Gold Digger – Story 35 – WHAT DO I DO
I texted Adam at 9:47am.
So sorry – fell asleep with my phone on silent. Can’t today, girls thing. Tomorrow?
Sent it.
Put the phone face down.
Stood in my kitchen for a moment.
Then I called Sara.
Not because I had a plan.
Because I needed to be somewhere that wasn’t my flat with D’s mug in the sink and his jacket smell still in the hallway and Adam’s of course, tomorrow x sitting in my phone like a small kind knife.
Sara’s kitchen.
Obviously.
Always Sara’s kitchen.
They arrived within the hour.
All three.
Sara with wine even though it was morning because she took one look at my face and went back for the wine.
Claire in the coat.
Zoya still in last night’s makeup which meant she’d come directly from somewhere she wasn’t going to explain right now.
I sat down.
They sat down.
Nobody said anything.
Then I told them.
All of it.
The rain.
The door.
D soaked in my hallway.
His clothes on the floor.
Adam’s three messages.
The missed call.
Goodnight x.
D’s arm around my waist in the morning.
You don’t get to do this with a spreadsheet.
Stop pretending you don’t know.
I’m not going anywhere.
Seven messages after six weeks of silence.
All the same day.
All of them D.
By the end Sara’s hand was on mine.
Zoya had stopped pretending she wasn’t crying.
Claire had not moved or spoken for eleven minutes which was the longest Claire had ever been silent in my presence and felt approximately as alarming as everything else.
“Okay,” Claire said finally.
We all looked at her.
“Adam.”
She said it the way she says things she’s already filed.
“Good man. Right columns. Chose you consistently.”
“I know,” I said.
“D.”
She turned her coffee cup.
“Has been in every room of your life for longer than anyone should be by accident.”
“I know.”
“Including last night.”
“I know, Claire.”
Silence.
“Those are different problems,” she said.
“Which one do you want to solve.”
Zoya leaned forward.
“Can I say the thing?”
“No,” I said.
“I’m going to say the thing.”
“Zoya -“
“The key.”
Silence.
“The hoodie.”
“Zoya.”
“The emergency contact.”
She pointed at me.
“How many exhibits do you need?”
The kitchen went quiet.
“You’ve known for a long time.”
I opened my mouth.
She held up her hand.
“You just keep finding new ways not to call it what it is.”
Sara hadn’t said anything for a while.
That’s how Sara operates.
She waits.
Then she says the one thing.
She looked at me.
“What do you want, Mila?”
Not what does the spreadsheet say.
Not what does Adam deserve.
Not what does D need.
What do you want.
I looked at the three of them.
Sara who has known me since I was seven.
Claire who knows the system better than I do.
Zoya who has been saying the thing out loud since before I was ready to hear it.
I opened my mouth.
Closed it.
Here’s where I am.
D’s mug is in my sink.
Adam’s tomorrow x is on my phone.
The key is in my coat pocket.
The row still doesn’t exist.
And I have run completely out of spreadsheet.
So I’m asking you.
You’ve been here since the beginning.
You’ve seen all of it.
What do I do?
Spreadsheet status:
Adam → tomorrow x. he doesn’t know.
D → seven messages. same day. I’m not going anywhere. the key is in my coat pocket.
The spreadsheet has nothing useful to say. I’m asking. – Mila