Expiration Dating

This work is entirely a work of fiction. All name, characters and events are works of the author’s imagination. Any resemblance to actual people, places, or events is coincidence. This ebook is licensed for your personal enjoyment only. No part of this book may be reproduced in any form without the express permission from the author. Thank you for respecting the hard work of this author.

Expiration Dating by G.T. Marie

Published by: G.T. Marie

This book is dedicated to the amazing, lifelong friends I met while studying abroad; my beautiful roommates and girlfriends as well as my now boyfriend. I couldn’t have made it without you. Thanks for giving me plenty of laughs and lines to use. I love you all!

Chapter One

              “OH GOD!”

That’s not what I said.

It’s what the mousy-haired girl bobbing up and down on my boyfriend yelled, the naked pair intertwined on the couch. Her pony tail bounced up and down, up and down, thin strands of hair flouncing about in circles.

I couldn’t stop staring. My gaze was transfixed on her hairpiece.
A scrunchie?

“
Oh, god,” I said.

“Oh,
God
,” he blurted, noticing my presence in the doorway.

We
stared at one another, the two of them panting while my mouth hung open as if its hinge was broken.

“Jinx?” the girl
asked, not bothering to cover herself.

I
started to stomp across the
Welcome
mat I’d bought him as a gift. My now ex- boyfriend called after me. “Dana?”

I whipped around, lifting my finger and pointing at t
he brown-haired bimbo’s head.

“A scrunchie
, Anton?” I asked.

I
slammed the door.

As I huffed down the hallway,
the temperature of my blood dropped with every beat of my heart. By the time I pushed open the front door, my insides were frigid, any emotions frozen solid, caught somewhere below my ribcage and my navel.

I doubled over on the sidewalk and heaved, but my dinner wouldn’t come up. Probably because I hadn’t eaten yet, seei
ng as I was supposed to go out tonight with Anton.

I slipped my cell phone
out and dialed a number. A disconnected tone shouted rejection in my ear. Looking at the phone, I realized I’d punched three digits out of seven incorrectly.

I forced my breathing to slow and redialed.
My nails clicked against the screen’s surface.

“Can you meet me?” I asked, hanging up before the voice on the other end could utter a phrase.

The call ended just in time; my lunch appeared like magic next to the dumpster planted outside Anton’s apartment.

“Sorry,” I mumbled
to the homeless man occupying the ground next to the metal bin. He flicked me off, distraught I’d soiled his home.

Chapter Two

“
Dana, there’s no rush for these things.” Nikki grabbed my hand. “He wasn’t the right one.”

Tess, my second best friend, leaned close to clean up my
ugly cry face
. Her curls danced in the dimly lit bar, the subdued ambiance giving the impression that it was much later than three in the afternoon. 

“It’s five o’clock somewhere,”
Tess said to the semi-cute bartender. With a wink, she flicked her credit card on the counter. We’d been gulping wine for the past two hours, but she spared him that detail.

Nikki
set her trapper-keeper under the barstool, “It’s technically nine at night in Italy. I don’t think there’s anything wrong with getting ahead of schedule on the time change.”

“
Yeah, you’ll avoid jet lag.” Tess didn’t look up as she applied lip gloss.

I looked up as
Sasha whooshed through the door, her flowing skirt tickling the tops of her feet, clad in open toed sandals.

“You know it’s about six degre
es outside right now,” I said.

“I went to hot yoga after the hospital,” she
answered.

Sasha
interned in the Intensive Care Burn Unit at one of the most prestigious hospitals in the area. Tess signaled for another glass of wine.

The
four of us stood in silence and sipped. A bit dizzy after our liquid lunch, I tried not to wobble as we shuffled to secure a private table in the rear of The Library. It was the local college hangout that accepted our fake IDs with a convenient blind eye. The place sat empty since it was winter break, except for a couple of nerds playing darts off to the side.

“I can’t believe you won’t be here for
Trivia nights. I can’t eat a whole jar of salsa by myself.” Nikki blinked her eyes in rapid succession, and I could see the moisture pooling. I felt my own eyeballs start to sting.

“Don’t start,” I
warned.

“And waffle Saturdays, done,” she continued.

“I’m not going, I’m can’t leave.” I finished my beverage, my pinkish chapstick residue visible on the lip of my glass.

Sasha
turned her large, penetrating eyes on me. “Do you
not
want to go?”

“I don’t know how you always manage to turn my words around,” I said, smearing the imprint on the cup with my thumb. “Yes, of course I want to go.”

“Then go
,” she said.

“It’s not that simple
.” I glanced to Nikki and Tess for relief, but they knew better than to butt in when Sasha gave advice.

“It’s something you need to do, so do it. We’ll still be here when you get back
, doing our same ol’ thing. Plus, it’ll be good for you to get away,” Sasha said.

“Easy for you to say
.” I wiped my now sticky thumb onto my jeans.

How
could she know?
She saved lives on a daily basis, obviously she was already fulfilled
.
She didn’t have to go around looking for
it
like the rest of us.

“I got something for you
.” Tess pulled out a lumpy package. “Open it.”

I looked down at an ill-wrapped
disposable camera. There were instructions attached, handwritten on a napkin.

“You need to read the card,”
Tess said, grabbing the flimsy paper from my hands.

“I know,
I was getting to that,” I grumbled, yanking it back.

“Read it
now
.”

“I,
Tess Archie, hereby order you…
blank
.” I looked up from the napkin disguised as a card. “You know my name. You didn’t even fill out my name?”

“Keep reading.
” Tess pushed back her hair.

“Order you to take a picture of every Italian man you make out with on this camera,” I paused again. “
Tess, I don’t think anybody even develops this sort of film anymore.”

“Sure they do, I g
ot it on sale. It’s a mega-roll; forty-two photos!”

“Wow, I didn’t know they made
old school rolls with that many pictures,” Sasha marveled.

“You guys, I’m reading here,” I
mock-glared around the table. “You must finish this roll by the time you return, and you
will
be judged on the quality upon development. Enclosed is an example of acceptable prospects, as well as those that ‘don’t count.’ ”

I set the card on the table. “That’s all it says, there’s nothing else here.”

“Oh, yeah, I forgot to print them out. Here, they’re on my phone,” Tess slid her finger across a variety of images of men in different stages of undress, deeming which were
acceptable
and which were
no good
. 

“See this guy? I think his six p
ack is sprayed on. No good,” Tess said. “This one, wow-ee. I would lick those abs.”

“
Tess,” I started.

“No go – too much hair product,” she interrupted, tapping the screen where a man lay on a couch with hair dyed with
what could only have been shoe polish. Her nails clicked against the screen. “This guy; if you find him- marry him immediately.”

We all murmured in agreement at the Gucci model enveloping her iPhone screen.

“This guy…” Tess trailed off as a picture of a man the size of a house, complete with more rolls than a pastry truck flashed on the screen.

I snorted. “
Tess, you have nothing to worry about. I promise you I’ll settle for no less than a tall, dark and handsome underwear model.”

Tess
set her phone on the table and eyed me.

              I was half-kidding. She was absolutely serious.

We chattered on for another hour
; Tess agonized over her latest crush, Nikki dished out advice and Sasha surprised us with an insightful comment here and there. They tried to distract me from the unfortunate incident of finding my boyfriend having sex with a stranger less than two hours before.

The kicker was that we hadn’t even had sex yet
. I had dated Anton for three months, telling him I wanted to take it slow. He seemed to agree, and things had progressed so well that I’d felt ready. I’d driven to his house to tell him I wanted to hand over my v-card, only to find him on the couch with someone else.
No wonder he’d been so patient
.

As the
dimness of the bar became lighter than the darkness outside, I settled up my tab, writing Tess’ phone number on the bill in the tip line as she requested.

“
Sasha, do you think you could drive me home?” I asked.

“Sure, I’m dropping the other girls off first. Get in.” She ushered us to her incense scented car. When we arrived at
Nikki and Tess’ apartment, I squeezed them and kissed both friends on the cheek. Sasha pulled me away after a few moments, and we were quiet until she dropped me off at my parents’ doorstep.

“Follow your dreams, Dana,” she said.

I resisted the urge to roll my eyes.
I hate when she does this
. I generally tried to ignore my hard-to-handle emotions; they were easier to deal with buried beneath a layer of ignorance, but Sasha had an uncanny way of making them surface.

“I’ll miss you, Shell.”

“Do what you need to do.” She inched out of the driveway, slower than a grandma on a scooter at the grocery store.

I opened the door
. My family was already elbow-deep in dinner. My mom looked up, but refused to make eye contact.

“Sorry, honey. We were going to wait for you
, but the food was getting cold.”

“But, it’s
my
good bye dinner.” I shut the door with a thunk.

“Yes, but…” She gestured to the table where my two younger sisters sat with their boyfriends. My dad hadn’t stopped filling his plate and my Aunt
Annette was pouring herself a glass of wine. I was sure it wasn’t her first of the evening.

“Alright, alright.” I
plunked myself at the table and loaded a pile of lasagna to my plate. I bit into the crunchy outer layer and let the food fall from my mouth. My mom pursed her lips and shot me a disapproving gaze.

“It’s frozen!” I said.

“I’m trying to prepare you for Italian cuisine with this homemade lasagna, and all you do is complain.”

The store-
bought box peeked out of the recycling bin. I managed to choke down the icy meat layer.

“I appreciate it.” I swallowed with a grimace.

My family ate in silence; I gnawed on the half frozen entrée, dodging expectant glances from my mom.

“It’s okay, I won’t go broke
, I promise. I won’t talk to strangers, and I won’t fall for the tourist traps you read about in the magazines.”

“But,” my mom started.

“Mom, I really want to go to Italy. It’s important for me, and I don’t know when I’ll get the chance to go again. My scholarship is paying for all of my costs except food. There is no other time in my life I’ll be able to live in Milan for free, for six months.”

“You just don’t have a tendency to think things through, and I want you to be safe.”

I set my fork down. The table was quiet except for my dad’s chewing.

“I know, Mom. I’m going to miss you guys, but it’s not like I won’t have help
, and I’m not a total idiot. There are people that speak English in my program, and I’ll be living with other Americans. I didn’t make up my mind last minute.”

“You’re sure
you’ll still graduate on time?”

“Of course,
Mom, people study abroad for a semester all the time.” I glanced at my Aunt Annette’s rosy cheeks. “I worked hard for the scholarship, and I think I deserve to use it.”

“Just bring back a nice Italian boy,”
Annette said.

I grinned.
“Absolutely.”

As we finished
dinner and began piling dishes in the sink, my eighteen-year-old sister’s boyfriend tapped me on the shoulder.

“W
hy did you pick Italy?” His naive blue eyes were wide; he’d never left the Midwest. I think he might have gone to Wisconsin Dells once for a vacation.

Standing tall, straightening my shoulders I told everyone
, “Because I want to go and discover my roots.”

Annette
clinked her wine glass with my seven-up bottle. The kid blinked and went back to staring at his hands.

I wiped another plate.

I felt like a hypocrite; my cultural knowledge came from the fact I enjoyed eating large portions of non-microwaveable pasta at Christmas, thanks to Aunt Annette’s cooking. She wasn’t even really my aunt, but when your family’s as large as mine everyone becomes Auntie This or Uncle That.

“Hey
, Annette, wanna give me a hand?”

She handed me her glass for a vino refill.

“What I mean, is do you know any words that would be handy in Italy?”

Annette
’s eyes twinkled, and she touched her wrinkled face in thought. She then spewed a string of the most vulgar sounding phrases I’d ever heard.

“I’m not sure you can say those things at school,” I said.

“Well, I didn’t mean for you to use them in class.” She winked.

“Just out of
curiosity, what’s the translation for that last word?”

Annette
gave a conspiratorial laugh. “It means cucumber, but doesn’t it sound a whole lot worse?”

I lay spread eagle on the floor of my room, staring at an empty suitcase and thinking about my Mom’s conversation at dinner. She hadn’t been thrilled with the idea of me going abroad at first. However, I had to admit that she’d been supportive the past few days. It turns out she was only looking out for my best interests, especially as I don’t have the best track record of making smart choices.

I
fingered the slip of paper I’d scribbled on months before, trying to prolong the excruciating task of filling my suitcase. My list read:
Current Pros of My Life (aka Stay in No-where-ville, Minnesota)

I’ll come back to this.

Cons of My Life

-No social life

-No time to have fun (Do study groups count as
getting out?)

-Haven’t had a boyfriend since High School (Could be a ‘pro’ depending on day)

I stopped and sighed. The last point was now moot. Anton and I had started dating the day after I’d turned in my papers to go to Italy. I’d regretted the decision to go abroad and even debated asking for my money back, just to stay and be with him. He’d been supportive of my choice, though and encouraged me to go. Anton convinced me he’d be around when I got back. Apparently, he’d had other plans.