“No one loves the messenger who brings bad news.”
I’ve been in denial about an upcoming Tragic Event. This year as America celebrates its independence with exploding things and overeating, I’ll be not-celebrating my forced independence…from Venice. Val is done with his degree and they are moving to Kentucky on July 4th. This has been a long time coming, but of course I’ve stuck my metaphoric fingers in my ears and ignored the impending catastrophe.
Last weekend they flew out to Kentucky to scope out the area for his potential job, their potential home, and potential lives. Last night, coming home from work I saw him at their flat door and asked how the trip went. Really well, apparently, because he’s got the job and plans are now in motion.
“I am honestly thrilled for you guys, but you do realize I’m never going to forgive you for taking her away,” I said despondently.
“If it wasn’t for me you’d never have even met!” he reasoned.
Which is true. We used to live in the same apartment complex a few years ago and I got to be friends with him and his flatmates. One day he said, “I think you should meet my girlfriend. You two would get along really well.” The rest is well documented history.
The Val giveth and the Val taketh away.
Peregrine is in D.C., Scarlett is in New York, Angel is in the city, Margot (who just got back from New Zealand) is probably going to head north at some point in the near future. And I’m feeling supremely stuck and left behind. I’m trying really hard to keep perspective. J. and I will be moving back East in a couple of years and Venice (and most of others listed) are already on speed-dial…but I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t devastated.