Life I Left Behind (A Daryl Dixon Story)

Charlie

20 Years Old

I stared at the cell phone on my desk, as if I could somehow convince myself that it would ring if I just stared hard and long enough. A dull hum came from the television in the corner, turned down so low I couldn’t make out what was even on. Outside my dorm room window I could hear traffic racing past. My phone was still silent, though. I sighed and pushed myself out of the desk chair, stretching my arms over my head.

I surveyed the room with mild interest noting that it looking like a clothing tornado had hit. I halfheartedly kicked a GSU sweatshirt into one of the bigger piles of clothing. That was about as in depth into cleaning I would get. My roommate was the same. I still hadn’t decided if that was a good or bad thing. I collapsed onto my bed.

I was kidding myself if I was expecting that phone call. I couldn’t even explain why I cared or why I still waited around, feeling as anxious as a little kid on Christmas Eve. He hadn’t called last year, so why would this year be any different? Clearly he didn’t care. I didn’t know why I still did, though. It had been hit hard by the surprise of how much I missed him. Not having Daryl in my life wasn’t as easy as I had thought it would be. I had been under the impression that I would gradually just forget he existed. Like I could just slowly phase him out of my life until it was like he was never there.

That had proved impossible. While being at school had kept me distracted, it had done nothing to ease the homesickness I felt for the lanky redneck that had once been my closest friend. ‘You could always pick up the phone and call him…’ the familiar thought ran through my mind. I quickly dismissed it, just like always. Why would I call someone who clearly didn’t want to talk to me? It had been almost two long years without Daryl. Two years too long.

The door to the room was suddenly thrown open and Tara stumbled in, tugging what looked like at least half a dozen balloons behind her. “Hey! Happy birthday, roomie!” She shouted excitedly. Her smile quickly faded, though, the edges of her lips turning down. “What’s with the grumpy face? Birthdays are supposed to be fun and I’ll be damned if I let you sit around and mope all night!”

I gave her a small smile, rolling onto my stomach. “Balloons, huh?” I said, deliberately changing the subject.  Tara wasn’t so fooled. Her eyes slid from me to the phone on my desk.

“We are not doing this again. Look, Charlie, if he wanted to talk he would call you. I don’t even know why you care at this point. I may not know him personally, but I still know enough to see this is a lost cause. Let him go. It’s his loss.” She said, sitting down on the foot of my bed. I watched as the balloons escaped from her grasp and began to bounce around on the ceiling. “We are going out. So put on something cute, get all dolled up, and let’s go. I’m not letting you spend another birthday feeling shitty. I’m also confiscating this.” She grabbed my cell phone and slid it into her purse.

I opened my mouth the protest but she silenced me with a look that clearly said she was not messing around. I rolled my eyes, feeling defeated. “Alright fine. But I need a drink first.”

Tara’s grin returned. “That’s the spirit! And lucky for you, I came prepared.”

I couldn’t help but laugh as she pulled a clear bottle from her purse. “Vodka. You know me too well.” I got up and dug through the desk drawer until I pulled out two hot pink shot glasses. Tara filled the glass up to the rim and I perked an eyebrow at her. “That’s a big shot.”

She shrugged. “This is a big day. It’s your birthday. Drink up!”

We clinked the little glasses together and I threw the liquid down the back of my throat. It burned as it ran down my throat and I felt the warmth reach my chest, radiating from underneath my skin.