It was Saturday night and I found myself laying on the couch in pj’s and bunny slippers watching Romeo and Juliet.

Why?

Because Romeo seemed like a good opposite to my newly ex-boyfriend, James Anderson. Romeo was brave, caring, and- I guess- loyal. James was not. Anyway, I felt like crying and Romeo and Juliet made me cry- snot, tears and all. Mom said it wasn’t healthy to keep feelings inside. Crying helped and soon enough I sat watching them take poison. I felt the familiar warmth of wet tears streaming down my cheeks.

It did feel good.

I sighed when the movie when the movie ended and went to the kitchen for some ice cream. Mom raised her brow. She’s starting to think I’m depressed. It’d only been a day and she was diagnosing me.

I found Titanic and popped it in. Then I grabbed a spoon and ate from the tub of mint chocolate chip ice cream. The cold, creamy, goodness washed my worries away.

So, why Titanic? Jack dies.

Halfway through the movie I pretend Jack was cheating on Rose because it started to look like Jack was too good to die. It made me feel a bit better. Then, the doorbell rang.

“Erika! Get the door!” My mom called.

Nine o’ clock! Seriously? Who comes to my house at nine o’ clock? I swung open the door and it only took me a minute to recognize the face of the body standing on my doorstep.

“James? It’s late. What do you want?”

“I’m sorry, Erika,” he whispered, flinching at my clipped tone.

“For what?” There were a lot of things he could be sorry about. He could be sorry for running away from me when I needed him most, or not answering me when I said that I loved him. He could be sorry for ignoring me the next day and for saying goodbye.

But did I want him to be sorry?