So the Season's Changed Your Face
Act VII, Scene II
So, you’re probably wondering what the fuck happened in the last two and a half years to make me so angry with Mike.
Allow me to revisit that terrible weekend in April of 2004.
College is a bitch, let me tell you.
Spring break could not have come sooner.
My roommates tried to get me to go to Cancun with them, but I didn’t have the means or the desire to go to Cancun, especially with them. I like them enough…but not enough to travel with them. It’s bad enough that I live with them.
I decided to spend the week at my mom’s rather than my dad’s because I hadn’t seen her since Christmas, and to be honest, I felt pretty guilty about that. During the school year, I had cut off almost all communication with her. I blamed it on being busy and having a weird schedule, but really, I just didn’t want to talk to her.
Regardless, I’m home now. My bed is as comfortable as ever and I think I spent my first day of break sleeping. The mattress in my dorm room is basically a bag of dirt clods. Some nights, I actually sleep on the floor because it’s more comfortable.
The second day of break, I caught up with mom. We got lunch, went on a walk, made some cookies, you know, mother-daughter type things. She’s better now. Less crazy. Not so drugged up. I appreciate that.
On the third day of break, I saw Dad and Dianne. We got lunch, went on a walk, got some ice cream, you know, father-daughter-father’s girlfriend type things. They’re living together now. They got a dog.
On the fourth day, I was finally alone. Mom was working, Dad was working, everyone was fucking working. I was in the house, by myself, with nothing to do.
And then I remembered I had yet to see Mike. Or Bill. Or any of the guys, actually. I don’t know how I forgot about them. It was midday when I called Mike. He didn’t answer. I assumed he was busy. I left a message and figured he would call me back in a timely manner (he always did).
I called him later in the afternoon. Again, he didn’t answer. Again, I assumed he was busy. Didn’t bother leaving a message this time.
At around ten, I called him again, as he had yet to call me back. This time, someone answered, but it was not Mike.
“Hello?”
It was a male voice I did not recognize. He was talking very loudly because not only was he clearly drunk, he was competing with the loud music playing in the background.
“Hi,” I said loudly. “Can I talk to Mike?”
“Mike? No, this is Joe,”
“Yeah, but this is Mike’s phone and I would really like to talk to him,” I tried to explain. Sometimes, trying to explain things to drunk people is a serious waste of time.
“Oh, right! Yeah, this is Mike’s phone. I’ll go find him,”
“Thanks,” I shouted.
Joe, or whoever he was, took his sweet time getting the phone to Mike. I heard the transfer but had to wait a bit longer before the volume decreased immensely. And finally, I heard Mike’s voice – a voice I hadn’t heard since December.
“Vivi, hi. Can you hear me?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, loud and clear,” I answered, smiling. “How have you been?”
“Good. Great, actually. Really great,” he sounded like he was lying. I know him well enough to know what it sounds like when he lies.
“That’s good,”
“How have you been?” he asked, very clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the subject of him. “How’s college?”
“I’ve been busy. College…is a bitch,” I answered, nodding. “I’m on break right now. That’s actually why I called. I have nothing to do and since I haven’t seen you since December, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.”
“Oh, Vivi, you know I’d love to,” he started, sounding very nervous. “But I can’t tonight.”
“I figured,” I said, chuckling. “Sounds like you’re already doing something. What about tomorrow?”
“Yeeeahhh, I can’t do tomorrow either,” he said. He was probably scratching the back of his neck right now – oh, wait, he is. I can hear it.
“Why not?” I asked.
Mike took an anxious breath, obviously vying for more time. “Shit, Vivi, I’m really sorry.”
“What, Mike? What happened?” I asked, preparing myself for the worst. I figured he had cheated on me while I was away. I wouldn’t really be surprised. We hadn’t seen each other in months. We barely spoke. It almost felt like we were only still together because neither one of us wanted to admit that it wasn’t working anymore.
“Vivi, I can’t see you because I’m not in Chicago,” he finally said. “I’m not even in Illinois.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Chico,” he said quietly. “Chico, California.”
“Why are you in Chico?” I asked. Tears were blurring my vision, though I wasn’t sure why I was upset about this.
“I’m – we’re on tour, kind of,” he answered slowly. “With Fall Out Boy and Midtown and some other people.”
A really big part of me was happy for him. He always looked up to both Fall Out Boy and Midtown and I bet he feels honored to be touring with them. But a more dominant part of me was mad as hell. I knew he didn’t tell me, but I asked anyway. “Did you tell me about this?”
“I – I did not tell you about this,” he admitted. “I’m really sorry, Vivi. I’m really fucking sorry.”
He sounded sincere. He sounded like he regretted not telling me. Unfortunately, my mind was clouded by my own insecurities and I was not prepared to forgive him. “Mike, save it. You obviously don’t care enough – you obviously don’t – it seems to me like you don’t want me in your life anymore,” I said, finally finding my words. “And that’s fine, I guess. But I’m not going to wait around for you to figure out whether you want to make this work or not. I don’t have to put up with this. I’m done, Mike. I’m done.”
“Vivi, don’t-”
“Don’t bother calling. Don’t bother coming over. Just don’t bother, Mike. You didn’t before, so why should you now?” I was struggling to keep my voice steady and calm, but this was proving to be difficult. “Just…fuck off, okay? Go have fun and go do whatever the fuck you want. I’m happy for you. It doesn’t sound like it, but I am. I’m glad you’re finally doing what you want to do. I just wish it involved me.”
“Vivi, it’s not like that-”
“Mike, I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’m done with you,” I said. “Goodbye, Mike.”
“Vivi-”
I hung up on him, wishing I had the strength to call him back and hear his side of the story. I shoved my phone under my pillow and cried like a fucking baby, hoping he would call.
By the time I woke up on Thursday afternoon with a massive headache and puffy eyes, he still hadn’t called. He didn’t call on Friday or Saturday either.
On Sunday, my last day of Spring Break, I got a voicemail from William. At this point, I was screening all of my calls because I wasn’t strong enough to talk to anyone without sobbing.
“Hi, Vivi, it’s Bill. Um, I heard what happened. I’m sorry, Vivi. I was really rooting for you guys. That probably doesn’t make you feel better. Anyway, we’re home now. Well, actually, we got in early yesterday morning, but hey, same difference, right? You probably don’t want to hang out with us or really have anything to do with us, but it would be nice if I could see you before you go back to school. If not, I’ll see you over the summer,” he paused. “Um, Mike didn’t tell me to keep this to myself so I don’t feel guilty for telling you, but he went back to his parents’. He’s pretty broken up about it. I hope I see you soon or at least get to talk to you soon, but if not, I’ll see you later. Um, yeah, bye.”
Subtle, that one.
Allow me to revisit that terrible weekend in April of 2004.
College is a bitch, let me tell you.
Spring break could not have come sooner.
My roommates tried to get me to go to Cancun with them, but I didn’t have the means or the desire to go to Cancun, especially with them. I like them enough…but not enough to travel with them. It’s bad enough that I live with them.
I decided to spend the week at my mom’s rather than my dad’s because I hadn’t seen her since Christmas, and to be honest, I felt pretty guilty about that. During the school year, I had cut off almost all communication with her. I blamed it on being busy and having a weird schedule, but really, I just didn’t want to talk to her.
Regardless, I’m home now. My bed is as comfortable as ever and I think I spent my first day of break sleeping. The mattress in my dorm room is basically a bag of dirt clods. Some nights, I actually sleep on the floor because it’s more comfortable.
The second day of break, I caught up with mom. We got lunch, went on a walk, made some cookies, you know, mother-daughter type things. She’s better now. Less crazy. Not so drugged up. I appreciate that.
On the third day of break, I saw Dad and Dianne. We got lunch, went on a walk, got some ice cream, you know, father-daughter-father’s girlfriend type things. They’re living together now. They got a dog.
On the fourth day, I was finally alone. Mom was working, Dad was working, everyone was fucking working. I was in the house, by myself, with nothing to do.
And then I remembered I had yet to see Mike. Or Bill. Or any of the guys, actually. I don’t know how I forgot about them. It was midday when I called Mike. He didn’t answer. I assumed he was busy. I left a message and figured he would call me back in a timely manner (he always did).
I called him later in the afternoon. Again, he didn’t answer. Again, I assumed he was busy. Didn’t bother leaving a message this time.
At around ten, I called him again, as he had yet to call me back. This time, someone answered, but it was not Mike.
“Hello?”
It was a male voice I did not recognize. He was talking very loudly because not only was he clearly drunk, he was competing with the loud music playing in the background.
“Hi,” I said loudly. “Can I talk to Mike?”
“Mike? No, this is Joe,”
“Yeah, but this is Mike’s phone and I would really like to talk to him,” I tried to explain. Sometimes, trying to explain things to drunk people is a serious waste of time.
“Oh, right! Yeah, this is Mike’s phone. I’ll go find him,”
“Thanks,” I shouted.
Joe, or whoever he was, took his sweet time getting the phone to Mike. I heard the transfer but had to wait a bit longer before the volume decreased immensely. And finally, I heard Mike’s voice – a voice I hadn’t heard since December.
“Vivi, hi. Can you hear me?” Mike asked.
“Yeah, loud and clear,” I answered, smiling. “How have you been?”
“Good. Great, actually. Really great,” he sounded like he was lying. I know him well enough to know what it sounds like when he lies.
“That’s good,”
“How have you been?” he asked, very clearly trying to steer the conversation away from the subject of him. “How’s college?”
“I’ve been busy. College…is a bitch,” I answered, nodding. “I’m on break right now. That’s actually why I called. I have nothing to do and since I haven’t seen you since December, I was wondering if you wanted to hang out.”
“Oh, Vivi, you know I’d love to,” he started, sounding very nervous. “But I can’t tonight.”
“I figured,” I said, chuckling. “Sounds like you’re already doing something. What about tomorrow?”
“Yeeeahhh, I can’t do tomorrow either,” he said. He was probably scratching the back of his neck right now – oh, wait, he is. I can hear it.
“Why not?” I asked.
Mike took an anxious breath, obviously vying for more time. “Shit, Vivi, I’m really sorry.”
“What, Mike? What happened?” I asked, preparing myself for the worst. I figured he had cheated on me while I was away. I wouldn’t really be surprised. We hadn’t seen each other in months. We barely spoke. It almost felt like we were only still together because neither one of us wanted to admit that it wasn’t working anymore.
“Vivi, I can’t see you because I’m not in Chicago,” he finally said. “I’m not even in Illinois.”
Okay, I wasn’t expecting that. “Where are you?”
“I’m in Chico,” he said quietly. “Chico, California.”
“Why are you in Chico?” I asked. Tears were blurring my vision, though I wasn’t sure why I was upset about this.
“I’m – we’re on tour, kind of,” he answered slowly. “With Fall Out Boy and Midtown and some other people.”
A really big part of me was happy for him. He always looked up to both Fall Out Boy and Midtown and I bet he feels honored to be touring with them. But a more dominant part of me was mad as hell. I knew he didn’t tell me, but I asked anyway. “Did you tell me about this?”
“I – I did not tell you about this,” he admitted. “I’m really sorry, Vivi. I’m really fucking sorry.”
He sounded sincere. He sounded like he regretted not telling me. Unfortunately, my mind was clouded by my own insecurities and I was not prepared to forgive him. “Mike, save it. You obviously don’t care enough – you obviously don’t – it seems to me like you don’t want me in your life anymore,” I said, finally finding my words. “And that’s fine, I guess. But I’m not going to wait around for you to figure out whether you want to make this work or not. I don’t have to put up with this. I’m done, Mike. I’m done.”
“Vivi, don’t-”
“Don’t bother calling. Don’t bother coming over. Just don’t bother, Mike. You didn’t before, so why should you now?” I was struggling to keep my voice steady and calm, but this was proving to be difficult. “Just…fuck off, okay? Go have fun and go do whatever the fuck you want. I’m happy for you. It doesn’t sound like it, but I am. I’m glad you’re finally doing what you want to do. I just wish it involved me.”
“Vivi, it’s not like that-”
“Mike, I don’t want to hear it, okay? I’m done with you,” I said. “Goodbye, Mike.”
“Vivi-”
I hung up on him, wishing I had the strength to call him back and hear his side of the story. I shoved my phone under my pillow and cried like a fucking baby, hoping he would call.
By the time I woke up on Thursday afternoon with a massive headache and puffy eyes, he still hadn’t called. He didn’t call on Friday or Saturday either.
On Sunday, my last day of Spring Break, I got a voicemail from William. At this point, I was screening all of my calls because I wasn’t strong enough to talk to anyone without sobbing.
“Hi, Vivi, it’s Bill. Um, I heard what happened. I’m sorry, Vivi. I was really rooting for you guys. That probably doesn’t make you feel better. Anyway, we’re home now. Well, actually, we got in early yesterday morning, but hey, same difference, right? You probably don’t want to hang out with us or really have anything to do with us, but it would be nice if I could see you before you go back to school. If not, I’ll see you over the summer,” he paused. “Um, Mike didn’t tell me to keep this to myself so I don’t feel guilty for telling you, but he went back to his parents’. He’s pretty broken up about it. I hope I see you soon or at least get to talk to you soon, but if not, I’ll see you later. Um, yeah, bye.”
Subtle, that one.