Queen of Space

Space? He wants space? Well I'm the Queen of Space. I think he just doesn't want any accountability.

So I send a few texts to MJoy and set the phone back on my nightstand to presumably remain silent until it acts as my alarm in the morning. I roll over in bed and resume watching my DVD of Felicity. It's early in season two and she's just cut her hair. It's been 10 years and I still haven't gotten over this.

Another episode begins. I would normally be asleep by this hour, but I'm not tired as of yet. I haven't cried, I haven't anything. My phone chimes from the nightstand. A text.

"Good night," it reads. From Christopher.

Queen of Space I think, and I go back to Felicity. I was always Team Ben. And Team Noel.

***

Monday I head over to MJoy's for some girl talk and shopping. We shopped together the day before, but now I had a whole other excuse to spend money on myself.

I'm browsing the racks at Kohl's when my purse vibrates. I fish out my phone, assuming it's MJoy who was on her way. I picked up the call before looking at the screen. It reads "C Dad," Christopher's father from up north.

Christopher's parents are older, which makes total sense because Christopher is almost 8 years older than me. But I still never get used to the sound of his voice. It's innocent and endearing, a grandparent's voice.

"I'm sorry to bother you," his voice shakes, "but I've been calling Christopher since 11 am and he hasn't answered the phone. I've called him at least 10 times. Have you seen him?"

I check my watch. It's 8 pm. "He's sleeping," I state matter-of-factly.

"No, that's impossible. I've been calling since 11 am."

"No, he's sleeping," I state again. I take a breath, "We had sort of a falling out last night. But he's had this cold--"

"I know he has a cold," the father defends his son before he even knows why.

"And he's been taking," I feel myself begin to filter my words, "an antihistamine to sleep off the cold. So he's awake all night and sleeps all day." I almost mention the temporary job that Christopher got then promptly quit, but obviously Christopher has been shielding his parents.

"Oh." There's silence. I feel stupid having this conversation in Kohl's with the background music playing. "I'm really worried about him," his voice shakes again.

I sigh, unemotional. "I am too. I've tried to take him out and get some food in him, but he doesn't want to leave his apartment. He's just in a real dark place right now."

I know his father knows of real, dark places too. I wonder if he knows that I know.

"I'm sorry for bothering you," he repeats.

I've never met him, but I love Christopher's father. I openly wish he was my father. I try to sound cheery, "It's no problem. You may call anytime."

I hang up the phone and for the first time I feel a rush of grief. Whatever chances Christopher and I had are now gone because I spoke to his father. I wish I had checked my phone first.

I called my mother in a panic. My previous experience with a boyfriend's family was traumatic. S's parents would call to talk and I'd talk back normally, not knowing S lied about this or was deceitful about that. He would find out and then scream at me that I'm not allowed to talk to his parents ever. If they were to call, I wasn't allowed to pick up. He would get in my face and scream at me to stay out of his life, which confused me because we were in a relationship and living together. I imagined that Christopher would send a text saying to stay out of his life and that would be the end of that.

My mother told me not to worry. That the father needed to know what was going on. She said I put Christopher's welfare above my own want to be with him by telling the father what I did. Didn't I want Christopher to get better? I spoke the truth.

MJoy didn't share my fear when I told her what happened. She's constantly telling me to not compare Christopher with S. I don't think I'm consciously doing that; I'm just drawing from my previous experiences.

After that I couldn't smile or even talk. She was shopping happily and I was unable to interact. When she asked what next, I said alcohol.

We went to her favorite bar, the one she always writes about. She spoke while I mainly listened. It took me two hours to drink two beers.

Almost home, I fish for my phone again to let MJoy know I was safe. There were three texts from Christopher. The first one was commentary on The Bachelor, the second one apologized for his father calling me, and the third read, "Bye forever."

"Bye forever" is a joke I use with him. If I'm, say, going to go get something out of the car, I'll wave at the door and cheerily call, "Bye forever!" But I can't read emotion in text and our relationship is in a precarious position and he is depressed.

I flip my left turn signal on and head to his apartment. I am the Queen of Space no more.