Leave it All Behind

by S. R. Watson

  I look at the time and it’s only a little after eight. I pull my leftover veal from the refrigerator and heat it up. Surprisingly, Jordan didn’t touch her food either last night and waits for me to finish with the microwave.

  “What? I was waiting until you were ready to eat yours so we could share. I ate cereal last night instead,” she explains. “Do you want to watch Vampire Diaries on the DVR?”

  I am still intoxicated so I know very little attention will be given to the Salvatore bothers, but I agree anyway. Watching television series together has always been our thing. “Sure. Let me take a shower and change into my pajamas.”

  After my shower, we curl up on the sofa with our blankets and leftovers to watch our missed episodes of Vampire Diaries.

  I AM AWAKENED by the sound of Jordan fumbling around with pots and pans in the kitchen. She loves to cook and is actually quite good at it. Me on the other hand, not so much. It’s already nine o’clock and I need to get up. The pounding in my head protests. I will not be drinking again anytime soon. The get-together yesterday was supposed to cheer me up, but instead I’m hung over and even more bummed out.

  “Rise and shine, Shiv,” Jordan sings as she enters my room carrying a breakfast tray. She’s made my favorite: French toast, scrambled eggs, and turkey sausage. She even has orange juice and Tylenol for my headache. “Scoot over. We’re going to have breakfast in bed.”

  “Thanks, Jordan. You’re the very best friend a girl could have. You and a book boyfriend are all I need,” I say jokingly, trying to earn a smile from my friend, although the underlying truth of this makes me sad. Jordan embraces me with a hug and I know she sees through my futile attempts at humor.

  “What are your plans for today?” she asks.

  “I think I will make some soap and then study.” I make handmade natural soap using vegetable oils, butters, and essential oils as a hobby. My grandmother taught me natural soap making when I was growing up. I now make soap as a stress reliever and Jordan loves it. She refuses to use anything else.

  “Great, because my stash is getting low,” she quips. “What scent are you making today?”

  “Chocolate mint.” I know this is her favorite. “I’ll make you a loaf to cut as needed.” She squeals in excitement and informs me she will be leaving shortly to meet Bailey and the girls from yesterday for a day of shopping and dinner.

  TRUE TO MY word, I catch up on my reading for marketing and economic classes. I decide to study first. I was guilty of sorrow-induced procrastination earlier this week. After having my fill of supply and demand curves, along with SWOT analysis, I make a cup of Earl Grey tea and gather my soap supplies. I place my iPhone on the iHome docking station and select my soap making playlist. I crank up the volume, because music is my first love, aiding my much-needed distraction from “my life.” The speakers immediately blare the lyrics of Rock the Casbah by the Solar Twins. I arrange the cocoa butter, organic cocoa powder, peppermint essential oil, sodium hydroxide (lye), and vegetable oils in the order I will mix them. The sodium hydroxide produces fumes so I turn on the air vent located above the stove. After measuring and mixing everything, I put the ingredients in my wooden loaf mold to cure also known as saponify.

  When I’m satisfied my soap batch is thoroughly insulated with the quilts I have wrapped around the mold, I heat a frozen dinner, eat, shower, and call it a night. Today was the first time Liam hasn’t consumed my every thought. My love for music and soap making helps bring me a sense of calm. Okay so maybe my naughty thoughts about the professor helped too. I’m kind of nervous to face him tomorrow after my drunken attempt to feel him up, but I’ll worry about that in the morning.

  MONDAY MORNING ARRIVES and it’s time to put my big girl panties on, figuratively speaking. I am determined to face Professor Michaels like my pride and sanity didn’t take a sabbatical on Saturday. I don’t have the inclination to dress to impress at seven in the morning so boyfriend sweats and tank it is. Victoria’s Secret is my go-to style for casual comfort in contrast with Jordan, who always looks her best with the latest fashion trends. That is a luxury afforded by having money. The two nickels I rub together pay my expenses for daily living. Fashion is my least priority, if it slips through the ranks at all. Jordan’s closet and her assistance with amazing consignment store finds ensure I don’t look like a hobo when we’re out together. Getting out of the shower, I look in the steamed mirror to arrange my messy bun on top of my head before slipping on my flip-flops. When I step into the kitchen, I see she has already left. The only indication that she came home last night is the Earl Grey tea waiting for me in our Keurig machine. Earl Grey is my favorite tea when I don’t have access to Starbuck’s. I smile at her thoughtfulness, grab the mug, and head to class.

  I arrive with ten minutes to spare. There are students standing around outside the locked door waiting for Professor Michaels. I am deep in thought when I hear Liam call my name.

  “Good morning, Shiv,” he says. I don’t want to play the part of the bitter reject so I reply despite my lack of willingness.

  “Morning,” I deadpan.

  When I look up at him, I’m met with glacial stares from the two blondes that flank him. Oh my God, his bimbo entourage has multiplied. It is Heather and Melissa from Friday night. Barbie has a twin. Don’t get me wrong; I have nothing against blondes—seeing as though my best friend belongs to this demographic. If they were redheads, like myself, they would be redheaded bimbos. Bimboism does not discriminate, and from the looks of it, it’s contagious. The two girls’ mannerisms are identical right down to the hyena laugh they share with the rest of us. Liam is not that funny, aarrghh! Our eardrums are saved by the arrival of the professor.

  “Leave everything at the front of the class, with the exception of something to write with,” he instructs. “We are going to take a surprise quiz over your assigned reading from last week.” There is a collective groan from the class. I’m glad I actually read last night.

  After everyone has handed in their multiple-choice quiz, Professor Michaels begins his lecture.

  “Who can identify the ‘O’ from the SWOT analysis and give an example?” I immediately recognize this as one of the questions from the quiz.

  “Miss Gallagher?” he asks.

  Umm … what? “I didn’t raise my hand,” I murmur. What is he doing? I look around the room at all the eager faces and hands that are raised futilely for his attention.

  “Anytime now, Miss Gallagher,” he quips.

  “O is identified in the external environment as opportunities in relation to SWOT analysis. Examples may include the development of new products and services,” I answer finally—not escaping embarrassment.

  “Very good.” He continues on in this fashion with different students until all questions from the quiz are covered, thus providing an indication on how we performed. I got them all right. Who knew that sorrow plus nothing else to do but study as a distraction, equals a good grade?

  When class ends, Liam runs to catch up to me before I leave. “Can we talk?” he asks.

  “Last time we talked it didn’t work out too well,” I answer sarcastically. “Besides, the Mattel twins are waiting for you.”

  “What?” He looks confused at my jab, but then realization crosses his stupid handsome face. “Please don’t worry about Heather and Melissa. I want us to at least be friends. Can I come by later?”

  I know he is feeling guilty about Friday night and is trying to ease his conscience. “Yeah, when hell freezes over,” I spit angrily. He grabs my arm in attempt to keep me from leaving. His entourage is visibly pissed at the scene he is making.

  “Miss Gallagher, I need a word with you about your quiz,” Professor Michaels interrupts.

  Using this moment to escape Liam’s grasp, I rush over to him. Sadness flashes again in his eyes before he heads out the door with the Mattel twins.

  “Are you okay Miss Gallagher?”

  “Fantastic,” I lie.

  “You did great
on the quiz. I didn’t really need to talk to you about it, but you looked like you could use some help getting out of a sticky situation.”

  “Yeah, well thanks.” I turn on my heel and rush out the door before he can pry or worse—bring up Saturday. That would be right. Sinfully gorgeous, taken, and thoughtful. Typical. Well at least he can continue to star in my fantasies. They act nicely to keep the thoughts of Liam away.

  After I attend my other two classes, I’m not in a rush to go home. I look around the campus as smiling students pass me. I find a bench underneath the trees and continue to watch student life, as it should be—fun. Maybe Liam was right. I don’t condone the cheating, but maybe we are too young to make a lifetime commitment to one another. We basically grew up together and have no comparison to what we want in a mate. I followed him blindly thinking he was my future—and our love would survive. I should have learned from my parents’ relationship that ended in divorce. The countless relationships my mother pursued after that always ended the same. The men never stayed. The grass was always greener with someone else eventually.I don’t know how long I have been sitting here watching life pass me by before I get a text from Jordan.

  Jordan: Where r u?

  Me: Leaving now. I had to stop by the library.

  Jordan: Okay see u when u get here. I ordered pizza.

  Me: K

  Okay so I lied, but I needed time alone to think. Jordan has been great and I hate to be the Debbie Downer. I know I have been an emotional mess since the breakup.

  Walking through the door of our condo, I see that Angie and Bailey are visiting. The girls have made margaritas and are in full gossip mode. Angie offers me a drink, but I decline. I am so not going there.

  “Bailey’s birthday is in three weeks and we have decided to all go to Drai’s Hollywood,” Jordan states. “She has reserved VIP access, so there will be no waiting in line to get in.”

  “It’s going to be awesome It’s swanky and classy—a nice change of pace, so we can let our hair down for the night,” Bailey adds.

  “Sounds like fun,” I offer.

  Jordan looks surprised. I know she was expecting to meet resistance from me, but to be truthful; I’m ready to try a different approach to life. I’m ready to be one of those people having fun. I wonder if he will be there. He is her brother. What brother would miss his sister’s birthday celebration? Do I want to see him there? Why? To be rejected again. No thanks. I don’t need another sting like that. The girls discussing the need to buy something special to wear pulls me out my reverie. I’m going to go broke hanging with these girls and their constant need to shop, but it is all part of my plan for the new me.

  THE REST OF the week passes with me ignoring the concerned looks by Professor Michaels and avoiding Liam. Friday, I meet with the girls for some shopping. My goal is to find a scorching, sexy dress that will be an instant self-esteem booster and I find one that will be perfect.

  After a day of shopping, Jordan mentions she and I are heading to Bailey’s house for dinner. Her parents are back and she wants to introduce us. I hope Professor Michaels will not be there, but I keep this thought to myself. When we arrive, Bailey introduces us to her mother, Vivian, and her stepdad, Ben. They insist we call them by their first names and are very welcoming. I can clearly see the similarities passed to Bailey from Vivian and as well as those passed to Professor Michaels from Ben. Their likeness is astounding. Ben is a sexy older version of his son and gives a hint at what he has to look forward to when he gets older. Vivian is a beautiful petite brunette like her daughter, but more poised. We all head to the dinner table; the place setting is impressive. The dining area seats twelve, and when we are seated, I foolishly let myself believe I have dodged the professor bullet. No such luck. He arrives with Vanessa on his arm; she looks stunning as ever in a sheath dress that hugs her like a second skin. Professor Michaels is dressed casually in faded blue jeans and a black fitted tee. He makes casual look effortless and sexy. God, I hate that he is so hot.

  “I am so glad you could make it dear,” Vivian says approvingly. “We would have had to let Grayson have it if he did not bring you to dinner tonight. We need to catch up. Let’s do lunch at the country club this week. I’ll call you with the date and time.”

  “Certainly. I look forward to it,” Vanessa replies.

  I look at Professor Michaels, but he is avoiding eye contact with me. Instead he whispers in Vanessa ear and she rewards him with a slight giggle and light slap to the shoulder. It was probably something sexually related. Jordan is watching the scene and giving me apologetic glances when she thinks nobody is looking.

  “Where are you ladies from?” Ben asks Jordan and me. This question catches Professor Michaels’ attention and he is listening for our response.

  “We are from Houston, Texas,” Jordan responds for us both. “Siobhan and I moved here with another friend so we wouldn’t be alone.”

  “That was quite a big move. How did your parents feel about it?” Vivian counters.

  “My mother supported my college choice and it helped that I would have Jordan and Liam with me,” I provide.

  “My parents felt the same way,” Jordan adds.

  Vivian is quick with sorting through the details. She notices immediately that I have failed to mention my father’s input. “What about your father, Siobhan?”

  “Vivian leave it. Obviously she would have mentioned him if she wanted to,” Professor Michaels speaks up.

  “No, it’s fine. My father is a freelance photographer who travels around the world. We speak occasionally. He sends my mother money toward my education and supported her decision to let me go. He says I take after him because I have an adventurous get-out-and-see-the-world attitude.”

  “That’s wonderful. You mentioned another friend moved here with the two of you—Liam is it? Where is he tonight? I would’ve loved to meet him too,” she responds.

  “Some other time, Vivian.” Professor Michaels nips that line of questioning in the bud and I am thankful. We continue dinner, and the focus is shifted toward Vanessa’s house hunting.

  TODAY IS GOING to be a better day. No more moping over Liam. I repeat this mantra a few more times to convince myself that he is not worthy of my sadness. It is indeed time to move on, especially since he moved on two weeks prior to breaking up with me. I grab my laptop to log onto Facebook. It is an attempt to bring some normalcy back into my life. I enjoy looking at the photos and status updates from friends and family back home. After responding to a couple of posts asking about the time I’m having, which I lie about, I click on Liam’s page. A glutton for punishment is my only explanation. His status change to single is not what makes me see red. He has expunged all traces of us from his page. He doesn’t have a single photo of me.

  Five years are eradicated with a tap of a keystroke. A lone tear slips from my eye and runs down my heated cheek. The saltiness of it pisses me off since I declared he wouldn’t get any more tears from me. Angrily, I click on my photo album and begin to return the sentiment. Jordan picks this moment to come into my room.

  “Good for you,” she says approvingly. “You are ready to move on.”

  I look up at her and she now sees my tear stained face. “I’m just following his lead. He deleted all traces of me first.”

  “He is such a harsh bastard. I would’ve never thought he was capable of being such an ass. I never thought he would be unfaithful either,” she huffs. “Good riddance to that jerk.”

  I laugh because it was okay a second ago when she thought I was the one to initiate the deletion. Leave it to Jordan to have my back. “Yeah … good riddance!” Who says that anymore, but I’ll roll with it.

  “Get your swimsuit, were heading to Venice beach. No moping will be allowed.”

  I don’t protest. I rush to my room to get ready. I put on my white paisley bandeau bikini top with the matching hipkini bottoms. I throw on a pair of my famous jean cut-offs, a loose fitting tank, and my go-to flip-flops. I stray
from my usually messy bun and opt for braided pigtails. Jordan walks in wearing a fire red, barely there string bikini covered by a sheer black tube dress that is meant to be a cover up.

  “Let’s catch some rays, chica.”

  “Are you going to invite the girls?” I secretly want to have some girl time alone with her since it has been a while, but I refuse to make her feel guilty about it.

  “Bailey and Angie are going to join us later this evening, but Meghan has to bartend tonight.” Jordan pulls me in an affectionate hug, and I feel how much she cares for me. It’s always been this way between us. We both read each other well and are in tune with each other’s needs. I am so thankful for her friendship, and I know the feeling is mutual. “Come on. I want to get to the beach before one o’clock so we can find decent parking.”

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