Chapter 4

Sophie’s phone buzzed on the counter top, the screen flashing the name “Psycho Bitch.” She had saved the number after the bizarre phone call she’d received from Adam’s girlfriend so she would know not to answer it. She pressed “Ignore” and went back to the pie filing she was making. The phone buzzed again; there was a voicemail. She ignored that as well and poured the cherry filling into her homemade crust. Crusts were always her weakest point; she could just never seem to get them right. She had spent the last ten years buying packaged crusts, having given up, but she was determined to get it right this time. She folded the top crust over gently, pinching the edges together. With a last flourish of egg wash and a silent prayer, she popped it into the oven. It WOULD turn out this time.

She dusted the flour off her hands and grabbed her phone. It was ringing again. “What the hell does she want?” Sophie rolled her eyes and pressed “Ignore” again. This was ridiculous. It was eleven o’clock at night. Sure, she was baking a pie, but still. “What do you bet she’s drunk?” she laughed to herself.

Another buzz, another voicemail.

Sophie poured herself a glass of wine and sat on the couch. The phone rang yet again.

“God damn!” One evening of peace, that’s all she wanted. She had finally started to forget about Adam and move on with her life, and then this tramp came along and ruined everything.

Alright. So…that was a lie she told herself between sips of wine. She had been nowhere even close to forgetting about Adam. In fact, she missed him more and more as time went by.

But that was beside the point, damn it!

Three voicemails now.

Sophie was curious. She dialed her mailbox.



Sophie’s hands were shaking in anticipation of the upcoming catfight. It was a bad night to pick a fight with her, and Adam’s slut of a girlfriend had another thing coming to her…

“S-sophie? Heyyy, it’s, uh, it’s Adam…”

What? No…

“I, eh, I jussss…..looch… The thing izz…I miss you. I –hiccup- I r-really fucked up, you know? Not calling you that night, and…god you’re pretty….”

The color drained from Sophie’s face. This wasn’t happening…

“Second new message, sent today at eleven-oh-seven pm….”

She downed half her glass of wine.

“Sophie? Y-yeah..it’s…it’s er…what? Um…it’s Adam. Again. I know. I’m an…an asshole…. Calling you so mushhh all of a sudden….wha’s it been? Like a year or something…Anyway….”

He was so drunk, it was amazing she could understand a word he was saying.

“Third new message, sent today at eleven-oh-nine pm…”

She went to take a drink of her wine only to find it all gone.

“Sssssssophie, Ssophie, Sophie, Sophie, Shopie….hehe…..mmkay, so…I’m…uh, I’m at home. In New York, right? Well….fuck, I’m drunk. I’m soooo drunk, y-you wouldn’t believe it. But…yeah…..well, um…I been thinking, you know? And the thing is…I love you. Yes. Yes. I-I l-love you, Ssophie. An…An I think we should, you know, get married or ssssomething… love should be like in Disney movies, you know? Like, two people….an…an yeah. Youshud c-call me sometime? K? K….”

“No more new messages. First saved message…”

Sophie hung up the phone with shaking hands.

Fuck.

Fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuck, fuckity, fuck!!

She tugged on her hair and rocked back and forth, her eyes welling with tears. She just got drunk dialed by Adam fucking Richman! And he still loved her? No…no, she had to move on, this was bullshit, how could he do this to her?

She took a deep breath and hissed it out through her teeth, eyes clenched tightly closed, tears escaping down her cheeks. This. Was. Not. Happening.

She took another deep breath and tried to relax.

He probably won’t even remember this in the morning, right? Best…best to just pretend nothing happened. Yes.

Yes.

She got up and went to the kitchen and poured another glass of wine, chugged half of it, and topped it off again.

She sniffed loudly and wiped what was left of the tears from her face. Stiff upper lip and all that.

She sniffed again and looked at her watch. 11:15. The pie still had at least twenty minutes.

She pulled the pie out of the oven, set it on the counter, turned off the oven, and went to bed, her half glass of wine left unfinished beside it.