Gretchen
Our love was Titanium.
Me
No Diggity.
Gretchen
No Doubt.
I love you.
Me
I love you, too.
Gretchen
I miss thehell out of you.
Me
Me, too.
November
“That’s the last of it.” I close the trunk of my car, filled to max capacity with the last of my things. My apartment upstairs is empty, save for the bed frame and mattress.
I peel the key off my key chain and pass it to my best friend. “The guy buying the bed is coming by in the morning to pick it up.”
“Got it. I’ll be here,” Drew says, tucking the key into his pocket.
“And I told the office you’d drop the keys off on Monday.”
Drew bobs his head, neither of us too keen on eye contact at the moment. “And Gretch still doesn’t know you’re showing up three days early?”
I shake my head. “Nope. No clue.”
As far as she knows, I have some work stuff to wrap up over the weekend and will make the drive to New Jersey on Monday. Unbeknownst to her, thanks to many early mornings and late nights, my team has reached the end of the Governor’s campaign project. I’ll need to video-conference in on Monday morning to give a final recap to my boss, but he approved my request to make yesterday my official last day in the office.
The work I’ve done on this project, along with the generous letter of recommendation from Mr. Driskill, was my golden ticket to secure a marketing management position at a sports magazine start-up in Manhattan. My years spent as a quarterback may have done me a few favors, too. It’s a mid-sized operation, spear-headed by a few athletes turned executives around my age, all of them with wives and kids—really down to earth guys that I’m excited to work with.
I met with my new bosses on a video call this morning and we hashed out the details of the position. I’ll report to the office for my first day the Monday after Thanksgiving.
After I hung up from that call, I super-sonic cleaned my apartment, cleared out my fridge, packed up my bathroom and closet, and patched up the walls to ensure I get my security deposit back.
When Gretchen texted this afternoon to check in, I played right into the plan as she knows it.
“You sure you’re good to drive through the night?”
“I’m good.”
We’re both stalling. He shifts on his feet while I twirl the key ring around my finger. Drew and I have never been more than a few blocks apart in the entire fifteen years we’ve been friends.
“Well, you should probably get going,” he finally says.
“Yeah.”
