"You Can't Stay a Saint in This City"

“Happy Thursday, Milan!” I yell as I push through the crowd after spotting him sitting on a bench at Logan International.

Milan yawns “Happy Thanksgiving, Amber”

Oh right Thanksgiving, we don’t really have many holidays on Thursdays up in Canada but that explains the crowds of college students at the airport. “Have you’ve been here for a long time?” I ask as he picks me up and hugs me.

“Not that long, we just got back from Buffalo so I decided to wait at the airport for you.”

“I guess that makes sense,” I say looking at the way his Boston Bruins duffle bag looks next to my Louis Vuitton suitcase.

“Did you see my fight?” Milan asks as he flags down a cab for us.

“Of course I did.” I say as we leave the airport.

Milan smirks “You love it when I fight.”

I glance down at the cuts on his knuckles. “A girl never likes to see her boyfriend get hurt.”

“It didn’t hurt that much.” Of course he’d say something like that.

“I bet it did,” I say holding his right hand in both of mine and admiring the rough texture and collage of cuts from his previous fights.

“I’m glad you’re here Amber,”

“I’m happy to be here, Milan” I say hugging his arm to my chest.
______

Amber fell asleep in the cab so I had to carry her up the stairs and into my apartment. When I dropped her onto the bed I couldn’t help myself so I laid down next to her.

When I wake up I stare at the digital clock which tells me that it’s five in the afternoon and I can hear the faint noise of the television.

“What are you eating?” I ask Amber as she watches TMZ.

“Salad with goat cheese and candied walnuts.” Amber replies stabbing some salad with her fork.

Last I checked all I had in my fridge was a couple cans of beer and a Styrofoam container of left over Chinese food. “Did you go out?”

Amber shrugged “Yeah I walked around and got some groceries. I made extra salad, do you want any?”’

“No thank you,” I say as I take out the box of Chinese stir fry, this isn’t exactly the Thanksgiving spread I’m used to. Last year Brittany’s entire family came and they made a giant turkey with all the fixings.
______

“So how do you know Richards,” Milan asks as pop a candied walnut into my mouth.

“He’s my neighbour, neighbours talk.” I explain “don’t you talk to the people that live in the apartment sides yours?”

“Well no. The people who live next to me are a single dad and his five year old son, we don’t really have a lot in common.” Milan pauses “Before Richards moved in, did you talk to your neighbours?”

“No, but they were always travelling so there wasn’t much talking to do.” I explain as I take my last bite of salad. “So what do you have planned tomorrow?” I ask washing my plate and fork in the sink in the kitchen which is really just on the other side of Milan’s couch. Everything is so compact here kind of like living in a dorm room, in my house sometimes I have to watch the security feeds from different parts of my house on my television just to figure out which room my dogs are is in.

“Um I am planning to kick the ass of your favorite team” Well you haven’t been able to beat them since 2008… “and have you pouting the rest of the day while we look at houses.”

“Houses?” I ask as Mittens strolls into the kitchen. I knew that cat was a bad sign.

“Yeah, I convinced the realtor to show us some homes tomorrow even though it is Black Friday.” Milan says petting the top of Mittens’ head. It always amazes me how gentle he could be with the tiniest of creatures.

“Great,” I reply wondering what Mike is doing over in LA, oh god what if he’s snooping through my stuff.
______

Milan’s asleep next to me but I’m still on Pacific Standard Time. I crawl out of his plain but comfy bed and pull on a random t-shirt from his laundry hamper. I reach into my nag and pull out my Blackberry.

I dial the familiar number and wait for an answer. “Ambrosia?” asks Mike.

“Hey, did you know it was Thanksgiving today?” I ask as I stare down at the empty street below Milan’s apartment. It’s so quiet here, even though I live at the end of a cul-de-sac every time I look down at the city below me it never nearly looks this quiet. No matter the day of the week or the time of day in LA it always seems like everyone is out partying and having more fun than me.

“Yeah, we went to Quick’s and Jackie made us dinner.” Mike replies

“How do you remember?” I ask, I guess not everyone is as oblivious to American holidays.

“Well I used to live in a former capital of the United States so it was a pretty big deal. Anyway Jackie asked about you.”

I’m extremely curious “Really? What did she ask?”

“Nothing just where you were and I said you were breaking up with your boyfriend.” Mike replies and I can hear him chewing an apple or something.

“Well he hasn’t done anything wrong so I don’t think I’m going to be breaking up with him.” If I had one of those stupid phone attachments with the cord I’d be playing with it.

I can practically feel Mike’s smirk from this end of the phone line. “Sometimes it’s not about doing things wrong, it’s about doing something right.”

Forget about me, this is the guy that should really be writing a column in Maxim. “Goodnight, Mike”

“’Night Ambrosia” he says and I smile when I hear him unmute his TV before hanging up on me.