Our Final Love Song by N.S. Perkins EPUB & PDF – eBook Details Online
- Status: Available For Free Download
- Authors: N.S. Perkins
- Language: English
- Genre: Romantic Comedy
- Format: PDF / EPUB
- Size: 2 MB
- Price: Free
Emma
Four years later
This hurts.
This hurts very, very much.
The ostentatious red velvet cake is a fifty-pound weight in my hands. I
don’t know why I’m still holding it. I could put it down—two hours in, and
my wrists are howling in pain, the left more than the right, as usual—but
letting go of it feels like letting go of the idea that he might remember tonight
is our anniversary.
I’m pathetic. Waiting for a man who clearly could not care less about me,
and still hoping the tables will turn. The amount of times this exact situation
has happened makes it even more pathetic. Or is the word stupid at this
point? Isn’t that what they say about people who expect others to change?
Although, I have to say, this is the first time he’s missed something so
important. Sure, Jamie has forgotten about our date nights plenty of times,
apologizing as he arrived just in time for dessert, having missed the dinner
reservation by a mile or simply not showing up at my place for a movie we’d
planned on watching together, but our anniversary is a first. Last year, he
cooked for me in my apartment kitchen, making all of my favorite recipes at
once. It was comical—pork tenderloin cooked in red wine and blueberry
sauce, rows of sushi made with extravagant fish and bright colors, roasted
vegetables sprinkled with butter and spices, huge casseroles of butter chicken
paired with freshly cooked naan, all enough to feed an army. It was so extra. I
loved it.
For the past year, though, the feeling of loneliness has grown as he’s
forgotten about me time and time again. I can’t recall the number of times
I’ve lain in bed with my phone in my hands, hoping for a goodnight text or a
“thinking of you” phone call, only to fall asleep alone.
Again, pathetic.
A tear burns a track down my face before falling onto the cake, the salt
leaving a bitter taste on my lips. Another one escapes, followed by two more.
I squeeze my eyes shut for a moment, as tight as I can, then exhale slowly.
Calm down.
The tears have smudged a part of the icing design. One of the stars now
looks like a smudge of snot. Not that the cake was that nice looking in the
first place.
It’s always been a running gag between us, how bad I am at art. I cannot
draw a flower to save my life, but Jamie has always had a soft spot for my
doodles. He used to keep every single drawing I made, no matter how ugly. I
can see the effort you made, and that makes it so much more valuable, he said
to me one night after keeping the portrait I’d made of him while eating
burgers at a local joint. The image looked like an eight-year-old’s drawing,
but he made it to be something special.
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