Lifetime

Arrivederci

My years in grad school were the busiest of my life. Most of my days started at seven in the morning before my first class at eight, continuing with lectures through the afternoon and a break that I used to complete internship hours until an evening class twice a week. On the days between I picked up shifts at the library and on weekends I worked as a tour guide at the Museum of Contemporary Art, allowing me to build the connections within the art community that I'd need to strengthen career opportunities after graduation.

That time felt like a blur and honestly there were days when I wanted to quit because looking back I rarely had fun. Even in the moments in between, I was left with such exhaustion that I slept every leftover hour away..

Sometimes I still fantasized about Namjoon, one of the few memories I had of him from our conversation over dinner in San Antonio. During the nights when I traded more study time for rest, I imagined that he would have still been awake too and that his active mind would make mine easier to keep going.

It may have just been my experience, but I entered a bit of a quarter life crisis after it was all finished. I felt it coming even before graduation, when I started to panic over finding a well-paying job and going back to life without the structure of school to supply a sense of normalcy. I contemplated returning home for the familiarity, fluctuating between that and craving something exciting and new.

Post graduation I granted myself permission to do nothing for a while, to find contentment in the next phase of my life being unclear. It'd been such a feat to keep up with the reading for school that I stopped reading for pleasure, cracking open my first fantasy novel the September after I graduated. I worked enough to pay my bills, diving into the frustrating lull of job searching and stream of rejection emails.

I needed a break, stuck in a middle ground of being overqualified through education and under qualified in experience. At the end of the year, on New Year's Eve I found myself out on a penthouse balcony, at a party packed with artists and consumers. I always heard that the way you spent the final day of the year was indicative of what was to come. I tucked away all sense of hope for change, not wanting to spend the next year hoping for my big break and leaned into an evening surrounded by a community of other creatives.

The night paid off as I bonded with Margo, a photographer ten years older than me. The fine lines that showed with her smile somehow made her more breathtakingly beautiful. She approached me to compliment my shoes, already tipsy from champagne and immediately informing me that she was avoiding talking business for the night, her intention set to prioritize pleasure over work in the coming year.

Two glasses of champagne later and we were cackling over our hatred for Dr. Phillips, the most difficult professor I had during graduate school and someone who needed a dire lesson in speaking instead of spraying.

We livened the party by dancing together despite the absence of a dance floor and when we counted down the seconds between the end and beginning of the year she kissed me on both of my cheeks.

"That is for Italy!" She smiled, a message that made no sense through her drunken giggles.

I would find clarity the following day when I checked my email, one flagged as important and titled with the same words she left me with the night before.

Inside I found a proposal, Margo raving that she hadn't stopped thinking of me after waking with a killer hangover, and confessing that she spent her morning of recovery learning more about me from the Internet and colleagues. She disclosed that she'd accepted a three year photography contract with Vogue Italia, my mouth dropping in awe when she suggested that I join her as an assistant.

I read and reread the message, then showed it to Faye who initially squealed with delight. I mean, it was Vogue Italia and bigger than any opportunity I could have ever imagined. After her moment of excitement she transitioned into pouting, hugging me as if I'd be leaving the next day.

"Relax, I haven't even accepted anything yet. I have a ton of questions I'll need answered first." I chuckled by her ear.

"I know, but this feels right. We've both been waiting for our next right thing and now I don't feel like crap for the offer I got to intern with Zanna Rassi." She confessed, exhaling with relief.

My mouth fell open in awe, Faye giggling and tapping at my chin so that I closed it. "If I weren't so happy for you I'd be more mad that you hadn't told me."

"So we drink, to New York and Italy!" She cheered, moving to the refrigerator and pulling out a bottle of wine. She laughed when I gagged at the sight of it, having drank too much the night before and in need of a good cleanse, opting for toasting with a wellness shot that tasted just as strong as liquor.

I met Margo for lunch within a week, her head shaking as soon as she saw me stand from the small table I picked for us in an empty area of the coffee shop. She ignored my extended hand to wrap both arms around me, hugging me as if she'd known me for years.

"Get rid of the blazer too. I absolutely hate formal interviews." She sat, immediately taking a sip of the drink I ordered for her.

I watched her eyebrows raise in surprise as she took another gulp. "Okay, I'll do anything for you to come to Italy with me because you just introduced me to my new favorite coffee order." She wiped the dab of froth on her mouth before leaning across the table.

I giggled. "I'm sure they have much better coffee in Italy."

"And I'm sure you'll find me the best coffee in Italy too." She winked, holding her cup up to tap against mine before diving into the proposition..

The offer was an easy sell once she reviewed my duties as her assistant and the starting salary, a little more than the amount I made if I combined the hourly rates from all of my jobs. The chance to live in Milan was the cherry on top of the proposal, though I already felt nervous about making new friends and learning about the city.

She was set to leave within the month, planning for me to join her once we hammered out the rush of paperwork I would need to live in Milan and housing arrangements. In the meantime she would provide as many tasks as could be completed remotely.

I sold almost every piece of furniture and decor that I'd accumulated over the years, and made time to visit my dad since we'd be separated even more by my approaching move. He never showed disappointment in my leaving, fashioning our living room into a dedication of my ventures, photos from my childhood all the way up to my graduation tucked into every space on the walls, tables and shelves. He immediately rearranged pictures to make room for the first I'd send him from Milan.

When it was all over, the thing I would miss most about Chicago was the constant friendship I found in Faye. My memories with Yoongi were a close second, but a part of it was tainted with the picturesque life I imagined with Namjoon. It was easy to imagine it as perfect when it'd never be real.

With the next part of my journey solidified, I extended some hope that even if two soulmates at once was complicated, I'd find a love that could be real, as real as the landing date printed on my boarding pass to Milan.

April 3, 2020
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Author's Note: Thanks so much for all the new reads recently on this story! It's always a challenge for me with this book to move on from writing about one soulmate to the next so I appreciate your patience as I transition into this next part. We have two soulmates coming up and only three left. Any predictions on who's next?