FicWad

The numbers were smudged. The scrap of paper wrinkled from a pocket's harbor. It felt like a boulder in there, yet I refused to acknowledge it. Yet, the digits were sweeping through my mind like hurricane. I could have memorized it if I had let myself. I went throughout my day doing the normal activities- Eating, sleeping, opening up a new bottle of Jack, reading Ashlee's note, remembering, regretting. But a new task had involuntarily written itself onto my imaginary to-do list- keep checking to see if Avery's phone number was still in my pocket. Sometimes I had even removed it from my pants and into my hoodie. I didn't look at it or even do anything productive with it. I just made sure it was still there.

So as I sprawl in my sheets at the ungodly hours of night, I take out the scrap of paper with her phone number on it, and I religiously turn it over in my sweaty hands. I examine the crease marks of its folds and trace her handwriting with my fingers. I don't even remember the last time a girl gave me her number. I don't even know why she had given it to me in the first place. At the grocery story, I wasn't charming or funny or any of that. I was just myself. Nervous, distant. I made conversation to be polite, but Avery had done most of the talking. She was the charming and funny one, and it was hard to not smile at things she had said. I had no idea why she was wasting her time with some clueless basket case like myself. But she seemed sweet. And she was incredibly helpful.

"Just call me if you ever need help with groceries again or something." She had told me as she scribbled seven numbers on paper and folded it up to give to me. I just blinked at it when she put it in my hand. As I just stood there like a shocked idiot, she smiled at me and went to her car.

Avery was kind. She was honest. She was dedicated to her career of nursing. But I kind of doubted her intelligence for handing her number to me. I wasn't totally horrified by it, though. And if I'm being honest with myself, I actually liked that she gave it to me. And if I'm being completely honest, I didn't mind her flirtations at the store, either. And it wasn't like she was unattractive, either...

No. I couldn't let myself think these things. Why would I put myself on a path of even more destruction when I've already hit all the road bumps? And better yet, why would I put someone else on that path with me? I peered down to the number and considered throwing it away. Yet, I still lied there just looking at it. I couldn't stop. I fell asleep with it clutched in my hand.

----

"Wake the fuck up."

My eyes opened to the blurry image of Patrick hovering over my body, opening up the blinds to let sunlight slice through my window, hurting my tired eyes. He gave me a look that could either read "Poor dude" or "What a pathetic mess" yet somehow I had an inkling that it was the latter. He examined my face with skeptic eyes, shaking his head in disapproval.

"What?" my voice croaked out.

"It's noon, dude. Get up and at least look presentable for your son."

I sat up and rubbed the crust from my eyes as Avery's number fell from my hand, forgetting it was still there. Patrick had rolled his eyes and picked it up.

"If this is Ashlee's note, I'm going to---" he started, stopping as a "Dear Pete" did not appear on the page. Instead, it was replaced with smudged numbers of another woman's handwriting. A smile appeared on his face, as he looked to me.

"My God, is this a woman's phone number?" He exclaimed as I just grabbed the number back.

"Where's Bronx?" I asked, avoiding the question and getting up to find some pants.

"He's in the living room watching cartoons. Now answer the question."

"Yes, okay, yes! It is a woman's phone number. I met her at the store. I didn't know what the fuck I was doing and she helped me with my groceries. That is all. Can we drop this?" I groaned, putting on wrinkled jeans found in the hamper.

"Wait, you actually had a social interaction with another human being? And you didn't scare her away? I'm impressed."

"Shut up, Patrick. She was just being nice."

"Well I guess she wants to get extra nice if she gave you her number." He laughed.

"Will you can it?"

"You need to call her."

"You're joking, right?"

"No. You need to call her! Go out on a date with her!"

"I am not ready for dating." I gave him a stern look. I can't believe he's telling me to do these things with my situation.

"Only because you won't let yourself be ready. You need to get out of this house and actually have some sort of human contact."

"Oh, but Patrick darling, your contact is all I ever need." I said sarcastically, giving him a loving, yet mocking look. He just rolled his eyes.

"Listen, Pete. I'm serious. You know what Bronx asked me when he was over at my place?" Patrick asked, and that's when I got serious.

"What did he ask?"

"He asked why Daddy was sad. Look, kids pick up on these things. And I know you don't want Bronx worrying about you. He already has no clue when his mom will be home."

Patrick always knew right where to hit me.

"I just think this might be good for you. You've got to start moving on. Not just for you. But for Bronx too."

I just sat back down on my bed and looked at him. What could I say to that? If my ways were affecting Bronx, I had to do something about it. No ifs, ands, or buts about it.

"Okay. I'll call her. For Bronx."

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I'm so sorry that this chapter took so long to put up! Forgive me, please? :(