Fifty-Seven—Mia
W
hat a difference a day can make. Well, actually almost two. Yesterday morning, I woke up miserable, no viable final project, the love of my life ignoring me, and my brother… my brother . This afternoon, at the end of a grueling week, I have a final project, accepted by my committee of professors and even better, blessed by one Kyle Donohue. More importantly, I heard from Derek’s commanding officer that my D had been in the infirmary being treated for a shoulder injury. Infuriatingly, the man had left no details other than Derek’s insistence that he make contact with me to let me know that he was fine and would be in touch soon. My first thought was he must have gotten my email. My second thought was that I’d meant every word—no regrets. My third was: Shoulder injury? Did that mean bullet wound? Snake bite? Shattered bones from falling out of a plane? I blinked back tears. If I didn’t have ninety-nine other things to distract me, I knew I would have curled up in a corner and obsessively chewed on my hair.
My phone rang, and I was never so grateful for the interruption. Even if it was Bo.
“Hey. Did you get to Savannah?” I said.
My brother barked out a cryptic laugh. “No. And at this rate, who knows.”
“What’s going on? What does that mean?”
Heavy sigh. “My car broke down in Crab Orchard, Tennessee. I was lucky to limp off the freeway. Triple A took two hours to get to me, and then I sat in a plastic waiting room watching Dr. Phil reruns for four-and-a-half hours until they told me it couldn’t be fixed until tomorrow.”
“What?”
“Kill me, now. I mean it, Mia. Kill me now.”
“What’s wrong with your car?”
Heavier sigh. “Radiator pump. Supposedly easy fix, except they had to order the part from Nashville, which is two-and-a-half hours away but might as well be Tibet. Four-and-a-half hours, Mia. On a plastic chair in a plastic room. I offered to Uber to Nashville and pick it up for them, but no. Against company policy. Apparently.”
“Where are you now?”
“I’m in hell. And by hell, I mean a place called The Roll Inn in Crossville—about twenty minutes from my car. Nice woman, terrible room. The best I could do was beg her for as many towels as she would allow me and spread them over the sheets. I’m lying here, fully dressed, on a layer of threadbare terrycloth staring at a stained ceiling.”
I bit my lip to keep from audibly groaning. I didn’t care, which makes me an awful sister. “I’m sorry…” I managed. “What about your car?”
“They’ll bring it to me in the morning, is what they said. I’ll believe it when I see it.”
“Well…slight setback. You just have to get through tonight. Right? You can do that. You probably need the sleep anyway.”
“I do!” he bit. “But that’s not going to happen here!”
“Oh, stop. Is there a convenience store you can walk to?”
“I don’t know!”
“Hey! Tone. Find out. Get something to eat, grab some Excedrin PM—or better yet, take a Xanax because I know you haven’t. Go to sleep. It’s not the end of the world.”
“I hate it when you’re glib, Mia.”
“I hate it when nothing is more important than you. Get over yourself! ”
“Well, thank you very much,” he said with more tone. “This isn’t hard for me or anything.”
I shook my head, wearily. “Bo, life is supposed to be hard—builds character, remember? But the good news is by this time tomorrow you’ll probably be there, so buck up.” I hung up on him, frustrated and bothered. I knew it was because of Derek…and perspective…and my annoying brother who had none. He must have figured it out because he immediately called back. I didn’t pick up because I was feeling snotty. I just texted what had happened to Derek and that I didn’t have anything else to say right now. Bo texted back that he was sorry he was a jerk.
I let him be sorry for a minute. Then I texted back, “Me, too.”
After that, I tried to call Ivy. Again. We’d missed each other twice, and as her phone rang and rang, it looked like it was going to be three times. When she said to leave a message, I left the same one as last time: “Your turn, girl. I hope you’re okay. I’m here. Call when you get a chance.”
I hung up wanting to cry. I definitely wanted to check on her and everything she was going through. But if I’m being completely honest, I also really needed a friend.
Derek, Bo, Camille, Ivy, Lullaby, my globe-trotting besties—all M.I.A. at the moment, and I was feeling it. It’s not like I didn’t have any other friends I could call tonight, but somehow that seemed like too much work. I sighed. It looked like it was going to be a mope and movie night with plenty of cookie dough on the side. And if I got ambitious, I would try and whittle down my collection of Ivy photos to the twenty I would use for my capstone project.
I wasn’t optimistic.