Page 54 of Toxic Wishes
As I bit into my toast and chewed slowly, I couldn’t help but feel relief when I knew I was going to a house without Colt Killian.
21
Abigail
“Music is the universal language of mankind.”-Henry Wadsworth Longfellow
I wash my dishes in the sink as I load the dishwasher. It’s been over a week now, and the main house has been rented out for half that time. Any time guests left, I took advantage of doing my chores in the lake house since his attached apartment is functional? but tiny, and I’ve had claustrophobia issues ever since I can remember. I couldn’t be in small places for long, and when I am, I start having panic attacks. I had no idea where I got this phobia, but my sister said it started becoming noticeable when I was six years old, so she would always take me outside to get fresh air. That was the only thing that would calm me down. I loved living in California, my apartment was small, but I spent most of my time out of it rather than in it. Besides, the view in this kitchen was gorgeous. I loved cooking here, and listening to my music outside while I sang to Whitney Houston or whoever I felt in the mood to listen to. I wasn’t joking when I said I loved the beach, but there was just something about being surrounded by trees, land, and lakes. It was not as extravagant as a beach, but it was simple and healing.
After loading up the dishwasher, I padded to the laundry room and removed my clothes from the dryer. After almost seventy-two hours, my mom finally reached out to me, asking where I had been. I’d gone so long without talking to them that I debated whether or not to answer her call. When I let the call go to voicemail, I felt guilty and immediately called her back. I told her I got an apartment for the summer and was just giving her and Dad space since they were trying to figure out their shit. When she asked if I got a job, I lied and told her I did and would be fine. I told her I found a very small apartment so it wasn’t much money a month, which was partly true. I didn’t find a job but this place was cheaper than any other apartment I would find. Can’t beat free. I still felt weird being here, rent-free so when Josh came to visit me a few days ago, and we hung out, I told him I insisted on paying him or his brother something, and if they didn't take my money, I would force them to somehow. Josh told me he would talk to Colt but I know that he was only telling me that to save face and shut me up.
As far as job hunting went, I was not having much luck. A bachelor’s degree in biology didn’t impress many businesses these days. Maybe in the smaller towns, but since Branson isn’t far from Monett, surrounding areas were becoming overpopulated, because people were moving out of Branson and Springfield and into smaller towns.
I walk across the wood floor with my laundry basket and drop it on the bed. My phone buzzes in my pocket. I slide my hand to grab it, not bothering to look at my screen.
“Oh my God!” Mel squeals. I have to hold the phone back from my ear. She’s so loud.
“Girl, the people there are either living under a rock or is it just you.”
“It’s just me,” I say, putting my phone on speaker as I drop it on the bed to fold my clothes.
“How did you not know Colt Killian is the quarterback for the Arizona Cardinals? I mean shit, he’s always on the cover of magazines or in hot sexy commercials for Nike or sports drinks. The man has got it going on, even if he wasn’t a football player.”
“Mel, you know I don’t have time to watch T.V. I’m always working or studying. Even if I did, I would rather cut my left hand off before watching football.”
“Girl, it’s called keeping up with the times. Even if you don’t like football, at least know who the players are to have an intelligent conversation with someone that may be into football. Have I not taught you anything? Men like a smart woman, but they like a smart woman who can fuck and knows about sports even more.” I hear the edge of her tone, and I shake my head slightly as a light rumble roars through my chest.
“Hey I know a little about football, I'm worldly.”
“Okay, then what is his nickname?”
“Bolt Colt,” I say
“Wow, impressive.”
She didn’t have to know I knew that a long time ago when Blake was alive.
“How many touchdowns did he have last season?”
“Uh-seven.”
“No, how many Super Bowls has he played in?” Mel asks.
“One?”
“Oh my God, do you even know who Brad Pitt is?”
“Realty? Of course, I know who Brad Pitt is. He is famous, not just an athlete.”
“Girl, Colt is famous too. Trust me. You’re just nuts.”
“Can’t argue there.” I agreed.
“So, what does it feel like living in his house? Have you sniffed his clothes yet?”
I laugh. “You are so weird. No. He doesn’t live here, even if he did, I wouldn’t be sniffing his boxers. I’d probably catch an STD if I did.”
“Ugh, you’re no fun.” She pouts into the phone.