Adrian
Today isthe day for our weekend getaway. It’s so hard to get a weekend off from the tattoo shop, since those are our busiest days. Drunken people looking to add their dates name to their bodies, no matter how much we protest. And teens trying to come in with a fake license. It’s always amusing on those nights because Charleigh has zero patience with those people. But Miranda has been acting different lately, and I wanted to surprise her with a beach trip all to ourselves. No clients or late nights getting in our way, just us and the frothy waves splashing against the shore.
Shuffling through the laundry basket at the foot of my bed, I pull out enough clothes to last the weekend. It’s something I should have done before, but I’ve been at the shop past closing time the last few nights trying to get people out of the door as fast as possible. Honestly, I think that is what is causing the strain between us. At the same time, she knew what she was getting into when she started dating me, and when I proposed. Nothing has changed. Hell, it’s actually helped since Charleigh has started tattooing as well. The workload is more evenly spread out.
All Miranda sees, though, is late nights and fear that I’ll find someone else. Hopefully this weekend shows her that she’s it for me. She’s all I want, and there will never be anyone else for me. If there was any doubt on my end, I wouldn’t have asked her to marry me.
The front door opening then closing catches my attention. “Miranda?” I call out. When she doesn’t answer, I walk into the living room. She’s staring out the window, her arms crossed over her chest. “I’m almost done packing then we can head out.”
She doesn’t respond, or even look in my direction. Silence is never a good thing with her, it’s something I’ve learned over the two years we’ve been together. If she’s quiet, she’s upset about something. “Is everything okay?”
Still nothing. Glancing around the living room, I notice the lack of bags. Dread builds in the pit of my stomach. “Did you leave your suitcases in the car?”
“That’s what I need to talk to you about,” she says. Her voice is quiet, barely about a whisper. She’s finally looking at me, though.
“Are you not coming with me? Did something happen?” It wouldn’t be out of the realm of possibility. Her job at one of the top advertising firms in Dallas keeps her pretty busy. They’ve been known to ask her to work over the weekend for some of their bigger clients. But they usually give her more than a days’ notice when that happens.
Miranda leans against the window frame, massaging her temples as if she’s suddenly been struck with a headache. “Nothing happened, but I’m not going to the beach with you this weekend.”
“Why not?” I stammer. “I have so many things planned for us. This is supposed to be our weekend to get away from our busy schedules.” If I sound like a child pouting because I’m not getting my way, so be it. I’ve been looking forward to this weekend for over a month. Time alone, just the two of us, without any other worries. Not to mention it was hard as hell to get off work since weekends are the best nights for tattoos. And… I’m losing out on tips that could have gone toward our wedding.
I take a few steps toward her, willing her to see how much I want her to go with me. “Talk to me.”
The second her eyes meet mine; I’m not going to like what she’s going to say. There’s no regret in them, only resignation. She sighs so loudly that I feel like I’m missing some important piece of information. “This, you and me,” she waves her fingers between us. “Isn’t working. We are two completely different people, and want different things.”
“What do you mean?” There’s no way she can mean what she’s saying. Things were going great between us. A little tense at times, but overall, I think we have a solid relationship.
“I want more from life. If things at work keep progressing, I’ll be up for a promotion soon. There’s no way I can achieve that while I’m with you. We’ve been together for two years, and you’re still only a tattoo artist.”
Everything else she said doesn’t bug me. It’s that last statement that makes my blood boil. “I was a tattooist when we started dating. I’m always going to be one. It’s my passion, and something I’m damn good at. It’s not like I’m hurting for money.” I spread my arms out wide to indicate the apartment I live in. It’s not some massive living space, but it’s downtown and nicer than anything I’ve ever lived in.
“I didn’t mean it like that,” she retorts. “I just thought you’d move on to something different. You’d dabble in this for a while until you figured out what you really want to do with your life.”
“This is what I want to do with my life. It’s what I’ve always wanted to do. Ever since I first put pencil to paper,” I yell. “Where is this really coming from? Your parents?” Then a thought hits me. One I don’t want to begin entertaining, but it would make sense with all the late nights and the distance she’s put between us. “Is there someone else?”
She winces, and I know I’ve gotten my answer. “No,” she quickly replies. “I just don’t think we’re at the same place in our lives.”
“Don’t lie to me, Miranda.” What seemed like a spacious apartment moments ago now feels like a tiny box, suffocating me. “I deserve the truth, at least.”
“I’m not lying,” she says, softly. “Not completely. I haven’t physically cheated on you. But there’s a guy at work who lines up with what my parents want for me, and fits in with the career I’m busting my ass to achieve.”
“So that’s it, then?” I’m pacing back and forth, unable to stand still. The urge to take out my anger, and frustration, on the wall is hard to ignore. “You’re going to throw away what we have, all the love I have for you, for someone who looks good on paper?” Coming to a stop, I turn and look at her. “If you didn’t want this, why did you say yes when I proposed?”
“I, I don’t know,” she whispers. “I thought things would be different.”
It’s not often that I’m rendered speechless, but now is one of those times. Not once in this entire conversation, has she said that she’s sorry, or gotten upset. It’s as if I’m a passing phase for her. A toy while she sows her oats, when I’ve loved her with every fiber of my soul. “You need to go.”
“Can we at least be friends?” She asks on her way toward the door.
“Are you fucking kidding me right now, Miranda?” The audacity of those six words make me see red. “No, we can’t be friends. In what universe would you think that’s even a possibility?”
“I was just hoping…” She begins, but I don’t let her finish.
“There’s nothing to hope for,” I say. “I don’t even want to look at you. I’ll drop your things off at your office. But, before you go, I want the key back. You no longer have a right to come here.”
Silently, she takes the key to my apartment off her key ring, placing it on the table before she walks out of the door without a backward glance. She doesn’t even care that she just ripped out my heart and put it through a grinder. What we had was real, or at least, I thought it was. Apparently, I’m just another lovesick moron that fell for the wrong girl.
To make matters worse, I’m screwed on this trip. Everything is already paid for, and now there’s no reason for me to go. I’m sure Corey will be okay if I come into work. There are a few concerts going on in the area, and that means an influx of people coming into the shop. The only difficult part would be tattooing people who are getting ink for the special person in their lives. That’s definitely not something I want to be around right now.
Grabbing my bag from the bed, I make the decision to go ahead with the trip. I don’t need her with me to enjoy the beach. Instead of it being a weekend of passion and love, I’ll be using it to forget the first girl I’ve allowed myself to love.