alex. But I knew that was unlikely, and even though I told myself that, there was still a tiny flicker of hope deep inside.

When I opened the door, disappointment must have been all over my face because my best friend, standing there a little wet from the rain, immediately commented, "Oh, I didn’t know you’d be so disappointed to see me. I could’ve stayed home."

I stepped aside to let her in, not really in the mood for jokes. "Up for a movie?"

"I have ice cream, and I haven’t seen you in a while. What´s happening with you?"

We’d talked during the week about how nervous I was about what Alex and I were starting. Now, I didn’t know whether to tell her that Alex had pulled another disappearing act and that this time it felt like she wasn’t coming back at all. I didn’t want to talk about her. Not now.

"What do you have there?" I asked, nodding toward the shopping bag she was holding, eager to change the subject.

"Some goodies and wine."

"Okay, you’re definitely up for a movie," I said, sitting down. "Grab another glass so we can finish this before starting your bottle."

She gasped. "Are you okay? Why do you want to drink so much? Was this week that bad?"

"Yeah, I’m just tired from work and don’t want to talk about it. So, please." I lied, hoping she won`t push.

"Okay," she said, a hint of concern still in her voice. "I’ve been meaning to re-watch that movie—you know, the one with that woman who cuts her hair. There’s a lot of explosions..."

My heart started pounding. No way. Out of all the movies in the world, she wanted to watch the same one Alex and I watched together at my mother`s house. It was like the universe was mocking me, throwing something intimate in my face just as we were not talking again.

I wanted to scream, to shout, but another knock came on the door. I turned to my friend. "Did you and Tim drive separately?"

Without waiting for an answer, I went to open the door. This time, I wasn’t disappointed by who stood at my door—I was shocked. Standing there, soaking wet, was Alex. She was drenched, as if she’d been standing in the rain for ages.

"Can I please come in?" she asked, her voice barely audible over the sound of the rain.

I opened the door wider, my mind racing. "What happened? You’re wet."

She stepped inside, dripping onto the floor, and I closed the door behind her. I couldn’t believe she was here, and in this state. All the anger, the worry, the confusion—it all swirled together as I looked at her, trying to make sense of the situation.

"Alex, what’s going on?" I asked, my voice a mix of concern and frustration. "Why are you this wet? Did you come on your motorbike?"

She shivered slightly, wrapping her arms around herself as she stood in my living room, looking more vulnerable than I’d ever seen her.

“I’m sorry, Lizzy,” she whispered, her voice trembling. “I needed to come here, to maybe explain... everything. But can we talk? I... I didn’t know where else to go. Also, I couldn’t ignore you forever.”

I stood there, frozen, not knowing what to do or say. She couldn’t ignore me forever? What the hell did that mean? Had she been ignoring me on purpose? And what did she mean she didn’t know where else to go? Where had she been all week? Questions raced through my mind, but I was too stunned to ask any of them.

My best friend cleared her throat, breaking the tense silence from the sitting room. “Lizzy, babe, I think you should lend her some dry clothes first, or else she’ll get sick.”

That snapped me back to reality. I nodded quickly, “Yeah, follow me to the bathroom.” I led Alex down the hall, noticing the trail of water droplets she left behind. I'd have to clean that later, but for now, there were bigger concerns. I pointed her toward the bathroom and went to my bedroom to gather some clothes—a pair of sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a big gown in case she was cold. I grabbed a towel and an extra toothbrush too.

When I returned to the bathroom and knocked, Alex’s voice called out, “It’s open.”

I hesitated for a moment before stepping inside. My breath caught in my throat when I saw her standing there in her soaked underwear and sports bra. How could she be this wet? It looked like she’d been standing in the rain for hours, not just making a quick dash from a car.

“Here,” I said, handing her the clothes. “You can take a warm shower. I’ll be outside if you need anything, just shout.”

Alex took the clothes from me, her hands trembling slightly. “Thank you.”

I pointed around the bathroom, trying to keep my voice steady. “You can use everything in here.” I quickly exited, closing the door behind me and leaning against it, finally letting out the breath I’d been holding. My heart was racing, and I hadn’t even realized I’d been holding my breath.

What the hell was this? I thought as I stood there, forgetting that Lena was waiting.

“You coming, babe?” Lena called out, and I forced myself to join her, though my mind was still spinning.

I sat down, silent, my brain still trying to process what had just happened. Alex was here, drenched and vulnerable, and I had no idea what to make of it.

“Mind telling me who that hot blondie with a short cut is?” Lena asked, breaking the silence. I just looked at her, confused.

“I mean the woman who just walked in and has you now acting crazy. Like your memory is not working. She’s in your bathroom, probably taking a shower by the sound of it.”

“I don’t... I don’t know,” I mumbled, though I wasn’t even sure what I was responding to. My mind was too tangled up in knots.

Lena’s face changed, a mix of concern and panic. “You don’t know? Dude, if you don’t know her, why did you let her into your place? Shouldn’t we call the cops?”

“Wait, what?”

“The stranger in your bathroom!!” Lena was panicking now.

Her panic brought me back to my senses. Of course, I knew who was in my bathroom. I knew her too well—her taste, her touch, everything. I knew her in ways I stupidly still wanted to know her more.

“Elizabeth!” Lena’s voice snapped me back to the present, her tone sharp. “Are you even listening to me? Should I call the cops?”

“Yes… No…” I said, finally gathering my thoughts. “I mean it’s okay. I know who she is. I just... I don’t know what to think of all this, of her being here, drenched like she’s been walking in the rain for hours. I don’t know.”

“Then who is she? Don’t leave me hanging.”

I took a deep breath, the words finally spilling out. “Paris... That’s Paris.”

Her eyes widened in shock and I couldn’t blame her. My own mind was still reeling from the fact that Alex was here, drenched and vulnerable. Lena blinked a few times, trying to process everything.

“What? How did she get here... wet?” she asked, her voice laced with confusion. “And why are you acting so strange? Didn’t you say you two were working things out and starting something?”

I sighed, running a hand through my hair, feeling the weight of the situation pressing down on me. “I don’t want to talk about it, Lena. I honestly don’t know what’s going on right now.”

Lena studied my face for a moment, clearly trying to piece everything together. I mean I wasn't telling her anything. “But... she’s hot. And she looks so much older than you. How old is she?”

“She’s 48,” I replied, the words coming out more bitter than I intended.

Lena’s eyes widened in surprise, but she didn’t get the chance to ask anything else. The sound of the water stopping in the bathroom made us both go quiet. We exchanged a look, and then Lena turned back to the TV, her curiosity clearly still piqued, but she kept silent.

We sat there, watching the screen in a strained silence, the tension in the room thickening with each passing second. My heart pounded in my chest, each beat echoing the chaos in my mind. I had questions but didn't know which one to start with. Also, I didn't know if I should be mad or not.

A few minutes later, Alex emerged from the hallway, her blonde hair still damp but looking more composed. She was wearing the clothes I’d given her, though they hung a little loosely on her.

Lena suddenly stood up, grabbing my hand. She squeezed it, and I turned to face her, confused. Her expression softened, and without a word, she leaned in and kissed me on the lips. It was a brief kiss, but it caught me off guard.

“I’ll call you later babe,” she said, before glancing at Alex with a small nod and heading toward the door. I was left sitting there, the shock of what had just happened settling in. The silence that followed was almost suffocating.

I watched Lena leave, her presence lingering for a moment before the door clicked shut behind her. The room felt heavier with her gone, the atmosphere more charged than before. I turned slowly to face Alex, who was standing there with a look of confusion mixed with something I couldn’t quite place.

She stood there as I sat on the couch, we were in awkward silence until, almost simultaneously, we both spoke up.

“Where have you been?” I asked, my voice carrying the hurt and frustration that had been building all week.

“Was that Mpumi?” Alex asked at the same time, her tone curious, but there was something more behind it—a flicker of jealousy, maybe, or a little bit of anger.

We both paused, the tension between us hanging thick in the air. My mind was racing, trying to make sense of everything, trying to decide whether to answer her question or press her for the answers I needed first.