Losing the love of my life taught me that inactions have consequences. My new bookkeeping job teaches me that numbers don't lie, but people do.
Sharing yoga with others is my refuge from the darkness pulling me to stay home. A ginormous pro footbal...
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"I'm home!"
Warm comfort smells welcomed me and make my empty stomach gurgle. I dropped my bag in the hall with a thud and kicked my shoes into the front closet. The hardwoods cooled my bare feet. I padded into the kitchen and came to an abrupt stop. It wasn't empty. My roommates weren't due back for three more days. Their ear-to-ear, beaming smiles dissolved mine.
Suspicious.
"Hey..." I breathed out the word. "Y'all are... smiley."
Michael's smile broke into a laugh. His arm wrapped around Abby's waist made their hips bump. "Can't we be happy to see you?"
"Not without cause." I narrowed my eyes at Michael's phone-free ear. "Shouldn't you be on Sam ego mop-up duty? Assuring him the world is still turning around him or touting his endless accolades to any other unfortunate team?"
Or nursing him back to insufferable status after he face-planted in my class. I spent the drive home wondering why the fuck Sam was even there, only to assume the culprit stood in my direct line of fire. Hint: it wasn't Abby. Anger still simmered in my veins, and Michael owed me an explanation. "Enlighten me, please. Why the fuck am I being haunted by Sam Pearson!?"
"Huh? We need to–oh." Michael's pocket rang with my least favorite ringtone. "Hey, Sam."
Here we go. I closed my eyes. Our reel of exchanges, if they even deserved that reference, always left a sour taste. I didn't need to look further than that knuckle-dragger's sexual gesture before I ground my teeth. What was more insulting, that he tried to charm himself between my legs or couldn't bother to remember who I was? We'd met countless times thanks to Michael. None were pleasant. The first time was Sam's draft night, and tonight's class joined the shit pile I still tried to forget.
"No, I'm not busy," Michael assured his asinine, one-directional boss. "Oh? Oh...sorry to hear that."
Michale's only reaction was frowning. He wasn't surprised. "It's for the best. Give her space to sort out how she feels. Hmm... yes, she signed an NDA...If she does, Simone will provide the appropriate counsel. I'll inform her...No, she can't say anything."
Legal counsel? Uh-oh. Dropping a multibillion-dollar franchise's quarterback on his face was less funny than before this eavesdropped conversation. Michael hung up with a frown, making me catch my upper lip with my teeth. "About Sam..."
"Never mind him. Mia, you look..." Abby's dark brown eyes traveled over my clenched teeth and furrowed eyebrows. "Tired."
I wasn't surprised by her assessment. Mental and physical exhaustion walked hand-in-hand with me. Some days, getting out of bed deserved a celebration. Not a Sam Pearson celebration. More like an endless nap or a bottomless cup of matcha tea. Or the blue lacy puppy Michael won't let me get. Unlike the life-sucking bookkeeping job, which I still hadn't told Michael about being fired from, I drew motivation from my classes. They opened up a perspective that all other dimensions of my life sorely lacked.
