“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 beemotional 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 stillwearing 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!
I turn my phone off and look at the ticket in my hand.Atara Ross. JFK to Dublin.The logical thing to do… the Atara thing todo is to go home to my tiny apartment, crawl into bed, eat a tub of cookie dough, crying, and spend the next week deleting five years of photos. I should be mourning.
But then I think of Mark’s face.That bastard doesn’t deserve my tears. Hethinks I’m a variable he’s solved and discarded? He thinks he’s the only one who gets to have a 'new phase.'?? Wellfuckhim. I’ll show him.
“Boarding all Group A passengers for Flight 104 to Dublin,” the gate agent announces.
I stand up. My legs feel like lead, but my brain is suddenly humming. I’m not going home to cry. If I go home, Mark wins. If I go home, I’m just the girl who got dumped on graduation night.
I smooth out my dress. It’s wrinkled, and my hair is a mess of curls that have given up the fight against the humidity. I look like a freaking disaster.
But I’m a disaster with a boarding pass and a 3.9 GPA.
“Ticket, please,” the agent says, barely looking up.
