May 23rd, 1991
At home, England
I honestly don’t know how people can put in a full day of work, after sitting in traffic for hours on end, only to be faced with the same at the end of the day. That life is definitely not for me. I get really tired from flying and the time changes we constantly experience, but even that seems like nothing, compared to the dreaded commute.
As planned, I got to class early, even before the instructor showed up! I positioned myself in the middle of the back row, which ended up being a terrible idea as it meant I was last to get out!
Millie arrived late, looking utterly frazzled. I actually felt sorry for her, thereby confirming what a sap I am. She sat close to the front and looked very distracted for the remainder of the morning. At lunchtime, I avoided her by sitting in my car (ridiculous, I know) but at the end of the day she made her way to the back of the room.
“I’m glad that’s over, aren’t you?” Her smile looked genuine but I knew to keep my guard up.
“Definitely,” I muttered, feigning distraction, packing my stuff away as she casually plopped herself on the desk.
“Do you think there’s a chance we could be friends again?”
Not looking at her, I shook my head no.
“I’m so sorry,” she said, her voice cracking. “I really am sorry for everything that happened.”
“You should be,” I said, surprising myself. That all too familiar look of rage flashed across her face but quickly changed to another sweet smile, reminding me how calculated she can be. There was nothing left on the desk, so I picked up my bag.
“You’re not going home now, are you? It’s rush hour. Maybe we could go for a drink and let the traffic die down.”
“I don’t think so.”
“Fine, suit yourself,” she hissed. “And by the way, I hate your ring.”
I cried much of the way home, which sounds ridiculous but I know for sure we’ll never be friends again and that makes me sad. Instead of packing for tomorrow, I’ve been drowning my sorrows in tea and biscuits but it’s only a New York trip, so I won’t need much.