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

“Morning Mittens, morning Amber.” I say as I rub the sleep from my eyes. Amber is still asleep but wiggles her toes which causes Mittens to pounce on them. I can’t sleep-in today I mean I have a game to play after all. After putting in my contacts I scribble a quick note for Amber on a post it and attach it to her ticket to the game.
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I yawn, and find Mittens hissing at me. “I know you miss your mom, Mittens. I’m sure she’ll be home soon.” I say tumbling out of Milan’s bed; it’s so high off the ground I literally have to jump off of it like one of those hotel beds.

It’s so weird trying to get ready in someone else’s house when they aren’t home like where is everything. The apartment only has a single bathroom so I am in quite a dilemma when I can’t figure out which toothbrush is Milan’s the orange one or the green one. If I chose the wrong one I’ll be sharing teeth germs with…ugh…Brittany.

I look under the sink and sure enough there’s about half a dozen unopened tooth brushes. I choose the purple one and carry on with my morning routine: exfoliating and moisturising my face, putting on my primer and foundation. No eye makeup at hockey games, I wouldn’t want to be thought of as one of those girls who just goes to hockey games to get a boyfriend. But from my experience I’m not even sure they look in the stands. I pull on a pair of white J Brand leather pants and Red Wings jersey that I brought to the tailor’s and had taken in…a lot.

I pound the pavement in my ruby red UGGs trying my best to follow the directions Milan scribbled on the post it. I can’t remember the last time I had to wait for a bus but I guess all the taxi drivers are out scoring Black Friday deals. I take a picture of my outfit to post to my Twitter followers and I honestly look like I’m just short of covering my body in nothing but red and white body paint and being denied entrance by the security guards at TD Garden due to sanitation concerns.

@AmberLi: outfit for the Red Wings-Bruins game today at TD Gardens :D. To all the Bruins fans that are going to be there, my boyfriend would be very sad if I didn’t make it out alive :(.

I admire how close I am cutting it to the word limit as I see a new tweet pop up on the screen of my BlackBerry Mike tweeted.

@MRichie_10: boarding the plane for Chicago.

@AmberLi: @MRichie_10 it was a plane ride from LAX to O’Hare…

I hit send as I board the moderately crowded bus. Barely a minute later the LED on my BlackBerry lights up red with a notification.

@MRichie_10: Seriously, @AmberLi “And what happened next was a series of unfortunate events”

I giggle earning me stares of the strangers on my bus. I mean they could be staring for a multitude of reasons, like how I’m dressed.

@AmberLi: Seriously @MRichie_10! Please stay tuned for what happens next.

The bus stops and everyone wearing a Bruins jersey gets off the bus, I guess that’s all the indication I need that this is where I get off.
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“Milan!” Amber calls. I kind of love that in a sea of unhappy faces she’s grinning from ear to ear. I mean seeing her smile isn’t worth losing over, it just makes losing more bearable.

“Amber, you ready to look at houses?” I ask picking her up, she feels a little bit heavier but nothing worth asking her about which will most likely end in me having to sleep on the couch.

“Sure,” Amber says, she sounds nervous. I guess she has good reason to be, the longest we’ve lived together was that week this summer when she had to because her apartment was being rented out.

“I wasn’t really sure the kind of house you wanted so I basically got the realtor to show us anything he thought you’d like.” I tell her as I drive her to the first stop, the Ritz-Carlton near Chinatown.
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We walk through the houses and they all seem perfect. Perfect for Milan and Brittany. It doesn’t matter if it’s a condo in the Back Bay where I can see Milan hanging his wool coat in the closet after a game or Brittany checking her lipstick in the hall mirror before going out. Even in the Cape Cod style house all Brookline all I could see was the two of them making dinner using the stainless steel appliances in the kitchen or throwing pool parties for the kids in the backyard.

“It’s not for us.” I tell the realtor for what feels like the hundredth time that day.

By the time we get home its late plus Milan is tired from his game, so he falls asleep on the couch while I watch an old episode of Friends.

“Oh,” I say as my phone rings unexpectedly, giving me a welcomed distraction.

“How’s Boston?” Mike asks.

“It’s emptier than I remember.” I say once again as Mitten’s glowing eyes following me around the kitchen.

“Of course it is.” Mike says “Boston’s a total college town.”

Oh right, “I guess,” I reply. “You were right” again “and now I don’t know what to do.”

“What do you mean?” He asks as I pour myself a glass of water.

“He did everything right today.” Everything a boyfriend is supposed to do to show that he’s committed to us. “He tried to find us a place to live together and didn’t get all bitter about losing to the Red Wings.”

“I was not bitter. I just needed a drink.”

“Whatever,” I reply taking a sip of water. “I don’t feel it between us anymore.” I’m not interested in him and his life the way I used to.

“You’re going to have to break up with him and give him back his Stanley Cup ring.” Mike says like some sort of breakup professional. “Or you could just lead him on and on and just abandon him at the altar.”

I groan, imagining a church full of people and me trying to sneak out the back and I get the sinking feeling in my stomach of not finishing something I started. “In between a rock and a hard place.”

“Yup”
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“Morning,” I tell Amber as I watch cut a grapefruit in half.

“Hey, how do you want your eggs?” Amber asks getting three eggs from my fridge.

“Sunny side up.” I reply as I watch Amber crack the eggs into the frying pan surprisingly consummately.

I watch Amber as she makes my eggs and adds a side of turkey bacon “Here you go Milan,” Amber says adding a slice of toast.

“Thanks Amber.”I tell her as I kiss the side of her head.
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I wince as I feel this lips on the side of my head, I don’t feel that wonderful tightness in my stomach of nervous butterflies any for, I feel nothing, I just wonder if there will be any foundation transfer.

“Milan, we…” I catch myself before ‘need to talk’ leaves my lips. “I…” ‘need to get something off my chest’ that just sounds like I’m going to take off my shirt. I sit down and stab a pointed spoon into my grapefruit. “Milan, I don’t think this is working out between us.”

“What, why?” to me it’s been working perfectly, everything is exactly like it was six years ago, we did our own thing and made it work.

“I mean didn’t we both see this coming?” I try to avoid eye contact and find a way to make things better.

“No.”

“I think you’d be better off with Brittany.” I say hitting another ledge on the reasons why we need to break up. “You two were so good together; I wouldn’t want to get in-between the inevitable.”

“Okay.” Milan says.

That’s it? Okay? I wasn’t really expecting him to break down in tears but we went from picking out houses to breaking up?! “Well okay,” I reply

“You made a good point Amber. We’ve outgrown each other. You’re not the same girl who’d doodle in the margins of my chemistry notes and I’m not the same guy who’d sneak into your bedroom after games. I guess this is goodbye”

“Okay, well um… here you go” I say placing the large, bulky, Stanley Cup ring on his table. “Enjoy your breakfast.” I say as I picking up my suitcase and closing the door behind me gentley. I was leaving, leaving that cozy but sparsely decorated apartment in the North End, possibly for the very last time.