Too-da-loo,

Mia Gray

PS. I honestly didn’t mean to keep the company-supplied stapler and I almost left it yesterday morning, until Bill asked me to get him another cup of coffee so...Fuck Bill, and fuck your stapler. It’s mine. (See attached photo :-) )

I reread the email one last time and hit send before setting my phone down. My first task of the day is now done. Now, to task number two, break up with my current bum of a boyfriend, Michael.

As I sit in a small pastry café, waiting for him to arrive, my mind can’t help but replay all the many mistakes I’ve made these past ten years, including Michael. He was the first guy I fell for after high school and he was supposed to be my anti-Dean: He wasn’t as social, he wasn’t “Mr. Popular” on campus. (Okay...no one can really be “popular” in college, but still...)  He was a third year law student with big dreams and a focus that pushed me harder.

When we first started dating, I really liked him and I thought that I could see myself marrying him one day. But eventually, things changed, and Michael definitely changed. After he failed the Bar exam (the first time he took it), he became the guy with nothing more than a pipe dream and wasted potential.

He didn’t take me on dates anymore; he didn’t bother having conversations anymore, and at some point, he stopped caring about getting out of bed anymore. After a while, not only was I carrying all the responsibility, but I was carrying our entire relationship.

I now feel like I’ve wasted an entire chunk of my life and I swear to God, if there was any way I could go back and erase a few sections, the past ten years would hit the chopping block, stat.

The bell above the cafe door rings and I shake those thoughts away and look up to see Michael. Today, he’s dressed in a casual pair of sweats and an old graphic T-shirt, both now the main staples of his wardrobe, a far cry from the handsome guy who wore suits and ties when I first met him years ago.

He slides into the seat across from me and sighs, not offering a single word about getting here almost two hours later than we’d originally agreed upon.

The waitress sits down our regular orders and tells us this one is on the house for some strange reason. As soon as she walks away, I take a deep breath and look directly into Michael’s eyes.

“We need a break,” I say, cutting straight to the chase.

“Yeah, we definitely do.” He leans back against the chair.

Wait. What?! “Are you serious?  Please, I’m curious as to why you think we need a break?” I say, arching my brow. “What exactly are you unhappy about regarding us?”

“I don’t have a list of specifics, but I can tell you that the sex just hasn’t been good lately.”

“What?”

“It’s just...” His voice trails off, as if he’s searching for the right words. “You’re not doing it for me anymore. You’re getting lazier in bed and the blowjobs are nonexistent.”

He has GOT to be joking.

“Michael, we haven’t had sex in over a month.”

“I know, that’s the problem.” He signals for the check.

“No, you stopped working and became a bum. That’s the problem.”

“See. That’s what I’m talking about, Mia. You’re too concerned with trivial things. You need to chill out.”

“No, what I need is a boyfriend who can help pay the rent.” By this point, I’m getting really agitated.

“Maybe if you got up and blew me once and a while, I could find the inspiration I need.”

“Do you hear how ridiculous you sound? I don’t need to have sex with you in order for you to find a job.”

“And I don’t need all of this judgment,” he says. “I’m agreeing with you on needing a break, so I don’t see the issue. You don’t think we’re compatible anymore, I don’t think we’re compatible anymore, so what’s the problem? You need someone who specializes in boring, and I need somebody who understands my needs.”

I let out a deep breath and shake my head. “You know what? I’m not even going to address that.  I just came to tell you I’m moving to Portland—soon, actually. I’ll be living with my brother for a while.”

“Oh, well good for you. Portland sounds like just the place for you. There’s probably lots of boring guys there who won’t want to have sex. You’ll fit in,” he says. “Hold that thought, though. Am I paying for this coffee or are you? If it’s me, I need a rain check.”

“Goodbye, Michael.” I push away from the table and leave, annoyed as all hell, but somewhat relieved that our chapter is coming to an end.

***

A few weeks later, I find myself meandering through Terminal C of Liberty International Airport, waiting to board a flight that’s been delayed twice already.  I try not to get too impatient and remember my dream of, literally, jetting off to my new life, so a few hours more shouldn’t make that much of a difference.

After finally locating gate C-19, I find an empty row of seats near the large window and settle in, praying that my next flight leaves on time. Just as I plug in my Kindle to ensure my battery’s fully charged for the long fight, I feel my phone vibrating against my thigh. I hold it up to my face and see the words “Big Brother” scrolling across the screen.

“Hello?” I answer. “Hello? Eric? Are you there? Can you hear me?”

“Yeah, I’m here. His voice is deep and concerned. “Where the hell are you?”

“In Newark.”

“What? I thought you said your flight was arriving here hours ago. I’ve been waiting for the call to pick you up.”

“Sorry,” I say. “My flight was delayed. I won’t get to Portland until really late.”

“Define ‘really late’, Aim.”

“Aim? You haven’t called me that since you used to live with us.”

“Define ‘really late’, Mia. Is that what you prefer?”

I smile at the frustration in his voice. He’s still as impatient as always. “After midnight.”

“Okay, well next time your flight changes, you need to text me immediately and let me know. I thought something had happened to you.”

And still super overprotective...

“I will. I promise.”

“Speaking of arriving, what the hell is all this shit that was delivered yesterday?” he asks. “You told me that you didn’t have that much stuff.”

“I don’t have that much stuff.”

“Mia, I had to spend all day yesterday putting half of that shit in storage.”

“What? Which half? You said you had a big condo!”

“Yeah, a condo, not a goddamn mansion.” He’s rolling his eyes, I can tell. “You don’t need fifty canvases.”

“I actually do...I have to show off my portfolio if I’m going to get a job, remember?”

“Well, lucky for you, the storage place is just around the corner. You can get the key and carry all of that shit back to my place yourself.”

“You promised you were going to be a great host, Eric.”

“I am.” There’s a smile in his voice. “My first instinct was to throw it in the garbage, but I had a change of heart. You’re welcome.” He laughs and doesn’t berate me any further. He simply tells me to be careful, says something about the key being under the mat of his front door, and makes me promise to call him the moment I land in Portland.

I agree to call him and hang up. Although the two of us haven’t kept in touch as much since I graduated high school, he’s always said, “If you need anything, just ask,” so when I decided I was done with Michael and the boring reruns that had become my life, Eric offered me a place to stay. No questions asked.

After another hour of finding new ways to waste time in the terminal, I hear a gate agent come over the loud speaker, announcing that my flight is about to start boarding. I buy a bottle of water and a magazine before rushing over to my gate.

I grab the handle of my carry-on and stand in line, grateful that Eric upgraded my ticket to first class. Once I’m in my seat, I send a quick text to Autumn, promising to let her know when I arrive.