Madness In Literature

Five

Mel didn't see Dean again for a long time after that night. In fact, by the time she next saw him, a few months had passed from their last encounter. It wasn't that she didn't want to, because she did. She had given him her number that Friday night, hoping he would call or message her over the weekend, but he hadn't. He didn't call the Monday, or the Tuesday, or the Wednesday after...and after a while, she stopping hoping. He wasn't around in classes either, not even in Madness in Literature lectures, which puzzled her. Attendance wasn't strict in their college per se, but there was still a limit to the number of classes one could miss if he wanted to pass the final exam. And judging from the number of assignments he had missed, she would say that he didn't have much chances of doing that.

By the time December came around, bringing about unfortunates sleets of slushy rain and very little warmth, she had almost pushed Dean out of her mind. Almost. It wasn't her fault he hadn't called, she told herself. She had done all she could to be friendly to him, listened to his horrible band, and even gave him her number without much fuss. No, she thought, she had made it pretty obvious that she was into him. It just wasn't meant to be that he wasn't as fond of her as she thought he was. She tried not to over-think their short relationship as she went about her life, but sometimes, she just couldn't help it. Like when it rained, which it did often in Lynnwood, for example, or when she dropped by the campus cafe to grab a cup of tea. She thought a lot about how he said he liked the tea even though it was cold, how he listened to her ramble on about heaven and earth, and how he told her she might be the best girl in the world, and it always left her with the same thing: an empty feeling, as though there was a hollow part of her that only his presence could fill.

It didn't make any bloody sense to her.

Sometimes, she'd get angry. How could he say all these things, she would fume to Emily, and expect a girl not to be affected? Was he just being friendly? Did he do this with all the other girls he found interesting? Did he ask for their numbers, and then not call as well? She didn't know, and neither did Emily. The only things Emily did know were a few choice swear words that she generously used on Dean, which didn't help Mel's case. Sometimes, she felt a sense of confusion. How could someone affect her so much? He was just a boy, for god's sake. Yet there was she was, cursing the wind and watching movies where pretty boys get decapitated just to make herself feel better about a boy she didn't even date. Just the thought of it made Mel feel like throwing a ball at someone's face. 

And then, after months of putting Mel through misery, he called. It happened on an uneventful Wednesday night, when she was at home working on a ton of schoolwork. An unfamiliar number flashed across her screen, and she picked up her phone absentmindedly (she was in the midst of writing a long, confusing analysis on the development of CNN from a small company to a huge media outlet) and pressed answer without guessing who it might be.

"Hello?"

She waited but there was no reply from the other side of the line. She frowned and tried again. "Hello?"

"Hey."

And just like that, CNN flew right out her mind. She didn't need to ask who it was to know that it was him calling.

"Hey," she said quietly, dropping her pen and sitting upright. He was calling her. He was calling her. But why?

"Are you free tonight?" he asked.

Say no, that's what Emily would have said to Mel if she was here. Tell him you're not his booty call, and that he can't ring you up after months of no news and expect you to make time for him. But Emily wasn't here, and Mel wasn't particularly good at saying no, especially not when boys with pretty eyes called Dean were involved. So, instead of being strong and firm and indignant, she found herself asking, "Why?"