Moore to Lose (25 page)

“Really? You like it?” Michael pushed her curls from her eyes.

Mia nodded. Reaching out, she put her hand on his cheek, brushing it with her thumb. “How long have you had this planned?”

“New Year’s Eve 2000,” his smile was contagious.

“No, seriously.”

Michael laid his face in Mia’s hand. “Seriously. New Year’s Eve 2000. I knew when you walked out into the garden that I wanted to spend my life making you happy.”

Tears fell freely down Mia’s cheeks at those words. Michael Portman’s sweet love and affection did make her happy. She knew on New Year’s Eve 2000 that he was a special man, a very special man. And in the thirteen and a half months that had passed, Mia learned how very special he truly was.

Lifting his champagne glass in a toast to her, “Here’s looking at you, Kid.”

Mia smiled and hoped that her and Michael’s story would have a happier ending than Rick and Ilsa’s.

Mia was on the phone when Michael let himself into her apartment. She waved and smiled as he put down his briefcase and took off his overcoat, scarf and suit jacket.

He was loosening his tie as Mia said, “Ok, I’ll tell him. Love you too, Mom.”

Smiling at her as she hung up the phone, “So, what did Lois have to say? Has she picked out a date for us yet?” Michael was chuckling at the thought.

Mia stood there with a tense expression on her face.

“Did you tell her we got engaged?”

“No.” Mia closed her eyes.

“Wow. What’s going on? Why haven’t you told your parents yet?” Mia could see and feel the tension eclipse in Michael’s eyes.

Walking over to the couch and sitting down, Mia reached out a hand to Michael to come sit next to her.

“What’s going on, Mia.”

Looking down for a moment to collect her thoughts, Mia took a deep breath and slowly blew it out. “I am really happy with the way things have been between us — with the way things are. I love what we have, Michael. I do,” looking earnestly into his eyes, “but I don’t know that I want to be married.”

“Are you afraid? Overwhelmed? Tell me what you’re feeling.”

“I feel like I’m choking.”

Michael’s eyebrows knit together, “You feel that I’m smothering you?”

“No. And that’s kind of the whole point. I think what we have is perfect. I wouldn’t change a thing about it.” Seeing the hurt on his face as he was trying to understand her position was painful for Mia to watch. She was hurting him. And that was devastating and she knew in her gut that by the time this conversation was over, they would both be decimated. The train had left the station and there was no turning back now as it sped towards its wreckage.

“I thought we wanted the same things — to build a life together, a family. Did I dream this whole thing?”

“I do want a life together,” Mia nervously played with the fringes on a burgundy Scalamandré throw pillow. “Honestly, I’m not ready to think about a family and I don’t know how I’ll feel in the future. I like kids and I think that someday I might like to have a family, but I think I’d also be ok if I never had kids.”

Mia watched as Michael absorbed her words. He looked as if he’d been sucker punched. “So, are you telling me you don’t want to be engaged?” and before she could answer, “Or are you telling me that you don’t want to be engaged to me?”

Taking his hand in both of hers, “I don’t want to promise you what I don’t know if I’m capable of giving you.”

Shaking his head in disbelief, “Capable or just don’t want to?”

Mia looked down. She wished she had the answers to why just the thought of committing to this wonderful man, a man she loved and loved being with, caused her stomach to knot.

“Wow.” Michael ran a hand through his hair. He’d just been blown out of the water. “Well Mia, I know what I want. I want to be married. I want a family. I want to coach our kids’ sports teams. I want to take them on family vacations and make memories that we talk about for years. And I want to do that with you. But if you don’t want to do that with me, there is no point in either of us wasting each other’s time any longer.”

Disengaging his hand from Mia’s, he stood and walked out of the room. Mia sat there. Stunned. She had not been prepared for the course the conversation had taken. Both she and Michael had blindsided each other.

Coming back into the room with a packed duffle bag, Michael said, “I think I’ve got everything. If there’s anything I’ve forgotten, just toss it.” Picking up his suit jacket off the chair, he put it on.

“Michael,” she could feel the panic beginning to rise. The anchor was being reeled in.

“What, Mia?” His tone was a clipped blend of hurt and anger.

“I don’t want … ”

“What don’t you want? What do you want? Do you have any idea?” Anger springing from hurt was becoming the victorious emotion.

“I don’t want this to be it. I don’t want us to end.” She could no longer hold back the tears.

“Well, this is it.” Despite the anger in his words, she could see the pain in his eyes.

“Ok then,” and she slipped the ring off her finger. Walking to him, she took his hand, placing the ring in his palm and closing his fingers over it.

“This is yours.”

“Don’t be gallant. If I can’t keep up my end of the promise it doesn’t belong with me.”

Nodding, he turned and walked out of her apartment without another word.

Mia stood for a long time staring at the door. Hoping to hear a knock, wanting desperately for him to come back through that door with a solution. But there was no solution. What he wanted she couldn’t give him, and she knew that he was right to break it off and walk away. He needed to find someone who would give him everything he wanted. Everything he deserved. And she hated herself for not being the one.

Crawling into bed with her clothes on, Mia could not shake one thing that Michael had said to her. Was she not capable of successfully committing in a relationship or did she just not want to commit to him? And if it was the latter, what the hell was wrong with her?

Another shitty spring, Mia mused nightly, as she walked home from work at ungodly hours. The Trade Centers seemed to follow her like stalkers, always there, and she could not help but look at them and try to figure out if Michael’s light was still on. Was he burying himself in work the way she was? Or had he found someone really great who could love him back the way he deserved to be loved?

In the mornings, the stalkers were still there and as she walked to work, she couldn’t help but wonder if he was at his desk already wrapping up with the traders overseas or in the gym working out.

Telling Lois of their breakup had been painful and Mia felt as if she’d dealt her mother the ultimate disappointing blow and yes, she was the ultimate in disappointing daughters.

Even Seth had expressed disappointment, “BBC, White Bread treats you like a queen. This past year is the happiest I’ve ever seen you since the day we met. He gives you a big, gorgeous rock and you dump him. Your mother is right, you know. You’re going to be a Spinster BBC.”

Mia’s response, “Have I told you to go fuck yourself lately, Princess.”

“I would if I could and then you’d never see my chic ass at work.”

It had been over two months and there had been no contact between her and Michael. Charles had been in Spain for much of that time putting a security team together for a modeling agency out of Barcelona, which had limited most of their contact to emails. Although she missed him and their almost daily calls, Mia was glad that Charles was out of the country so that he didn’t feel like he was in the middle of something between two close friends. Had he been in town, Mia feared she would have been pumping him for info about Michael and that would have put a strain on their friendship.

It was a Tuesday morning and Mia was reviewing campaigns prior to the weekly Tuesday afternoon staff meeting when she heard Seth talking a little too loudly, “Yeah, well good luck with that.”

Mia looked up as Charles Sloan was entering her office. He closed the door behind him and came and sat down across from her.

Surprised, Mia greeted him. “Hey, you’re back. How are you? Were you in the neighborhood?”

Shaking his head no, “You look like shit. I’m surprised Seth lets you get away with looking like that. When was the last time you ate or slept?”

“This morning and last night. And by the way, welcome home.” Mia wondered why the hostile vibe.

“Mia, I have not seen you look this shitty since,” he stopped to think, “years ago when that asshole drug dealer was living down the hall from you and you were going through a very messed up stage in your life.”

“Thanks, Charles. It’s great to see you too. Ok, so I’m sure you didn’t come here to tell me what an abomination I am.”

“I saw Michael last night, and with the exception that he is actually still combing his hair, he looked mighty similar to you. He’s dropped weight, dark circles under his eyes. He’s pretty fucking miserable, Mia.”

Sitting back in her chair and crossing her arms over her chest, “I’m sorry to hear that, Charles. I really am. I don’t like the thought of Michael hurting. I really don’t.”

“So, what’s the story Mia? You just don’t love him?”

“That’s not true. I do love him, Charles. I do.”

“Are you not in love with him?” Charles was in no nonsense mode and Mia was beginning to feel as if she was being cross-examined.

“I think if you’re going to marry someone you ought to be crazy in love with them.”

“And you weren’t crazy in love with Michael?”

Mia shook her head. “Not as crazy as I should have been.”

Charles shook his head, “Crazy is right,” he muttered. Getting out of his chair, he came around to Mia’s side of the desk, “Come with me.” He took her by the arm.

“Where are we going?” Mia was about to protest.

Opening the door to her office and walking her out, Charles headed through the office and pulled Mia into the Ladies Room.

Turning her to face the mirror as he stood behind her. “Take a good look. Have you looked at yourself recently?”

Mia remained silent and Charles went on, “So, what is it you are looking for? Another guy to treat you like shit? Play on your vulnerabilities and take advantage of you? Cheat on you? Are those the kind of guys you fall crazy in love with Mia?”

“That’s not fair, Charles.” She shook her shoulders loose from his grasp and his hands were right back on them, holding her in place and not letting her turn away from the disturbing vision in the mirror.

“What’s not fair is seeing two of my closest friends totally miserable apart when together they make one another very happy. What isn’t fair is seeing the two of you with dark circles under your eyes, both looking like shit because neither of you eat or sleep and you are both burying yourselves in your work. What’s not fair is seeing two people I love making the biggest fucking mistake of their lives.”

“Are you done?” Mia was seething.

“No. As a matter of fact, I am not done. Can you tell me your life is better without him?” Charles looked into her eyes in the mirror. “And I’m not just picking on you, Mia. I asked him the same question. But here’s the thing that is running through my head with you. Do you remember an old Supertramp song called “
Hide in Your Shell
” — because you really need to go home and listen to the lyrics. There’s a line in the song and it is just so you, Mia.”

“And what line is that, Charles? Please do go ahead and tell me, I’m just dying to know.”

His eyes locked on hers in the mirror, “
What do you need? A second hand movie star to tend you?”
^ix

Mia stood silently. Her eyes remained engaged with his in the mirror. Charles Sloan had just sucker punched her.

Leaning forward, he whispered in her ear, “I really do want you to be happy, Meezie.”

And with that, he released her shoulders and left the bathroom, leaving Mia to stand alone under the harsh florescent lights and observe her drawn reflection in the mirror as she let his words sink in.

Two nights later, curled up on her couch with a bag of pretzel sticks and the remote, Mia began to flip through stations. Partly heeding Charles’ advice, it was only 8 P.M. and Mia was home and relaxing.
Whose Line Is It Anyway?, Survivor Africa, Family Guy, Friends.
Mia started to peruse the cable channels for an alternative. And there it was. She laughed out loud and said, “You just can’t make this shit up.”

The moment she heard the first strains of the Max Steiner score and saw the vintage map of Africa, she knew exactly how her next two hours would be spent, watching Casablanca. Tissues in hand, the story that always tore at her heart was now carving it up as if it had been their Thanksgiving turkey last year. As her resolve was diminishing and the volume of Charles’ words escalated in her head, Ingrid Bergman’s arm knocked over a champagne coupe, identical to the coupes Seth had procured for the Millennium Party. Bergman’s Ilsa begged Humphrey Bogart’s Rick to kiss her as if it were for the last time. The champagne spilling from the coupe and dripping to the floor was the lynchpin. Only in the garden on Millennium New Year’s Eve, it had spilled all over her. “Do I need a bigger sign,” thought Mia.

Reaching for her cell phone, she pressed send on a number she had never deleted.

“Hi.”

“Hi.”

“How are you?” The concern in his voice was genuine.

“I suck.” Mia silently dabbed at the tears running from her eyes. Tears she was telling herself were being shed for Rick Blaine and Ilsa Lund.

“I suck, too,” he laughed at her choice of words.

“Charles told me that you look like shit. He said I looked like shit, too.”

“When did you see Charles?”

“He came to my office on Tuesday morning.”

Michael laughed, “Well, he didn’t waste much time. I saw him for dinner on Monday night.”

Mia didn’t want to make small talk. “Are we better apart, Michael?” He didn’t answer, so Mia continued, “I don’t want to be apart.”

“I don’t want to be apart either,” his voice was little more than a whisper.