I'd scored tickets to the World Cup match Michael Gilbert loved most.
I rushed over to find him, only to overhear his friend trying to talk him out of something:
"Sandra Jenner pushed back all her work just to watch the game with you, went through all that trouble to grab tickets, and you're still bringing Gretchen Henson instead? That's not right."
Michael exhaled the smoke from his cigarette and said, like it was nothing:
"Watching with her is no fun. I'm used to having Gretchen with me every World Cup."
No fun.
Used to.
Those few words landed like a dozen slaps across the face of the woman who'd spent twelve years at his side.
Three World Cups in those years, and the first two he'd gone with Gretchen.
I'd cried over it. I'd made scenes.
He'd soothed me:
"Gretchen and I are childhood friends, I'm just used to it. Before you came along, it was always her with me. Be good. Next time I'll only go with you, I promise."
I believed him.
Waited four long years.
But this time too, his habits still had no room for me.
I gripped the tickets and laughed.
Then I tore them in half and dropped them in the trash.
So it turned out that for all twelve of those years, from start to finish, I'd been the one running alongside, never the one who counted.
He was right. There really was no fun in it.
——
When Michael came back, he had Gretchen's white cat cradled in his arms.
"Sandra, sorry to ask, but could you look after Gretchen's cat for a while?"
Only after he'd said it did he lift his eyes and see me packing. His expression shifted.
"Stop packing."
"Last month, on Gretchen's birthday, her wish was for me to watch this World Cup with her."
"I already promised her."
His tone was mild, but there wasn't a trace of negotiation in it.
He was simply informing me of the outcome.
I tucked my ID and household registration into the deepest inner pocket of my suitcase.
The registration papers had come from my parents back home half a month ago, for the two of us to file for our marriage license.
We'd agreed to go to the civil affairs bureau on the ninth of next month to register.
Thinking about it now, breaking up was better than divorce.
I didn't even lift my eyes. My voice dropped a few degrees colder:
"Four years ago you promised me you'd watch this one with me too."
"You can't compare the two! Gretchen's an outsider. If I promise her something, I can't go back on it."
His tone hardened despite himself.
Everything in me had died down to a flat, still pool of water. I raised my gaze to him.
"Of the three of us, I'm the outsider."
Michael's face went taut.
"Petty and jealous again?! Can you just stop?!"
"Gretchen and I grew up together. I've told you a thousand times, it's a perfectly pure friendship!"
"And we're getting our license next month! Do you still not trust me?!"
"Sandra, you really wear me out when you act like this!"
He lifted a hand to his forehead.
Every time we fought over Gretchen, he wore that same deeply exhausted look.
My face was cold.
"I'm worn out too."
I added, "You're used to having Gretchen watch with you, so let her."
"I'm not insisting on going with you."
Michael froze for a beat, and seeing that I wasn't pressing on,
he mistook it for me backing down the way I always had, and let out a relieved breath.
"Don't read too much into it. I'll bring you back a gift."
The cat in his arms hopped down and trotted over to my suitcase.
Michael explained, "Gretchen's whole family's away traveling, and my parents don't like cat hair around the house."
"Gretchen hasn't found anyone to watch the cat for now, so sorry to ask, but please look after it for her for a while."
She looked after my man. I looked after her cat.
Ha.
Michael's phone rang.
I could tell from his face that it was Gretchen calling.
Before he headed to the study to take it, he tossed off one last instruction to me:
