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I grip the corners of the table with both hands, not able to believe what I’m hearing.
“Oh, yeah…” Carol waves a hand through the air as if it’s nothing. “So, you know that she quit her job at the beauty shop, right? Apparently, Larisa spoke to Gianluca, they pulled some strings in the movie industry, and she’s going to start working as a freelance makeup artist on movie sets. How amazing is that? Goodness, I envy her so much. Just think about all the money she’s going to make. Meanwhile, I’m stuck in this dump,” Carol says.
“You mean dating me?” I ask her stonily.
She starts to laugh, even though there was nothing funny being said. “No, no, baby … No, that’s not what I meant. You’re a … great guy. Yeah. No. What I meant is that this is a good opportunity for Emmy. You know? To work on movie sets, to make a lot of money, to meet all the famous people. That’s all.”
“I see. And you’re sure she’s moving to Los Angeles?”
“Well, she has to go there, doesn’t she? That’s where all the studios are,” Carol replies simply.
Meanwhile, the idea that I might never see Emmy again starts to dawn on me.
This truly is the end.
Not just of our friendship but of our road together.
Emmy will disappear from my life, and I will never be happy again.
“You look like you’re turning green. Evan, I have to say, when we started dating, I never imagined that you would be so sickly and … depressing.”
“I don’t feel well. Why don’t I take you home, Carol?”
“Okay … will you stay the night with me?”
“I don’t think so.”
She keeps asking and begging, like a spoiled child asking for a toy, all the way to her apartment. I stop the car in front of her building and wait for her to get out.
“Come on … why don’t you come up and … have some coffee?” she asks me.
“It’s very late, Carol. I need to get home.”
“Then let’s watch a movie or something!”
“I don’t think so…”
“Evan, come on! Only for a little while…” She keeps insisting.
“Carol, please. I have to get up early tomorrow morning to be at the hospital. I’ll call you, alright? We need to talk, anyway.”
“Talk? What about?” she asks.
“Tomorrow. It’s late now.”
“Tell me right now.” She pouts.
“Let’s talk tomorrow, alright?”
“Tell! Me! Now!” she raises her voice.
“Okay, fine.” I sigh. “Carol, we’re done.”
“Done? What do you mean, done?”
“I can’t do this anymore. This relationship. We aren’t right for each other. We’re done, okay?”
A moment later, she gets out of my car and slams the door, letting me know that she’s mad at me.
