In psychology, we once learned about this experiment that always stuck with me. There were two volunteers, and one was called the teacher, and the other was the learner. The learner had to learn word pairs and associations from a list. Placed in separate rooms, the teacher would ask the learner a question and if they got it wrong they had to shock them. Every wrong answer increased the voltage. The teacher could always hear the screams from their room, and they were always encouraged to keep going.
I sort of felt like that right now. Except instead of me giving the wrong answers, it's Will. And instead of him getting shocked over and over, it's me.
The voltage increased each time. The screams in the experiment were actually fake.
Mine were definitely real.
_____________________________________
I had finished a very long list of phone calls, which was always the worst part of my day. (Mr. Santana knew a lot of people from a lot of places. Let's just say I didn't take time zones into account and there were many anti-morning people on that list.) After that, I took a lunch break and was getting ready to bite into my sandwich when my phone rang.
Hello, frustration. Hello, annoyance. Hello, anger.
But I'm getting ahead of myself here. First it's just...
"Hey Will."
I got a muffled answer in response.
"What's the matter?" I asked.
"We have a meeting today at the label," Will breathed. "Sisky is running late, Carden is stuck in traffic, Chislett is...who the hell knows? He's probably in Australia because that's my luck. There's a problem with four of the venues we're supposed to play at and it's a total mess," he said.
Not wanting to frustrate him father by maybe suggesting that he didn't go at all, I pushed selfishness away.
"Well Mike and Adam should be there soon. Are you with Andy at least?" I asked.
"Yeah but it's fucking twelve thirty already, and it was supposed to start at twelve."
"Well that's not too bad. As soon as they get there, you'll talk everything out," I offered, not really sure what to say.
"Yeah, and the later they get here, the later I have to stay," he grumbled.
"Well don't forget we have dinner with my mom tonight," I reminded, "At six."
"Shit, that's tonight?" he asked.
Thanks a lot, sweetie. I love when you don't remember things that I've told you repeatedly throughout the week.
"Yes. You're gonna be there, right?" I asked, twirling my water bottle cap around on the table.
"I don't know, Elisa. This is going to take a while, and we usually do something afterwards-"
"Yeah, but you promised Will," I reminded him angrily, "And you see your friends every day. You've never met my mom."
"Why do I have to meet her anyway?" he complained.
I made a disgusted face at the phone and remembered that he couldn't see it.
"Maybe I thought that as my boyfriend, you'd want to meet the people important to me," I said coolly.
"Don't twist it like that. I'm just saying, we haven't even been going out that long," he (tried) to justify.
First shock- ten volts.
"You're right," I deadpanned, "We haven't been going out that long. Maybe I'll just give you more time to see if I'm worth it, and then you can meet my mom."
"You always do this, Elisa, goddammit," he growled.
"Do what?" I asked, narrowing my eyes angrily.
"Make huge ordeals over things!" he exclaimed.
"I do not!" I protested, trying to keep my voice semi-normal so nobody around me would hear.
"Yes you do! You're doing in now, and you've done it in the past!" he retorted.
"Stop trying to lay the blame on me," I said, rolling my eyes. My fingernails were now effectively digging themselves into my hands.
"You want examples? Here...You blow your parents divorce way out of proportion- you should be lucky they both still love you so much and tried to make it work for your benefit at least when you were growing up. You got absolutely pissed at me when I was talking to another girl before we even went out! You freak out about rolls on Thanksgiving and then flirt with another guy all day, and make a big deal when I point it out to you-"
"Stop it!" I cut in, "If you feel that way, then please do me a favor, and don't come tonight. I certainly wouldn't want my mom meeting the asshole that you are right now."
I hung up the phone.
Second shock- twenty volts.
_________________________________
I look down at my phone and see that the conversation was a mere 4 minutes and twenty-two seconds. I wonder if that's how long that it took to effectively ruin my relationship. I wonder if that's close to a world-record. I wonder if Will knows what exactly just happened.
I wonder too much, so I start working again. I file things, I write small band biographies on our label's website, and I do absolutely everything but look at my phone.
Time moves slowly of course. Every time I think an hour has passed, it's only been ten minutes. I start taking small trips to get water. To go to the bathroom. To check my empty inbox. I hope that moving will keep my mind busy and somehow make time go faster.
It doesn't.
I don't dwell on things. I didn't want to give Will the satisfaction of knowing his words had actually gotten to me. So, I was emotional. So, I did sometimes have somewhat irrational responses to things. He doesn't have to point it out. And just for the record, that divorce comment still stung. Because Will was the one who let me cry on his shoulder. If he didn't want me to, if he thought I was being childish, he should have come out and said so.
The clock showed 5 at last, and I darted out of the office quicker than I ever have. My car coasted home as I sped and changed lanes, not really caring that I was being reckless and the total opposite of my usual cautionary driving.
I walked up the stairs to the apartment, taking extra care to stomp and let out some pent up emotion, anger, what have you. And then I heard my phone ringing, flashing the number of the stupid, skinny, irritating, brown-eyed boy that I did not want to speak to.
I contemplated in the next few seconds. If I didn't answer, it would be just like he said. He obviously thought I was immature, and that's why I took things too far. I didn't want him to be right, but I didn't want to talk to him either. I debated for a few moments before the phone stopped ringing.
I guess that decides it then.
I walked the last few paces to the door and rooted around for my keys when my phone started ringing again.
I sighed and rolled my eyes, but picked it up.
"Hello?"
"Wow- I didn't expect you to answer," Will breathed.
"I can hang up if you want," I said tonelessly.
"No, no!" he protested, "I'm so sorry Elisa, I was a jerk. And I can cliche for hours with 'you have every right to be mad' but it's true, and I just wanted to say that right away," he said, sounding sincerely apologetic.
I faltered.
"And?"
"And...I'm sorry for all the things I said to you. I didn't mean to make you feel bad about yourself. You don't blow things out of proportion. You're just passionate and emotional and I like all those things about you," he reassured.
"And?" I asked, feeling considerably better but ready to finish milking this.
"And I'm an idiot, and I hate fighting with you, and I would really like to have dinner with you and your mom tonight," he finished.
"Well...I guess you can come, if you promise to behave."
"I promise," he agreed with a small chuckle, "Are we okay?"
I paused, taking a deep breath.
"Yeah, I think so."
____________________________________
At 6:04, I wasn't too worried.
At 6:10, I told my mom he was always a little late.
At 6:27, I had called him twice.
At 6:50, my mom insisted we ate before the food got bad.
At 7:30, I was downright livid.
Third shock- fifty volts.
He knew that we weren't on the best of terms, and he still didn't show up? Unless someone is dead, there will be hell to pay for this, William Beckett. I'm not just angry that he didn't show up, I'm hurt. Did he not care enough to find a way here after all the trouble we went through today?
"He probably got tied up," my mom offered.
"You told him six, right?"
"Well, he's only...an hour and a half late."
She was criticizing away in her mind, I could see it in her eyes. It was those polite forced comments that hid the underlying 'You picked a crappy one' that pushed me over the edge. Not that I wasn't close- my teeth hurt from me clenching my jaw so much.
"I should go mom," I said, halting my fork that was really only serving the use of pushing around my food.
"You don't have to," she protested.
"Yeah, well, I'm tired, and I really don't feel like dessert," I said, getting up from my chair.
I didn't eat much of dinner either.
"Well, I'm sorry this didn't work out. Maybe another time?" she asked, putting down her napkin to come kiss my cheek.
"Yeah," I muttered, already on my way to the door.
"Sorry again, Elisa!"
It's not your fault, Mom. And that doesn't make me feel much better.
When I got to the car, the phone rang.
Three guesses who it was. Three guesses to where I threw my damn phone instead of answering it.
I drove home taking the shortest route and hoping like hell I wouldn't see Will in the hallway, because I might seriously injure him. My stomach was clenching and my mind was racing, and I had that tug on your heart type feel when someone you really care about has disappointed you.
I looked once at my phone before walking up the stairs and couldn't fight the temptation to hear his lame excuse.
"Elisa...I know I've already said it today, but I'm so sorry. You won't believe what happened at the meeting, but I couldn't get away-"
I pressed end.
Last shock: one hundred fucking volts.
