Are You Just Bad News?

I’d come to find out that the guy I’d met that day was Mike, as in Mike Carden from across the hall.

A month later, and I was all situated into my house – much thanks to Mike.

My new home, named Hoffman Estates. That was the name of the little abandoned township I lived in. It was quite boring here; this part of Illinois was very quiet. Very homey, very friend and family oriented.

I would come to learn all of this from Mike, of course.

I had also learned from Mike that he grew up here, in Hoffman Estates. And pretty much everyone knew his name, knew his family, and knew all the things he’d done in high school.

Him and Will.

Who’s Will, you may ask? Will is the guy he lives with, his best friend of “like a million years” (straight from the horses mouth). In the month I was getting used to my new home, I’d only see William Beckett once.

And that was when we bumped into each other at the front door.

Apparently, two more of Mike’s friends lived in the apartment building too. Andy and Adam, one with dirty blond hair like mine, but curly, and a “skinny little thing with tattoos all over”. Apparently, Adam’s Uncle owned the building, and he was the guy I paid rent to. He was also the reason why all four of them lived there.

He got them it cheap.
Psh, family.

Mike told me all the time about the band him and the guys were starting, a project him and William had been working on for years. Turns out Mike’s the guitarist, William sang, and Adam and Andy were in it too, as bassist and drummer.

From what Mike said, they were pretty good. But he might’ve just been tooting his own horn.

After a while, and letting Mike talk about himself for a majority of our conversations, I began to tell him about myself. And about my past.

I usually opened up to people quickly, after I learned a lot about them and what they were all about. It was a common character flaw, something I made sure I did every time I met someone new.

Either way, my past wasn’t necessarily a scary one.

I was a normal, girl next door from Chamberlains, Michigan. I’d lived there all my 19 years on my earth, and was planning on going to college there. But I moved to Illinois for a reason, and one reason only.

And that reason was Jeff Mendelssohn.

He is…whatever, he was/is my everything. I’d known him my entire life, everyone back home just knew we were destined to be together. We spent every waking moment together, no matter the time or the place.

At about 7th grade, we had decided that it was time to start dating “properly” after the awkward conversations and sideways glances. And so we dated all through high school, never leaving each other’s sides.

Until the end of senior year came, and I learned about Jeff’s plans for the next year.

Student Exchange Program.

Yeah, not exactly what every girl wants to hear at the beginning of her last summer ever.

I wanted us to spend the whole summer together, go to school together, and see where the rest of the world may take us. But that was obviously farthest from Jeff’s mind.

He only wanted to spend a little time. The rest would be with family, and then he needed to get ready to do this. It would be a ‘whole new adventure’ for him. And me, being the supportive, loving, girlfriend that I am – I told him I was okay with it.

When I obviously was not.

But ignorance is bliss, right? Jeff had absolutely no idea, and prepared to leave me for…however long that program was.

Either way, I had a plan of my own too. I was going to leave Michigan, leave my lovely, easy lifestyle, and venture out on my own in a brand new state. I applied for a college, an art school in Illinois, and was ecstatic when I was accepted.

This was my chance to start fresh, to escape the loneliness I was bound to have if I would’ve stayed in Michigan.

“Wow,” Mike muttered when I’d finished. “That’s so lame and like, sappy soap opera-type story, I think I might have a stomach ache, it was so gross.”

As you can now tell, the relationship between Mike and I had gotten to a different level…a level more like, brother-sister.

Good, cause I was an only child.

“I hate you,” I snapped, burying my head in my arms. I felt Mike’s warm hand on my back as he rubbed circles into it, attempting to soothe me.

“Aw, I’m sorry Lay,” he said, using his new found nickname for me.

It was fine though; it wasn’t like I expected him to understand. I didn’t expect anyone to understand. But it was my decision.

Which is exactly why I grabbed all my college money, my car, my cat Mr. Dandy, and fled the state – without another thought to it.