Part 1
My head hurt, and for once it wasn’t because I’d been thinking too much. My head hurt because it had been hit with a surprisingly heavy Waterford crystal vase only an hour and a half earlier.
With a groan I sat up and looked around the practically gutted bedroom wishing I’d passed out with a concussion. Maybe then the bitch might have been arrested. “The bitch” was Mikayla, who was now my former fiancé. She broke off the engagement only two hours before…Well I found out only two hours ago.
I’d gotten home early to find her packing whatever she had and what she thought I wouldn’t miss in the apartment we shared.
The bedroom was most affected by the absence of Mikayla’s shit. The open closet was practically empty and same for the dresser. Some of my clothes had been tossed on the floor and once again I had nothing to do with it. I guess she took whatever she had bought for me over the years. I hope she fucking burns it all.
Gingerly I felt at the large knot on the side of my head wondering when Mikayla got that strong and if I’d have been laughed at if I had called the police.
I cussed under my breath as I heard the phone ring from the kitchen and trudged out to answer it.
“Yeah?” I sighed glaring at the two forgotten wheat grass plants sitting happily on the sunny windowsill behind the sink.
“Are you guys still coming over?” Taylor’s clueless but still semi-concerned voice pulled me out of my stupor.
“You know what, Tay? We’re gonna have to reschedule. We’re fighting right now and it’s just giving me a fucking headache.” I half lied.
Taylor was quick to jump in as cheerfully optimistic as ever, “Don’t worry. We’ll have dinner some other time. Just work it out with Mikayla before things get out of hand.”
I raised an eyebrow and looked around at the mostly empty apartment wondering if this was “out of hand.”
“I know. Later, Tay.” I said and hung up before he could reply.
I didn’t want to lie to Taylor. Honestly, I wanted to tell the truth. I really did. It’s just he’s all chivalry and romance. I didn’t want to hear it right then.
I needed someone who would get a case of beer, put on the most violent, manly sport on TV and just talk trash about Mikayla while making sure I got good and drunk until the bruises on my ego had healed. I needed Isaac.
I dialed his cell phone number and rolled my eyes when the voice mail answered. “Hey, man. Mikayla left me. I’ll be there in a week.”
I hung up and sat my phone on the counter so I could open up the window behind the sink. With a smile I picked up one of the wheat grass plants and flung it out the window, watching with fiendish glee as it flew far enough to smash into the brick of the next building and broke apart in almost slow motion before falling to the ground below.
