32 Sloane
November 2018
Lauren moves about the room with a practiced efficiency, the sound of her suitcase’s zipper cutting through the quiet. She pauses to glance at me, sprawled on her bed, concern crossing her face.
“Just take the train in and out tomorrow. I don’t want you to be alone for Thanksgiving! Miles’s mom invited you. They have more than enough food,” she urges.
Last week, exactly ten days before Thanksgiving, Ethan told me that he made plans to go to Wilmington. He didn’t ask if I wanted to come, and I guess I didn’t expect him to, but that didn’t make it hurt any less. It was official: I’d be spending Thanksgiving alone.
“It’s fine, really! It’ll be nice to have a day to myself. I thought about trying to go to the parade but some of my coworkers said they get there before five a.m., which is a huge no from me.” My laughter is genuine, if a bit forced, trying to hide the disappointment.
“Next year, you should have one of your parents come, and maybe mine will, and we can all do the parade!” she offers. “I’ve always wanted to go!”
Lauren’s heading to Connecticut to meet Miles’s parents for the first time, and as nice as it was for them to extend an invitation, that sounded like the last plan I wanted to crash. The good part about being in the city for Thanksgiving is that nothing really closes, so my takeout options are endless.
“So what do you think you’ll do tomorrow then?” Lauren asks.
“Sex and the City reruns and an entire bottle of wine probably,” I respond, the plan sounding more appealing as I say it out loud.
Lauren settles next to me on the bed, the mattress dipping slightly under our weight. She looks at me, her expression softening.
“This reminds me of college,” she says, a hint of nostalgia in her tone. “Remember when we’d lie in each other’s beds for hours without saying anything? Scrolling Instagram and playing Candy Crush?”
“I’m gonna miss living together,” I admit.
“Me too,” she echoes.
This is probably the most intimate moment we’ve ever had. Our friendship is deep, but it’s never been too emotional. That’s the beauty of Lauren; she keeps life so lighthearted. This moment was different. I could feel our friendship start to shift. It made me scared for the future and made me wonder if I needed to take my relationship with Ethan more seriously. While I hate the thought of having that conversation with him, I hate the thought of being single while all my friends are in love, getting married, and having kids.
With Ethan I know there will be more than just one Thanksgiving alone. There will be weddings with no plus one and office holiday parties where I’ll get asked where my boyfriend is or if I’m single. I remember the days I used to love being single. I think I could get there again. It’s not the thought of being alone that scares me, it’s the thought of losing him.
Loving him is hard, but leaving would be harder.
Why can’t it just be easy?
***
The TV asks if I’m still watching as I grab the remote to start the fourth Sex and the City episode of the night. Before I hit yes, I pick up my phone to see if Graham or Ethan have posted anything. Odds are they’re either downtown or at the beach bars. It’s Thanksgiving Eve in their hometown after all. My anxiety gets the best of me, so I go to the kitchen to pour myself another glass of wine. I empty the rest of the bottle into my glass and toss the remnants into the trash can.
I sit back on my favorite side of the couch and decide to turn on the movie instead of the show. Every time I watch the scene where Mr. Big leaves Carrie at the altar, I cry. And right now, I’m feeling a good cry.
I curl up under a blanket as I watch a fictional character go through something I’m so afraid of. If I’m terrified of it, why does a small part of me still imagine it happening between Ethan and me? Why do I want to be with someone who I think would leave me at the altar? Even the smallest inkling of that feeling should tell someone that’s not who they’re meant to end up with. So why am I still with him?
“Some love stories aren’t epic novels. Some are short stories, but that doesn’t make them any less filled with love,” Carrie says.
For once she makes sense.
Tears stream down my face. Is Ethan my Mr. Big? I’ve always hated Big, but this scene just highlighted what I’ve been contemplating for the past few weeks. I’m so afraid to leave Ethan, even though I know it’s the right thing to do. I can’t keep waiting around for someone to love me who doesn’t. Maybe he does love me. It’s not enough though.
Usually I hate pity parties, but I can’t help but feel a little sorry for myself tonight. I’m spending Thanksgiving alone in my small New York City apartment while two of my favorite people are in our college town without me. Ethan probably doesn’t even realize how fucked up it is that he left me here. But it is. It’s really fucked up. He might not know what it’s like to have someone who wants to love him, someone who doesn’t want to leave him, but that doesn’t give him an excuse to treat me as if I don’t exist.
I wake up the next morning with a pounding headache (thanks, wine) and no missed calls or texts. What a way to kick off Thanksgiving Day.
Groaning at the fact that I don’t have a TV in my room, I slowly make my way into the living room to put on the parade and make a cup of coffee. While I wait for the Keurig to finish brewing, I call my mom.
“Hi, honey, happy Thanksgiving!” The warmth in her voice reminds me of how much I miss her.
“Hey, Mom. Happy Thanksgiving to you too! How’s London?” I reply.
“Oh, it’s amazing, sweetie. How are you? Are you at the parade?” she asks, hopeful.
“No, I just woke up.” A yawn stretches through my response.
“Well, your doorman should have some champagne waiting for you downstairs. I’m sorry again we’re not together today, but I’ll see you in just a few weeks for Christmas. I ordered us new matching pajamas. Your favorite tradition!”
“I think you mean your favorite tradition,” I tease her.
“Whatever you say. Well, look, honey, I have to get going, but I hope you have a great day. Love you!”
I end the call with a soft “Love you too, Mom.”
At least that killed about four minutes of my day. As I pick up the phone to call my dad, it buzzes in my hand. Expecting it to be a group chat, I’m pleasantly surprised when I see Ethan’s name pop up.
10:11 a.m.
Ethan Brady:Happy Thanksgiving, turkey. Can’t wait to get home and gobble you up ??
10:12 a.m.
Me:Omfg, you’re so cheesy
10:13 a.m.
Me:Happy Thanksgiving, tell Graham I say hi!
10:15 a.m.
Ethan Brady:You ain’t seen nothin’ yet
For the next few seconds, I uncontrollably smile at the message and forget that he’s the reason why I’m spending a holiday all alone.