I know…Which is why I just transferred. Well, THAT and other stupid things…Ugh. I know it’s sad that I only lasted a month, but I couldn’t stand the dreariness, and that professor I was adamant about learning from? Apparently he got this huge book deal before the semester started and is stepping down from teaching for two years so he can finish it.

Please don’t tell me ‘I told you so’…

Regretting things,

Arizona

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

I fucking told you so.

Sincerely,

Carter

PS—What school are you transferring to?

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

Reeves University. Seven minutes away from your precious South Beach University.

I’m actually here right now unpacking. God, I missed the beach!

Will call you when I get more done.

Arizona

Subject: Re: Re: Re: Re: Re: Scheduling Time.

No need. I’ll come help you. Send me your address.

Sincerely,

Carter

I wrote a “something came up” on a napkin for my “future best friend,” and headed straight to the address Ari texted me. It was exactly seven minutes like she said, and just like my dorm, it was steps away from the beach. Unlike my dorm though, where everyone had a roommate, it seemed as if all the suites in Ari’s dorm were singles.

I didn’t bother knocking on her already open door. “Ari?”

“I’m back here!” She yelled.

I stepped past the closet and saw her folding clothes on the bed.

“Why didn’t you tell me you were here? I would’ve helped you move your stuff.” I asked.

“Because the week I made my decision, you were on ESPN’s college channel with your team-mates talking about how explosive a season this was going to be, how many intensive practices you were looking forward to. I figured you’d be busy. No practice today?”

“No.” I looked around her room. “I just had a date.”

“How’d it go?”

“If I’m here talking to you, how do you think it went?”

She threw a pillow at my face. “Nice seeing you again, too! You want to make yourself useful and actually help me unpack? Could you unload all my books?”

“Sure.” I opened the labeled box and started sorting them. “Within the entire month that you wasted in Pittsburgh, did you do anything worth talking about?”

For the next few hours, we caught up on all the little details that’d slipped through emails and text messages, all the insignificant things that were now seemingly important. And by the end of the night, we’d almost unpacked most of her things.

“Are there any good places to eat on campus?” she asked, yawning. “If not, would you mind driving back to our neighborhood so we can eat at Sam’s?”

“There’s actually this place called Gayle’s I think you’ll like.”

“Gayle’s? It sounds like an old fashioned diner...”

“It is, but the food is perfect. They serve just as many flavors of yogurt as they do of ice cream, and their waffles are ten times better than Sam’s.”

“I refuse to believe that…Do they have a candy bar?”

“They do.”

“What about breakfast at all hours of the day?”

“Definitely.”

“Okay, fine.” She smiled. “I’m sold, but if I don’t like it, you have to pay.”

“I was going to pay anyway…” I pulled out my car keys. “Let’s go.”

Minutes later, we were seated in a booth at Gayle’s—arguing over stupid things like old times and looking over the extensive dessert menu.

“So, is this why you’ve been turning down every girl that approaches you in here, Carter?” The only waitress I’d ever seen in this place stepped in front of us. “Is this your girlfriend?”

“Ha! Never.” Ari laughed. “I’m Arizona. His best friend.”

“Since fifth grade,” I said.

“Fourth grade, Carter.” Ari countered. “It was fourth grade.”

“No, I couldn’t stand you in fourth grade.”

“Well, I personally can’t stand you sometimes now, but it still counts as us being friends doesn’t it?”

“Best friends, huh?” The waitress rolled her eyes. “Okay…I’ll buy that for now…What do you want to order?”

“A Belgian waffle with vanilla yogurt and strawberries—with a sprinkle of chocolate chips,” Ari said.

“A waffle tower with chocolate yogurt, peanut butter, and a sprinkle of Oreo chips and candy on the side” I said, waiting for her to walk away. “For the record Ari, just so we’re clear, it was definitely fifth grade.”

“Are you really going to start an argument with me over this?” She crossed her arms. “Do you really think I’ll ever let you win this? It was fourth grade, Carter. Fourth. Grade.”

“I’ve got all night…”

Track 22. Two is Better than One (3:58)

Subject: Landed

In France. Talk to you soon.

Arizona.

PS—I have my international minutes but no adapter to charge my phone. Sigh. I’ll call you after I figure out where to buy one…

Subject: Re: Landed

Glad you had a safe flight.

Sincerely,

Carter

PS—Looking forward to talking.

She never called.

Never emailed, either.

It’d been three weeks since our last email exchange, three weeks since I last kissed her lips, and life without her at home was taking a lot more time to get used to than I’d originally anticipated. Our usual weekends together at the beach became moments alone for me to study. Our emails about the little things became nothing at all. And instead of buying her breakfast at Gayle’s all the time, I was buying it for our own waitress who, ironically, had never eaten the diner’s food.

I was waking up every morning—reaching for her, rolling over in bed at night to pull her closer, but she was never there. That ache in my chest from the day at the airport intensified each day she didn’t call, and a part of me was starting to wonder if I’d said the right thing at all…

I checked my email and physical mailbox incessantly, hoping to hear something—anything, and after not being able to take it anymore, I decided to pen my letter first…

Three Weeks Gone

Dear Arizona,

I haven’t heard from you since you landed, so I hope you don’t mind that I’m writing you first. I’m not sure when exactly you’ll get this, and since it’s been a while since I actually wrote one of these by hand, I’ll try to do my best…

Law school will be starting in a month, and you’ll be proud (and slightly shocked, I’m sure) to know that I completed all of the required reading and turned in all of the required reports already. Josh has yet to start reading the first book, but he’s assured me that he’ll get it done somehow…

Since you’re not here, I’ve been treating our usual waitress to Gayle’s instead. How ironic is it that she’s never eaten there/never really wanted to? She’s hooked now, though. She’s also told me that the owner is considering renovating the place to make it bigger for the onslaught of tourists. If he does, I’ll send you pictures.