The Irish King's Obsession

1. Atara

Atara

“You can do this!”

Tania’s voice is vibrating so hard through my phone that I have to pull it an inch away from my ear. I can practically see her jumping on her bed in excitement.

“Tania, I’m literally just going to his place so we can leave for the airport,” I say, laughing as I adjust my graduation cap.

It’s still pinned to my head, and my teal silk dress feels like a second skin.

It’s vibrant and expensive, and I wanted him to appreciate me in it, or out of it, before changing into a more comfortable traveling set.

“Uh-huh, sure,” she snorts. “Listen, you guys are the ultimate power couple. You’ve been together since freshman year, and the way Mark was looking at you during the ceremony today? Girl, he looked like he wanted to put a ring on it right there on the stage. Go get your rock!”

I roll my eyes, but I can’t stop the grin from spreading across my face. “I am not ‘going to get my ring.’ We’re going on a celebratory trip to Ireland because we’re geniuses who just graduated top of our class. That’s it.”

“One hundred bucks says he confesses tonight,” Tania sings. “Enjoy yourself, genius. If I’m right, you owe me!”

“Bye, crazy,” I laugh and hang up.

I stand outside Mark’s door for a second, taking a deep breath.

Okay, so maybe Tania isn’t totally insane.

A ring feels like the logical next step, right?

Mark is my proper-proper boyfriend. He doesn't miss a beat. He’s the guy who remembers anniversaries and always picks the right wine.

Our relationship isn't some wild, soul-shattering bonfire, but it’s nice.

It’s stable. He’s a good kisser, he takes me on actual dates, and the sex…

well, the sex is okay. It’s fine. It’s consistent.

Maybe a proposal will add some of that ‘oomph’ people always write about in books.

I’m not the type to get cold feet, so I shake off the nerves, put on my best ‘Atara Sunshine’ smile, and knock.

When the door opens, I don't even wait for him to speak. I lung forward, wrapping my arms around his neck. “We did it! Officially graduates!” I yap excitedly, pulling back to beam at him. “Are you packed? I’ve already checked the weather in Ireland like five times, and I think we need more sweaters, but honestly, who cares? We’ll be at a resort! We can just stay in bed and—”

I stop.

Mark isn't hugging me back. His arms are stiff at his sides, and his face looks like he’s staring at a particularly boring math equation. He feels… cold. Not ‘I’m tired from the ceremony’ cold, but ‘I’m disconnected’ cold.

“Mark? What’s wrong?” I ask, my smile faltering.

“Atara,” he says, and his voice is so clinical it makes the hair on my arms stand up. “I didn’t bother with the packing. We’re done.”

The air leaves my lungs in a sharp, painful rush. Wait, what? My heart doesn't just sink; it feels like it’s being crushed under a heavy, indifferent boot.

“W-what?”

The word feels small. Pathetic, really. I’m still standing here with my arms hovering in the air where his neck is supposed to be, feeling the absence of his expensive cologne, something I bought him for his birthday, clinging to my teal silk.

Mark takes a step back into his apartment, clearing the threshold as if he’s worried I might suddenly go mad. He looks at me, and for a second, I expect him to laugh. I expect him to say ‘Gotcha! My bags are packed, and the Uber is downstairs.’

But Mark doesn’t do ‘gotchas.’ He’s not the type.

“We’ve had a good run, Atara. Five years is a significant investment of time,” he says, and he actually has the audacity to check his watch.

“But we’re graduating. Life is moving into a different phase.

I’ve accepted the position at Sterling I have my career.”

I stare at him in shock. This is the man I thought was 'the one,' the 'stable' choice, the guy who always picked the right wine. I realize now he only picked the right wine because he’d researched the most impressive label for the price point.

“You used me,” I whisper. “You used my brain to get your degree, you used my social skills to network with the deans, and now that you’ve got the degree and the job, you’re… what? Refactoring your assets?”

“If you want to put it in those terms, yes,” Mark says, his face devoid of any actual guilt. “It’s just logic, Atara. Don’t be emotional about it. It makes you look… well, it proves my point about the optics.”

What?!

He reaches into his back pocket, pulls out a folded piece of paper, and holds it out.

“What is that? A bill for the wine?”

“It’s your ticket,” he says with a gleam in his eyes that looks very much like amusement.

“I already cancelled mine and took the refund. But since you did do a lot of the heavy lifting this semester, keep yours. Think of it as a severance package. Enjoy Ireland. I hear the cliffs are lovely this time of year.”

I don't take it. I can't move my hands. I’m afraid that if I reach for that paper, I’ll accidentally use my graduation cap to beat him to death, and then I’ll be arrested and jailed, and my life will end.

“Severance package,” I breathe out. My lungs feel like they’re filled with hot sand. “You’re really doing this?”

“I’m ending a partnership that reached its natural conclusion. That’s what I’m doing.” He checks his watch again. “I have a celebratory dinner in twenty minutes. I’d appreciate it if you leave quietly and not make a scene in the hallway.”

I want to scream. I want to hurl my heavy, expensive textbook, the one I let him borrow for months, directly at his perfectly straight teeth. But instead, a weird, hysterical bubble of laughter rises in my chest.

Tania always said I’d run myself mad soon with all the reading I was doing. I guess I really am running mad, but reading isn’t what has caused my madness.

“You know what the funny thing is, Mark?” I say, stepping closer.

He flinches just a tiny bit, and God, it feels good.

“You think you’re the one moving up. You think you’re the smart one because you ‘managed’ to fool me?

But those study guides? I dumbed them down for you.

If I’d given you my actual notes, your brain would have leaked out of your stupid ears by sophomore year. ”

I snatch the ticket from his hand. I don’t even know why. Spite, probably.

“Good luck with the optics, Mark. I hope the senior partners think your lack of personality is a professional choice and not just a birth defect.”

I turn on my heel before he can respond. My heels click-clack against the tile of the hallway, sounding like a ticking clock. I don't look back. I don't cry. Not yet. I have to hold it in.

The Uber ride to the airport is a blur of neon lights and the smell of 'New Car' air freshener that makes me want to vomit. I’m still wearing the teal dress, but I take off the graduation sash and cap and shoved them into my traveling tote bag.

I don’t even know what I’m doing anymore, but I know I will be going to fucking Ireland with or without that bastard.

I’m sitting in the terminal, surrounded by families in cargo shorts and business travelers in rumpled blazers. And then there’s me. Atara. Top of her class. Heartbroken. Looking like I’m headed to a prom that ended in a tragic fire.

My phone vibrates. It’s Tania’s message.

Tania: HE DID IT DIDN'T HE?! Send a pic of the rock right now, or I’m calling the police to report a theft of my joy!

I stare at the screen. My thumb hovers over the keyboard.

I could tell her. I could tell her that I’m sitting at Gate B12 with a 'severance' ticket and a dress that I’d been so happy to buy just last week, but now I can’t wait to tear it off my skin.

But if I say it out loud or type it out, it becomes a fact.

And right now, I need this situation to stay a nightmare I can wake up from.

Me: Not exactly. Change of plans. I’ll call you when I land.

Tania: WHEN I LAND? Not when WE LAND?! Land where? Atara?? ATARA!