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“Mia.” Michael got very quiet suddenly. “What are you saying?”
“I’m saying I’m only sixteen years old,” I burst out before I could stop myself. “And you’re going away for a year. OR MORE. And it’s not fair of you to expect me just to sit home like a freaking nun while you’re off with some Japanese CLARINETIST!”
“Mia.” Michael shook his head. “You’ve totally lost me with the clarinetist thing. I don’t have the slightest idea what you’re talking about. But so far as me expecting you to sit home like a freaking nun—I never asked you to do that. I didn’t exactly think you’d WANT to date other people while I’m gone—I certainly don’t have the slightest intention of going out with other people while I’m gone—but if you want to, I guess it wouldn’t exactly be fair of me to hold it against you. Except that I thought…” Whatever he was about to say, he seemed to think better of it. He shook his head. “Never mind. Look, if that’s what you want…”
Except that that WASN’T what I wanted!!!! That was the LAST THING I wanted.
But it didn’t look as if I was going to get ANYTHING that I wanted. What I’d WANTED was for Michael and me to give each other our Precious Gifts—sorry, make love—tonight, and for him to say afterward that he’d changed his mind and wasn’t going to Japan tomorrow after all.
But it turned out he HAD no Precious Gift to give, and he also had no intention of staying in America, whether I slept with him or not.
I HAD COMPROMISED MY FEMINIST PRINCIPLES BY OFFERING TO SLEEP WITH HIM NOW, TONIGHT, INSTEAD OF AFTER MY SENIOR PROM LIKE I HAD ALWAYS INSISTED, AND HE HAD BASICALLY SAID, “NO, THANK YOU.”
Well, more or less.
Did he really think I was just going to FORGIVE him for that?
Which has to be why I just looked at him and went, “Yes, Michael. That’s EXACTLY what I want. Because the truth is, if you’ve kept something like this from me through our whole relationship, it just makes me wonder what kind of relationship we really even have. I mean, you haven’t been HONEST with me—”
“YOU FREAKING NEVER ASKED!” NOW he was yelling. “I didn’t even know it was important to you! I don’t even know where the hell this Precious Gift crap came from!”
But it was too late. Much too late.
“And the fact that you’re so willing to move to ANOTHER COUNTRY,” I went on, “pretty much signals to me that this relationship has never meant all that much to you, anyway.”
“Mia.” Michael shook his head. Just once. He wasn’t yelling anymore. “Don’t do this.”
But what else was I supposed to do? WHAT ELSE???
I reached up and undid the snowflake necklace from around my neck. The snowflake necklace he’d given me on my fifteenth birthday. I held it out to him, the way Arwen gave her necklace—the Evenstar—to Aragorn, as a parting gift to remember her by as he attempted to regain his throne in an effort to win her father’s approval.
Only I was giving Michael his necklace back—not because I wanted him to keep it to remember me by.
But because I didn’t want it anymore.
Because suddenly that snowflake was just a reminder of who ELSE had been at that dance—Judith Gershner.
And, okay, she’d been there with another guy. That girl really seemed to get around. But still.
The thing is, it was totally different for Aragorn and Arwen. Because Aragorn never Did It with a girl who knew how to clone fruit flies. And then lied about it.
And okay, only by omission. But still.
He NEVER TOLD ME. What ELSE hasn’t he told me???? HOW CAN I TRUST HIM WHEN HE GOES TO JAPAN????
“Mia,” Michael said, this time in a totally different voice. Not like he was choked up, like Aragorn had been. But like he wanted to punch me in the face. Which I knew he’d never do. But still. He looked pretty angry. “Do. Not. Do. This.”
“Good-bye, Michael,” I said with a sob. Because WHAT ELSE WAS THERE TO SAY?
And I dropped the necklace on the floor—because he wouldn’t take it—and ran out of there before I choked on my own tears.
And now Ephrain Kleinschmidt has pulled up in front of my buil
ding and wants seventeen dollars. I’m going to give him a twenty and let him keep the change as a tip. I owe him that much, at least, for all the Kleenex. Which I finally did start using, because I totally can’t stop crying. There’s no WAY I’m going to be able to hide what happened from my mom. If she’s still up when I get inside, anyway.
If this is what self-actualization feels like, all I have to say is, I was a lot happier before I became self-actualized.
Thursday, September 9, 11 p.m., the loft
