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Adam ran a hand through his disheveled long blond hair, a sigh running through him. It was no use, and he gave up, ending the call.
This was just awful. He had been repeatedly trying to call Amy after giving her a day to cool off from the big blowup at his house. That night, he'd tried in vain to call her cell phone once less than an hour after she'd stormed out. She hadn't answered. Now, he was experiencing the same, only he had tried both her mobile and home phones multiple times, leaving several voicemails and messages on her answering machine. Not once did she pick up.
The Canadian felt desperate. He hadn't slept a wink the prior night, and it showed, not only in his rumpled hair but in his red eyes as well. He was also sporting five o'clock shadow but hadn't bothered to shave. He could barely eat, his appetite killed. He only did so when he'd forced himself, though each meal he'd consumed had been meager, to say the least.
Adam winced and pinched the area between his eyes and the bridge of his nose. A dull headache was throbbing, and he got a pair of Tylenol caplets, quickly washing them down with water.
As he sat at his kitchen table, staring at the cell phone in his hand, a thought struck him. Then, flipping open the device, he dialed a number that was not Amy's but belonged to a completely different woman.
"Hello?"
"Trish," he said wearily, not even bothering to say hello, "I need your help." He hoped that, even if Amy had spoken to the blonde, she wasn't going to fly into a rage and refuse to even speak to him.
"Adam... I heard about what happened," Trish said, her voice soft and sad.
No, no, Adam thought. He didn't know what to say, bracing himself for what she might tell him next.
"I'm sorry." There was a brief hesitation in the Canadian diva's voice, but she went on. "If you want, I can talk to her for you."
"Would you? That would really be helpful. Thank you."
"Sure, Adam."
The blond man felt as though tears were coming.
"Trish, I know what Amy told you, but I didn't cheat on her... I... I love her. I would never do that," he said, his voice slightly breaking.
"I know," the woman said. "I told her there has to be an explanation."
Adam was taken aback.
"You did?"
"Yes... Amy told me weeks ago she thought something was up with you, and she suspected you were cheating. I told her I didn't believe it. I just can't imagine you doing that to her."
"I wouldn't... Thank you, Trish," he said. That was really something. The redhead had been suspicious for awhile, and their friend knew better than that. He was grateful that the blonde was so resourceful. If only Amy had believed her.
"Adam," Trish began, "what's going on?"
"I don't know," the Canadian replied. "I think someone set me up." He had been thinking about it for the past day since his girlfriend had left him. There was only one person who could possibly be behind all of this.
"Matt?"
"Who else?" Adam said bitterly.
*
At her condo in Atlanta, Amy laid on her stomach on her unmade bed. She couldn't rid her mind of all the horrible thoughts of what had happened.
She had finally managed to stop crying, and her head was pounding with a migraine. She had hoped sleep would come and give her relief, but due to her mind working way past overtime, that had proved an impossibility.
She couldn't recall a time when she'd felt more miserable. Even her past breakups hadn't hurt quite as much. But maybe that was because, deep down, she had believed Adam to be her true love.
The ringing of the phone at her nightstand suddenly startled her, and she glanced at it sharply, not quite sure of how to react. She doubted it was Adam, as he'd seemed to have finally given up - which, come to think of it, pretty much stung. She decided to let the machine pick up.
"Hey, Amy... It's Matt."
The redhead was surprised to hear the voice, and the words.
"I just wanted to say hi and see how you were doing. We haven't talked lately, and-"
Amy picked up the phone, pressing it to her ear.
"Hi, Matt."
"Amy... Hi," her ex said, the tone of his voice expressing his surprise that she'd actually picked up.
"How are you?"
She felt herself getting choked up again as she replied.
"Not so good... Not good at all."
"What's wrong?" he asked.
Tears beginning to well up in her eyes for the umpteenth time, Amy began to explain.