Fidelity Files
“Sophie's voice was echoing in my mind. I turned on my bedside lamp and stared at my phone. Should I call her? It's not like it was the first time we'd had a fight in our twenty years of friendship. But this one was different. It stood out among all the squabbles about borrowing skirts and forgetting to return phone calls and breaking plans to hang out with boys.
She had touched upon something. And for the life of me, I couldn't manage to let it go.
I checked the clock on my cell phone. It was t...oo late to call her, anyway. Besides, why should I be the one to call? She was being unreasonable and insensitive, too. She should be the one to apologize first.
Right?
As I lay my head back against my pillow and stared at the white stucco ceiling of my three-bedroom condo, paid for with my own, hard-earned money, decorated with my own burning desire to live in a world of whiteness and clarity, the confusion slowly began to unravel. And the walls started to close in.
I attempted to distract myself by trying to outline shapes in the seemingly random arrangements of white cement that covered my ceiling, just as I had done so many times as a young girl, sleeping with the lights on, searching for anything that might appear recognizable and therefore meaningful.MoreLess
She had touched upon something. And for the life of me, I couldn't manage to let it go.
I checked the clock on my cell phone. It was t...oo late to call her, anyway. Besides, why should I be the one to call? She was being unreasonable and insensitive, too. She should be the one to apologize first.
Right?
As I lay my head back against my pillow and stared at the white stucco ceiling of my three-bedroom condo, paid for with my own, hard-earned money, decorated with my own burning desire to live in a world of whiteness and clarity, the confusion slowly began to unravel. And the walls started to close in.
I attempted to distract myself by trying to outline shapes in the seemingly random arrangements of white cement that covered my ceiling, just as I had done so many times as a young girl, sleeping with the lights on, searching for anything that might appear recognizable and therefore meaningful.MoreLess
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