Russian Roulette
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
"He's going back home. How do I tell him how I really feel?" she asks herself frantically as she reads and rereads the text he sent her. She nearly dropped her phone when she saw it come in. "How could this have happened?"
She knew exactly how it happened. It was only a matter of time before he became a free agent and he was to leave her again. Once he was traded from the Sabres, she knew it was the beginning of the end. Two dismal seasons in Buffalo, a fantastic year in Atlanta, and she knew, deep down in her heart that it was coming.
Max and Rebecca had been friends since college. Best friends. Rebecca had always felt something more towards Max, but never bothered to tell him. He was always busy travelling and playing hockey. She believed that he didn't need anything else to worry about other than the goals he was scoring.
He texted her on a regular basis, asking her how she was doing, telling her stories of the road, being a great best friend. He was always her shoulder to cry on and now that he was going to play for SKA St. Petersburg of the KHL, she knew that for once she had to take a chance.
Rebecca was always the conservative type. The only thing that wasn't conservative about her were her political beliefs. She didn't tell boys she liked them. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she wasn't promiscuous by any stretch. She was just a normal girl, a Plain Jane, that everyone always overlooked.
She liked boys in high school and college, but never made any moves. She hadn't had a boyfriend since middle school, and wasn't sure exactly how to act around guys. Unless it was Max. Around Max, she could be herself. She was the person she always wanted to be around him: funny, smart, savvy, sexy, the whole deal. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she always wanted to be.
She knew that this time, she wouldn't let the one she loved...skate away.
Chapter 2: The American Dream
"But what if he doesn't feel the same way? I'm just going to look like a total loser." She sat, second guessing what she had typed in the email to him. "Should I call him and tell him? Isn't writing an email a little...lame? What if things get awkward? I don't want to lose him!"
She threw her BlackBerry down on the table. She was always indecisive. About everything. Whenever she bought something, she always, without fail, got buyer's remorse. Even over the little things, like groceries.
"Alright, Rebecca. This is your one chance. You have to tell him. Otherwise, you're going to lose him and he's going to end up in love with someone else. Then you'll kick yourself for the rest of your life and your worst fears will be realized," thinking that to herself caused her to shutter. Her worst fears were to lose everyone she ever loved and to die alone. She wanted the whole deal for her life, the fancy marriage, the two and a half kids, the white house with the picket fence: the American Dream.
She picked up the Blackberry again, wiped it off with a napkin because she accidentally slammed it into a carefully portion controlled bowl of chips and dip, erased what she'd already written and typed:
"Max, I know we've been friends for a really long time. You're one of my best friends. I can tell you anything and everything and I can completely and totally be myself around you. I feel something stronger than friendship toward you though. I love you. Those three words are the hardest to say, but it's true. I love you. I wish you weren't leaving me for Russia, but I know that it's best for you...I just thought I'd tell you how I felt before I lost you to the KHL. I'm going to miss you, more than you could ever know. Love always, Becks."
She'd poured the truth into that email. There was really only one person she could've imagined having that with, and she was letting him get away faster and faster by the second. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting away.
"I don't know if I should send it. He's going to ignore it. He's not going to believe it. He's going to react the wrong way," she continued to be negative. Max always said that she was the most negative optimist he'd ever known. It's so poorly written. I should definitely do a spell and grammar check before it gets sent...if it gets sent at all. Oh, I don't know anymore."
The one thing she knew for sure, was that she had to sleep before she made a decision. If there was one thing that could've made this any easier for her, it would be to sleep it over.
Chapter 3: Dreaming What Could Be
"Well, that was the worst night of sleep I've had in ages," she thought to herself as she rolled out of bed, scratching her fingers through her shoulder-length curly brown hair. Her BlackBerry was flashing it's beady little green Low Battery light at her, screaming out for attention. "Shit, I left it on all night...again."
As she reached for her charger, conveniently tucked within the confines of her upper right desk drawer, she noticed the little orange envelope which signified she had a new text message:
"From: Max
Sent: 5:53am
What happened last night? We were talking and then POOF, you disappeared? Is everything okay?"
She twirled her thumb around the trackball, thinking what to reply. Her mind was still in a tizzy. She wasn't able to decide overnight. She remembered dreaming about what could be, how happy they could be together if only she could decide.
"I suppose I should respond. He is such a worry wart. I don't want him thinking I fell off the face of the earth or something." One thing she was sure of was that he did care about her.
She typed carefully, making sure that her decaffeinated and slightly asleep state did not cause her to mistakenly spill the beans about her true feelings for him.
"To: Max
Sent: 7:48am
Yeah, I'm fine. I was tired and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand....again. Sorry!"
"...Well, that was a lame text," she thought to herself as she reread it. She knew that there was more than enough emotion behind every "I'm fine," but the question became if he knew that.
Chapter 4: Moving Forward
"What if he doesn't answer? It's Tuesday, normally he goes to the gym and lifts all morning." Thinking about what he was going to say was killing her. She couldn't stand it. She was thinking about
She suddenly remembered the email she had saved to her Drafts the night before. She still wasn't sure she should send it or not, but she banked on him being at the gym and not getting it until after he was done. Then at least, she could relax and enjoy a good portion of her morning before she had to continue packing for college.
She was leaving, he was leaving, life was moving on. It puzzled her. She never understood the passage of time. She never understood any of it. She'd remembered hearing on an episode of 60 Minutes that "planning was bad for the passage of time." She remembered Andy Rooney saying that. It impacted her profoundly. She knew, after that, that she couldn't plan out every millisecond and microsecond of her life.
"If I'm going to do this, then I'm not going to halfass it. I'm going to tell him. I have to. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I let him get away without telling him how I feel about him."
She carefully picked up her BlackBerry, opened the email, went to the menu to where it said "Send," and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and gently pressed the button, sending the email.
Letting out a sigh, she shut off her phone and ran downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea, planning to distract herself with by packing for school and doing her laundry.
Russian Roulette
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
"He's going back home. How do I tell him how I really feel?" she asks herself frantically as she reads and rereads the text he sent her. She nearly dropped her phone when she saw it come in. "How could this have happened?"
She knew exactly how it happened. It was only a matter of time before he became a free agent and he was to leave her again. Once he was traded from the Sabres, she knew it was the beginning of the end. Two dismal seasons in Buffalo, a fantastic year in Atlanta, and she knew, deep down in her heart that it was coming.
Max and Rebecca had been friends since college. Best friends. Rebecca had always felt something more towards Max, but never bothered to tell him. He was always busy travelling and playing hockey. She believed that he didn't need anything else to worry about other than the goals he was scoring.
He texted her on a regular basis, asking her how she was doing, telling her stories of the road, being a great best friend. He was always her shoulder to cry on and now that he was going to play for SKA St. Petersburg of the KHL, she knew that for once she had to take a chance.
Rebecca was always the conservative type. The only thing that wasn't conservative about her were her political beliefs. She didn't tell boys she liked them. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she wasn't promiscuous by any stretch. She was just a normal girl, a Plain Jane, that everyone always overlooked.
She liked boys in high school and college, but never made any moves. She hadn't had a boyfriend since middle school, and wasn't sure exactly how to act around guys. Unless it was Max. Around Max, she could be herself. She was the person she always wanted to be around him: funny, smart, savvy, sexy, the whole deal. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she always wanted to be.
She knew that this time, she wouldn't let the one she loved...skate away.
Chapter 2: The American Dream
"But what if he doesn't feel the same way? I'm just going to look like a total loser." She sat, second guessing what she had typed in the email to him. "Should I call him and tell him? Isn't writing an email a little...lame? What if things get awkward? I don't want to lose him!"
She threw her BlackBerry down on the table. She was always indecisive. About everything. Whenever she bought something, she always, without fail, got buyer's remorse. Even over the little things, like groceries.
"Alright, Rebecca. This is your one chance. You have to tell him. Otherwise, you're going to lose him and he's going to end up in love with someone else. Then you'll kick yourself for the rest of your life and your worst fears will be realized," thinking that to herself caused her to shutter. Her worst fears were to lose everyone she ever loved and to die alone. She wanted the whole deal for her life, the fancy marriage, the two and a half kids, the white house with the picket fence: the American Dream.
She picked up the Blackberry again, wiped it off with a napkin because she accidentally slammed it into a carefully portion controlled bowl of chips and dip, erased what she'd already written and typed:
"Max, I know we've been friends for a really long time. You're one of my best friends. I can tell you anything and everything and I can completely and totally be myself around you. I feel something stronger than friendship toward you though. I love you. Those three words are the hardest to say, but it's true. I love you. I wish you weren't leaving me for Russia, but I know that it's best for you...I just thought I'd tell you how I felt before I lost you to the KHL. I'm going to miss you, more than you could ever know. Love always, Becks."
She'd poured the truth into that email. There was really only one person she could've imagined having that with, and she was letting him get away faster and faster by the second. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting away.
"I don't know if I should send it. He's going to ignore it. He's not going to believe it. He's going to react the wrong way," she continued to be negative. Max always said that she was the most negative optimist he'd ever known. It's so poorly written. I should definitely do a spell and grammar check before it gets sent...if it gets sent at all. Oh, I don't know anymore."
The one thing she knew for sure, was that she had to sleep before she made a decision. If there was one thing that could've made this any easier for her, it would be to sleep it over.
Russian Roulette
Chapter 1: The Beginning of the End
"He's going back home. How do I tell him how I really feel?" she asks herself frantically as she reads and rereads the text he sent her. She nearly dropped her phone when she saw it come in. "How could this have happened?"
She knew exactly how it happened. It was only a matter of time before he became a free agent and he was to leave her again. Once he was traded from the Sabres, she knew it was the beginning of the end. Two dismal seasons in Buffalo, a fantastic year in Atlanta, and she knew, deep down in her heart that it was coming.
Max and Rebecca had been friends since college. Best friends. Rebecca had always felt something more towards Max, but never bothered to tell him. He was always busy travelling and playing hockey. She believed that he didn't need anything else to worry about other than the goals he was scoring.
He texted her on a regular basis, asking her how she was doing, telling her stories of the road, being a great best friend. He was always her shoulder to cry on and now that he was going to play for SKA St. Petersburg of the KHL, she knew that for once she had to take a chance.
Rebecca was always the conservative type. The only thing that wasn't conservative about her were her political beliefs. She didn't tell boys she liked them. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she wasn't promiscuous by any stretch. She was just a normal girl, a Plain Jane, that everyone always overlooked.
She liked boys in high school and college, but never made any moves. She hadn't had a boyfriend since middle school, and wasn't sure exactly how to act around guys. Unless it was Max. Around Max, she could be herself. She was the person she always wanted to be around him: funny, smart, savvy, sexy, the whole deal. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she always wanted to be.
She knew that this time, she wouldn't let the one she loved...skate away.
She knew exactly how it happened. It was only a matter of time before he became a free agent and he was to leave her again. Once he was traded from the Sabres, she knew it was the beginning of the end. Two dismal seasons in Buffalo, a fantastic year in Atlanta, and she knew, deep down in her heart that it was coming.
Max and Rebecca had been friends since college. Best friends. Rebecca had always felt something more towards Max, but never bothered to tell him. He was always busy travelling and playing hockey. She believed that he didn't need anything else to worry about other than the goals he was scoring.
He texted her on a regular basis, asking her how she was doing, telling her stories of the road, being a great best friend. He was always her shoulder to cry on and now that he was going to play for SKA St. Petersburg of the KHL, she knew that for once she had to take a chance.
Rebecca was always the conservative type. The only thing that wasn't conservative about her were her political beliefs. She didn't tell boys she liked them. She didn't drink, she didn't smoke, she wasn't promiscuous by any stretch. She was just a normal girl, a Plain Jane, that everyone always overlooked.
She liked boys in high school and college, but never made any moves. She hadn't had a boyfriend since middle school, and wasn't sure exactly how to act around guys. Unless it was Max. Around Max, she could be herself. She was the person she always wanted to be around him: funny, smart, savvy, sexy, the whole deal. He made her feel like she was perfect, like she always wanted to be.
She knew that this time, she wouldn't let the one she loved...skate away.
She threw her BlackBerry down on the table. She was always indecisive. About everything. Whenever she bought something, she always, without fail, got buyer's remorse. Even over the little things, like groceries.
"Alright, Rebecca. This is your one chance. You have to tell him. Otherwise, you're going to lose him and he's going to end up in love with someone else. Then you'll kick yourself for the rest of your life and your worst fears will be realized," thinking that to herself caused her to shutter. Her worst fears were to lose everyone she ever loved and to die alone. She wanted the whole deal for her life, the fancy marriage, the two and a half kids, the white house with the picket fence: the American Dream.
She picked up the Blackberry again, wiped it off with a napkin because she accidentally slammed it into a carefully portion controlled bowl of chips and dip, erased what she'd already written and typed:
"Max, I know we've been friends for a really long time. You're one of my best friends. I can tell you anything and everything and I can completely and totally be myself around you. I feel something stronger than friendship toward you though. I love you. Those three words are the hardest to say, but it's true. I love you. I wish you weren't leaving me for Russia, but I know that it's best for you...I just thought I'd tell you how I felt before I lost you to the KHL. I'm going to miss you, more than you could ever know. Love always, Becks."
She'd poured the truth into that email. There was really only one person she could've imagined having that with, and she was letting him get away faster and faster by the second. She couldn't stand the thought of him getting away.
"I don't know if I should send it. He's going to ignore it. He's not going to believe it. He's going to react the wrong way," she continued to be negative. Max always said that she was the most negative optimist he'd ever known. It's so poorly written. I should definitely do a spell and grammar check before it gets sent...if it gets sent at all. Oh, I don't know anymore."
The one thing she knew for sure, was that she had to sleep before she made a decision. If there was one thing that could've made this any easier for her, it would be to sleep it over.
Chapter 3: Dreaming What Could Be
"Well, that was the worst night of sleep I've had in ages," she thought to herself as she rolled out of bed, scratching her fingers through her shoulder-length curly brown hair. Her BlackBerry was flashing it's beady little green Low Battery light at her, screaming out for attention. "Shit, I left it on all night...again."
As she reached for her charger, conveniently tucked within the confines of her upper right desk drawer, she noticed the little orange envelope which signified she had a new text message:
"From: Max
Sent: 5:53am
What happened last night? We were talking and then POOF, you disappeared? Is everything okay?"
She twirled her thumb around the trackball, thinking what to reply. Her mind was still in a tizzy. She wasn't able to decide overnight. She remembered dreaming about what could be, how happy they could be together if only she could decide.
"I suppose I should respond. He is such a worry wart. I don't want him thinking I fell off the face of the earth or something." One thing she was sure of was that he did care about her.
She typed carefully, making sure that her decaffeinated and slightly asleep state did not cause her to mistakenly spill the beans about her true feelings for him.
"To: Max
Sent: 7:48am
Yeah, I'm fine. I was tired and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand....again. Sorry!"
"...Well, that was a lame text," she thought to herself as she reread it. She knew that there was more than enough emotion behind every "I'm fine," but the question became if he knew that.
As she reached for her charger, conveniently tucked within the confines of her upper right desk drawer, she noticed the little orange envelope which signified she had a new text message:
"From: Max
Sent: 5:53am
What happened last night? We were talking and then POOF, you disappeared? Is everything okay?"
She twirled her thumb around the trackball, thinking what to reply. Her mind was still in a tizzy. She wasn't able to decide overnight. She remembered dreaming about what could be, how happy they could be together if only she could decide.
"I suppose I should respond. He is such a worry wart. I don't want him thinking I fell off the face of the earth or something." One thing she was sure of was that he did care about her.
She typed carefully, making sure that her decaffeinated and slightly asleep state did not cause her to mistakenly spill the beans about her true feelings for him.
"To: Max
Sent: 7:48am
Yeah, I'm fine. I was tired and I fell asleep with my phone in my hand....again. Sorry!"
"...Well, that was a lame text," she thought to herself as she reread it. She knew that there was more than enough emotion behind every "I'm fine," but the question became if he knew that.
She suddenly remembered the email she had saved to her Drafts the night before. She still wasn't sure she should send it or not, but she banked on him being at the gym and not getting it until after he was done. Then at least, she could relax and enjoy a good portion of her morning before she had to continue packing for college.
She was leaving, he was leaving, life was moving on. It puzzled her. She never understood the passage of time. She never understood any of it. She'd remembered hearing on an episode of 60 Minutes that "planning was bad for the passage of time." She remembered Andy Rooney saying that. It impacted her profoundly. She knew, after that, that she couldn't plan out every millisecond and microsecond of her life.
"If I'm going to do this, then I'm not going to halfass it. I'm going to tell him. I have to. I'd regret it for the rest of my life if I let him get away without telling him how I feel about him."
She carefully picked up her BlackBerry, opened the email, went to the menu to where it said "Send," and closed her eyes. She took a deep breath and gently pressed the button, sending the email.
Letting out a sigh, she shut off her phone and ran downstairs to fix herself a cup of tea, planning to distract herself with by packing for school and doing her laundry.
Chapter 5: Just Can't Stand to Say Goodbye
"This tea is possibly the best I've ever made," she thinks as she's walking up the stairs with her mug, filled with orange African honey bush tea, her favorite. For her, drinking a hot mug of tea was her escape. Whenever she was feeling down or stressed or at the end of her rope, she would heat up a cup of tea and she would automatically feel better.
"I have to keep packing. I leave in two days and I'm nowhere near ready to go." She starts thinking aloud. Sighing deeply, she slinks down into the chair in front of her desk and glances at her computer, and clicks over to her browser, always filled with the same tabs: Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Pandora. She shifts from the Tumblr tab, making sure to glance at her Messages (0), even though it was TMI Tuesday and she rarely received any questions or comments, and over to her Pandora.
Inhaling slowly, she tries to decide what she wanted to listen to: John Mayer or Ben Folds Radio. Whenever she is sad, she tries to pick between those two. They're much more mellow than her other stations: Akon, Ke$ha, and Lady Gaga among them. She decided that John Mayer would be best.
She stands up, turns slowly toward her closet, and begins to think about him. She pulls one of Max's old shirts off of the floor, shakes it out, and begins to cry. She knows that he's leaving, but she just can't bare to say goodbye.
Of course, with Pandora's insane ability to read her thoughts, John Mayer's "Split Screen Sadness" is playing, only adding to her sadness. It doesn't get much worse than that.
"Well, at least it's not 'All By Myself'...that would be worse," and she begins to sing along.
"Maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on the porch ‘til you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
We share the sadness
Split screen sadness"
She didn't want to forget him, ever, so in an effort to salvage every memory she's got of him, she stuffs the green St. Patrick's Day Sabres shirt, formerly one of his favorites, into a concealed area of her suitcase. No one would ever suspect she'd hid anything there, so it would be safe from her mother's for sure evaluation of her packing.
As she tries to continue packing, she can't help but remember the story of how she got a hold of that shirt. At last year's County Fair, a storm broke out and it poured and poured and poured. Little did she know, the yellow camisole she was wearing underneath her blue polkadot blouse could show her black bra right through when it got wet. Max was working the fair, camping at the fairgrounds with his grandfather, and he offered her one of his extra shirts, the green one. The two of them being best friends, she stripped down to her bra in front of him and didn't think anything of it. She was just so cold and so grateful for that, and grateful for him, that she kept forgetting to return his shirt to him.
Suddenly, she heard a loud noise that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a dying goose, and was loud enough to shake her out of her blissful flashback. It was her phone buzzing along on top of her dresser. She knew immediately: It was Max.
"I have to keep packing. I leave in two days and I'm nowhere near ready to go." She starts thinking aloud. Sighing deeply, she slinks down into the chair in front of her desk and glances at her computer, and clicks over to her browser, always filled with the same tabs: Facebook, Tumblr, Twitter, and Pandora. She shifts from the Tumblr tab, making sure to glance at her Messages (0), even though it was TMI Tuesday and she rarely received any questions or comments, and over to her Pandora.
Inhaling slowly, she tries to decide what she wanted to listen to: John Mayer or Ben Folds Radio. Whenever she is sad, she tries to pick between those two. They're much more mellow than her other stations: Akon, Ke$ha, and Lady Gaga among them. She decided that John Mayer would be best.
She stands up, turns slowly toward her closet, and begins to think about him. She pulls one of Max's old shirts off of the floor, shakes it out, and begins to cry. She knows that he's leaving, but she just can't bare to say goodbye.
Of course, with Pandora's insane ability to read her thoughts, John Mayer's "Split Screen Sadness" is playing, only adding to her sadness. It doesn't get much worse than that.
"Well, at least it's not 'All By Myself'...that would be worse," and she begins to sing along.
"Maybe I’ll sleep inside my coat and
Wait on the porch ‘til you come back home
Oh, right
I can’t find a flight
We share the sadness
Split screen sadness"
She didn't want to forget him, ever, so in an effort to salvage every memory she's got of him, she stuffs the green St. Patrick's Day Sabres shirt, formerly one of his favorites, into a concealed area of her suitcase. No one would ever suspect she'd hid anything there, so it would be safe from her mother's for sure evaluation of her packing.
As she tries to continue packing, she can't help but remember the story of how she got a hold of that shirt. At last year's County Fair, a storm broke out and it poured and poured and poured. Little did she know, the yellow camisole she was wearing underneath her blue polkadot blouse could show her black bra right through when it got wet. Max was working the fair, camping at the fairgrounds with his grandfather, and he offered her one of his extra shirts, the green one. The two of them being best friends, she stripped down to her bra in front of him and didn't think anything of it. She was just so cold and so grateful for that, and grateful for him, that she kept forgetting to return his shirt to him.
Suddenly, she heard a loud noise that sounded vaguely reminiscent of a dying goose, and was loud enough to shake her out of her blissful flashback. It was her phone buzzing along on top of her dresser. She knew immediately: It was Max.
