“Yeah. You’re fucked,” she states, with the finality of a detective on a crime show. I bury my face in the pillow and let out a frustrated sigh into the feathers. It isn’t until I breathe in that I realize that this was Mira’s pillow, and the spike to my olfactory senses only intensifies the pain in my chest.
“What do I do?” I ask, my words muffled by the pillow.
“Not smothering yourself would be a start,” she argues as I sit up. “Look on the bright side, at least Katherine didn’t barge in. Now that would have been bad.”
“True,” I reply, grateful she left on the earlier flight.
“The woman basically declared squatter’s rights to keep herself in your apartment. Could you imagine if she found out you were into someone else? She’d freak out.”
“She’s not that bad,” I counter. Or at least she never used to be.
I met Katherine right after I moved to Raleigh from Charlotte, running into her at one of the networking events my father insisted I attend in an effort to get me out of my comfort zone. When shefound out I was new to the city she offered to show me around some of her favorite places, and I eagerly agreed.
An introvert by nature, I prefer being outside in the quiet, watching human interactions more than partaking in them, but I never complained when Katherine forced me to go out with her. I went to dinner parties and stayed up past my bedtime at clubs with music that made my head hurt. I changed myself to fit into her lifestyle the best I could, so when she came home and announced that she wanted to open the relationship, the words “I think we should break up” sprang out of my mouth faster than a sprinter at the starting line.
Katherine tried to save face, explaining that it was just an idea, a fad she thought might be fun to try, like buttered coffee or aerial yoga, but I didn’t believe her. I could tell that she wasn’t happy and, if I was being honest, I don’t think I ever was.
I thought I could start over, discover what I actually wanted from a partner, but our breakup was put on the backburner when, a few days later, my stepbrother and Katherine’s best friend Meredith announced that they were getting married. Between engagement parties and family luncheons, Katherine and I were expected to be together. And with the wedding set for June, only a few months away, we made the decision to keep our breakup a secret.
In the meantime, I hoped Katherine would pack up her things and find a new place to live. But even for a real-estate agent, finding accommodations in her price range that would accept her mediocre credit score was harder than getting into Harvard.
Every day was another disappointment, and I regretted agreeing to the stupid ruse in the first place. Especially when Katherine started to blur the lines of our arrangement; using me as an emotional dumping ground to vent about work or sitting on the couch for longer than necessary in the evenings, in the hope that I’d go to bed with her.
And that’s why I started working at Finn’s. To put distance between us. To allow the reality of our breakup to settle in. And she got the message, finding an apartment she can move into the day we get back from Wyoming.
I was elated. Ready to have her out of my space, my life, to start something new. To start something with Mira. But of course, I fucked it all up.
“This is the worst timing. I leave in ...” I check the time on my phone. “Two hours.”
“How about this,” Lilah says, sitting up. “If she comes in while you’re gone, I’ll assess the situation and report back.”
“And if she hates me?”
“Then I’ll explain that you’re a good guy.”
“Why are you saying that like it’s a bad thing?”
“Because in your case it is,” Lilah huffs, and I hate that she’s right.
Standing up for myself is a character trait I never grew into. It’s the reason I found myself in this mess in the first place. As much as I would love to blame Katherine for this turn of events, this mess is my own doing.
“Thanks for talking me down.”
“Anytime,” Lilah says, giving me a half-smile. “As long as it’s after ten.”
“Noted,” I reply, ending the call.
Lying back on my bed, I stare at the stupid blackout curtains Katherine installed even though I’ve always loved waking up to the sunrise. I want to tear them down and burn them. But I know I’ll probably just fold them up and place them in one of the many moving boxes coming on Monday.
Taking a deep breath, I open my text chain with Mira and cling to the hope that she doesn’t hate me as I type a message.
Are you okay? I heard you on the phone and then you ran out. Just wanted to check in.
I sit there for a few minutes waiting for a reply. I know I should wait it out, but staring back at my words, insecurity washes over me as I send another message.
I hope that you don’t regret last night.
And then another.
