The Christmas Olympics

Christmas Karaoke Night

Christmas was in ten days and I still hadn't heard from Sarah.

The air mattress was now destroying my morale and earned its number one rank as Most Uncomfortable Bed, but I couldn't bring myself to get up, not even when my mother came in at 6am to do her weekday workout. The slow squeak of the bike pedals chanted a rhythm of defeat in my ear. Still, I lay there helplessly paralyzed by the crushing and overwhelming sensation of dejection. While I thought helping Arden with her ankle would invigorate me at the prospect of getting back into the application game, it only depressed me more as the days went on, reminding me I was still unemployed. Still homeless. Still single. Still pathetic.

By ten, I decided I should get up.

By eleven, I actually did.

I drug my feet down the hall and made myself coffee and breakfast, grateful everyone in my family was out of the house so I could wallow alone.

I stared at the blank screen of my phone while I slowly chewed my avocado toast, willing Sarah to call me.

She didn't.

I decided to plop down in the front of the TV to watch mindless Hallmark movies in my pajamas. At some point I must have fallen asleep on the couch, because Miles woke me up when he came home that evening.

"You okay? You look like shit," he asked, a frown on his face.

"Thanks," I said.

"No, seriously, you look horrible. You feeling okay? Have you even gotten off the couch today?"

"I'm fine. Just wallowing in my own pathetic self-pity."

"What's wrong?"

"Oh, you know, the usual: I'm just slowly realizing how pathetic I am." I grabbed my phone and brandished it like I was a deranged woman with a butcher's knife. "I've checked this stupid fucking thing at least a hundred times today, waiting for Sarah to text me like some idiot, but it's been three weeks and I haven't heard a word from her." I took a breath. "And wrapping Arden's stupid ankle was the first medical anything I've done since I finished my residency months ago, besides checking peoples' stupid moles. I'm thrilled my hundreds of thousands of dollars of student debt is being put to good use. And I'm sleeping on a fucking air mattress! I'm thirty-three years old and I'm sleeping on a god damned fucking air mattress. My back hurts."

"So you're having a pretty bad day. . ." Miles rubbed the back of his neck.

"Yeah, Miles, I'm having a pretty bad fucking day."

"I'm going to karaoke with some friends tonight down at Cooper's. Come with us."

"Karaoke isn't really my thing."

"We're not singing. We just drink and have fun."

"Is Arden one of the friends?"

"Yes, Arden is my friend."

"I'll pass."

"Come on, Morgan. Don't let Arden keep you at home. You're miserable. Come out with us and have fun. We'll be drinking and laughing at everyone who tries to sing Christmas songs. I promise you it's better than sitting at home feeling sorry for yourself." Miles did a once over on me. "Which isn't a good look on you, I've gotta say."

"Gee, thanks."

"Do you want to be coddled or do you want me to tell you the truth?" I chewed the side of my cheek in thought. "Well, let me know when you decide, I'm going to shower."

My brother left me to my Hallmark movies and nest on the couch. I assessed my situation: chip crumbs on my chest from lounging on the couch? Check. Hair an unwashed tangled mess? Check. Acute sense of self-loathing? Check.