[5/28: post-prom making amends]
May. 31st, 2016 04:13 pmWhile I'd felt bad backing out on Caron's prom invitation at the last minute, I don't really regret the decision. Jack hadn't ever outright said I shouldn't go, but he's pretty easy to read once you know all the tells and I could see that he was uncomfortable with the whole thing. Maybe even a little hurt. Plus, given everything that had already happened that week with the words scrawled across his back, it seemed sort of thoughtless and mean to just abandon him, even if for only one night.
I hadn't ended up even spending much of the evening with him, but I felt better knowing he could call on me any time if he did need me and I promised myself I'd find a way to make it up to Carson later.
Until, that is, I get the birthday notification.
I'm a day late to noticing it, a single little pop-up when I log into Darrow's bizarre excuse for Facebook and at first it feels like a joke. Or a mistake. I mean, Carson would've told me his birthday was yesterday, wouldn't he?
Except I definitely already know the answer to that.
The guilt is immediate, almost crushing, as I immediately set about baking the best lemon blueberry pie I can possibly manage, as well as a lemon crumble and a good old fashioned batch of chocolate chip cookies just in case.
A few hours later, I'm knocking at Carson's door, pie carrier, Tupperware container, and a carefully wrapped gift box in hand. I have to carefully balance everything to press the doorbell and I suck in a breath and just pray he'll even be home.
I hadn't ended up even spending much of the evening with him, but I felt better knowing he could call on me any time if he did need me and I promised myself I'd find a way to make it up to Carson later.
Until, that is, I get the birthday notification.
I'm a day late to noticing it, a single little pop-up when I log into Darrow's bizarre excuse for Facebook and at first it feels like a joke. Or a mistake. I mean, Carson would've told me his birthday was yesterday, wouldn't he?
Except I definitely already know the answer to that.
The guilt is immediate, almost crushing, as I immediately set about baking the best lemon blueberry pie I can possibly manage, as well as a lemon crumble and a good old fashioned batch of chocolate chip cookies just in case.
A few hours later, I'm knocking at Carson's door, pie carrier, Tupperware container, and a carefully wrapped gift box in hand. I have to carefully balance everything to press the doorbell and I suck in a breath and just pray he'll even be home.
