What had happened was…”, Troy began, betraying his Georgia country boy roots. Milla cringed. She was so sick of his antics, excuses, and the way he stressed the accent thinking that it made him seem cute to her.
He was educated at Columbia for Chrissake, and he never slipped in to this backwoods, southern drawl, except when he was in the wrong. Today, he was supposed to come watch her cross the finish line and take her for a celebratory lunch.
Her first marathon. The one she trained the past six months to run. The one that had her counting protein and carb intake daily and sitting in ice baths to relieve leg cramps several times a week.
This all began 3 hours ago, as she sat numbly, head buzzing with dehydration, legs seizing, waiting for the “love of her life” to pick her up. “When I finally leave this narcissistic jerk, I should I start the breakup speech with ‘what had happened was’”, she thought.
The 1st hour, she had not been too concerned about Troy’s absence, he probably just didn’t realise that she would finish so quickly, since today was her personal record; 3:40. Even she was surprised.
After an hour and a half, a runner that she’d briefly conversed with during the marathon came over and asked her, “Hey, do you need a ride home or anything?”. Milla looked at him for a moment. He had a soft easy smile and long, lithe limbs, and looked a little like a Jay Chou with great abs.
She thought about taking him up on the offer, thinking with a smile to herself, “What had happened was…”, but shook it off and told him her ride was almost there.
After 2 and a half hours when Troy still hadn’t responded to her texts or calls, or showed up to retrieve her, she limped to the metro station, stinky and exhausted. Her hunger not satiated by the bananas and Gatorade offered at the finish line; she felt a little like a tiger who had been starving for days and was looking for something to sink her teeth into.
So, walking into the apartment and seeing Troy sitting on his butt drinking a beer with his friend Mike, laughing at an old episode of “The Office” was more than she could take.
He turned to her and said, “Hey babe, can you grab me a beer?” Milla had no words. She just sat there with her mouth open, red clouds confusing her thoughts. He turned to look at her, not even realising the depth of his screw up, and gave her a smile and shrug. She didn’t hear anything after that, just turned and walked into the bedroom, closing and locking the door behind her.
As she peeled off her sport leggings and shirt and turned on the shower, she realised that she was crashing hard from the lack of food. “One thing at a time,” she said to herself, knowing how hard it was to keep a clear head when she was this hungry. Hunger after running 26.2 miles isn’t even normal hunger, and maybe only other long-distance runners understood this, but that did not mean that Troy’s apathy was forgiven.
In fact, she was so tired of being considerate to him. Why couldn’t he consider her just once? Today was supposed to be her big day and she had really tried to infect him with her excitement.
He didn’t have to run with her, just be supportive and proud of her. Show up to cheer her at the finish and take her to lunch. She supported his moronic business ideas even when they had cost her money from her own pocket. She took his side against his family, even though she thought secretly he was being childish and ridiculous.
Milla dried off, dressed, and without bothering to brush her hair or put on makeup, opened the door to go get some pizza.
As she walked past the back of the sofa, Troy piped up, “Hey babe, is that tiramisu still in the fridge?”. She was definitely feeling something short out in her brain, but smiled tightly and said, “Sure, I’ll grab it for you.”
As she pulled a plate down, she was annoyed to notice that the landlord had once again put rat poison directly between the window and counter. One day, they were going to end up with arsenic in their food.
She smiled brightly and handed the two men still staring at the screen the tiramisu. “Thanks, babe”, Troy says, and tried to reach out to grab her hand. She pulled it away and patted him on the shoulder. “I’m headed out now, enjoy the tiramisu!”
Milla walked over to Pizza Hut a few blocks down, and ordered enough food for three. “I can wrap the leftovers up for lunch tomorrow”, she thought. For the next hour, Milla systematically ate everything she ordered; the small chicken BBQ pizza, the fried shrimp appetiser, the mocha milk tea, the cheesecake.
Her stomach was beginning to hurt, and regret was setting in, when she noted the blue lights flashing past the window. She sighed and thought about how many times she told herself not to take any drastic actions when tired or hungry.
When Milla arrived, she walked right past the flashing blue lights and the police officers in the hallway talking to her neighbours and headed to her front door. A long arm reached out and stopped her. “This is a crime scene, do you know someone here?”, said its owner. Milla paled and after staring in his eyes for a minute, finally said, “I live here, me and my husband”.
Then the door to the apartment opened as a paramedic walked out and she saw inside. She saw the medics arranging a white sheet over a figure on a stretcher.
She turned and ran, as tears ran down her face. She really shouldn’t make decisions when she was hungry.
And the landlord should have never left the rat poison on the counter.
A week later…
As she approached the ticketing counter at Lukou Airport, she heard a voice she knew well, saying, “Milla, Milla, talk to me!” Confused, shaking, she turned and faced a ghost. Her face paled. “Troy?”
“Milla, what is happening? Why are you leaving me at a time like this? I needed you. I still need you”, he spat out desperately.
“No, I thought, I mean, you…”, she mumbled.
“My best friend, attacked by a knife-wielding burglar, in broad daylight, dies in my arms. And the person I thought could support me through it disappears into the night”, he cried.
She looked at him with a combination of realisation and sympathy. She considered telling him, “Sorry, of course I’ll come home with you”, but then she considered how she deserved an apology, too, and, anyway, she HAD put rat poison in his tiramisu, only a knife-wielding maniac had saved his life.
She reached into the depths of her soul for a wide smile, and finding it, patted Troy’s hand. “What had happened was…”.
Then, she kissed his cheek and handed her passport to the agent without another glance.
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