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ONE

MONTH

LATER

MARCH 12th

Valentine's weekend, henceforth to be called Weekend from a Heaven-Hell Hybrid on Earth, came and went. It's been one month. Four weeks.

Four Brooks-free weeks. FOUR.

It's been raining a lot. Almost like the weather is mimicking my soul-mood. Vance Joy's Mess is Mine seems to be my go-to lately. Great mixtape material.

It's another typical gray morning. Zoë is opening Go Zen today so I get to sleep in. Not that I've been up to sleeping in lately. Instead, I get up early to make my coffee and pretend to have an appetite enough for half a gluten-free muffin or artisan avocado toast. Then I crawl back into bed with a book. I'm just about to open it when my phone vibrates against my leg. I lay my book flat cross my stomach and flip my phone over.

One little man's name and fuck.

U still in for MIAMI?

What?  FUCK.

...

Star Resorts opening. U promised.

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As friends : /

Shit I did promise... what feels like one hundred years ago. I look at the cute puppy calendar taped to the side of my nightstand. Thursday.  Miami is tomorrow. I don't see how it's going to happen. I text a quick response.

IDK. Need to check w/ Zoë.

Come on Em

I forgot. Sorry : (

I got a tix in ur name. check email.

FUCK!

He said as friends. That's not lost on me.

I exit from the text and check my email right away. There it is. Round-trip ticket to Miami for tomorrow morning. Forwarded by Brooks 17 minutes ago.

I can almost picture his face as he's texting me. I wonder if he's thinking of the last time we saw each other –of how we left things –of how he left me. Part of me is surprised he still wants me to come. Yes, it makes me excited. No, I'm not well. 

He makes me excited.

Shit, I'm going to go.

Yup, I'm gonna go.

The book falls from my bed as I sit up. I quick scroll through my texts until I find Zoë's name beside her yoga girl emoji.

U got the studio this weekend?

...

Got it. U good?

I don't know why telling the truth brings hesitation. Maybe it's because Zoë just watched me retreat into a weird eerie stupor the last month? Oh well, fuck it.

Miami with the hottie : )

MIAMI? Get it!!

U the best!

Suddenly I'm nervous. But why? The nightmare of a conversation we shared on Valentine's Day almost seems silly now. He still wants me to come. Read: Still wants me. Of course I share every feeling he has. Of course his words could have been my words. I decide I'm going to tell him. Literally the worst that can happen is... I die? Eh. Risk vs reward, amirite.

Who the fuck cares if we are destined to fail (again)? Maybe I can't have my Brooks and fuck him too. But I'm sure going to try.

Who wouldn't?