Sincerely, Yours

by Whitney G.

  The next day at school, I set the sorry note on my teacher’s desk super early and walked down the farthest row—plopping down in the very last seat. Then I took out my homework and tried to finish a few more math questions before class started.

  I counted four times seven on my fingers and saw Arizona taking the seat next to me.

  “Good morning, Carter,” she said.

  I pretended that I didn’t hear her.

  “Carter?” She tapped my shoulder and I wrote twenty- eight on my paper.

  “Hello?” She tapped my shoulder even harder. “Carter? Carter?”

  “WHAT?!” I finally looked at her.

  “Don’t you have something for me today? Something nice and important?” She smiled her huge mouth of metal.

  Ugh. She’s so ugly. “Nope.”

  “Your mom didn’t make you write me another ‘I’m very sorry’ note?” She crossed her arms. “Because that’s exactly what she told my mom on the phone this morning.”

  “Well, your mom must be deaf and dumb because I didn’t write anything for you.”

  “What?” She gasped. “Take that back or I’ll snitch!”

  “Go ahead and snitch!” I shrugged, waiting for her to raise her hand and tell on me like always.

  She didn’t. She just stared at me. Then she reached into her pocket and tossed a folded note onto my desk.

  I wanted to crumple it into a ball and throw it right at her face like I should have done yesterday, but I opened it instead and read.

  Dear Carter,

  I am sorry that I made you act bad and break Miss Carpenter’s pens yesterday, but I am not sorry that I HATE you. You are ugly and you talk way too much. That’s why I always get you in trouble because you can’t shut up and you think you know everything BUT YOU DON’T! I really wish you will get hit by a bus one day soon because you suck. You suck A LOT.

  Not Sincerely,

  Arizona

  We became best friends that very day.

  Track 1. Blank Space (3:47)

  Carter

  Present Day

  The sex just isn’t enough anymore.

  I shook my head as my current girlfriend, Emily, ran in circles around me on the beach. Dressed in a bright red bikini, she smiled as she splashed me, garnering the jealous attention of other guys nearby. Every so often, when I smiled back at her, she would untie the camera from her wrist and stand next to me—holding it high above us while yelling, “Selfie time! Cutest Couple Everrr!”

  To be honest, everything about this woman was damn near perfect on the outside: She was stunningly beautiful, with light green eyes and full soft lips; she had an infectious laugh that could make the most sullen person smile, and her sense of humor was pretty similar to mine. She had a naturally bubbly personality that could make any stranger believe she was a best friend at a first encounter, and behind closed doors, her desire for sex was almost as high as mine.

  That’s where her nice qualities ended though, and I, unfortunately, found that out much too late.

  A few months after we started to date seriously, her true character began to show: First, I found out that her naturally bubbly personality wasn’t “natural” at all; it was a side effect of the illegal Adderall she often abused and overdosed. Second, was her habit of texting me every hour on the hour with “I miss you, baby. Where are you?” whenever we weren’t together. If I didn’t answer her in three minutes or less, she would text me repeatedly: “Are you dead? ARE. YOU. DEAD?!” And lastly, the reason I was definitely ending this relationship sooner rather than later, was her new and weird-ass sex fetish: She liked to crawl around the room on all fours and purr like a kitten before and after sex. She even “meowed” when she came.

  Some shit I just couldn’t handle for the long term.

  “Hey, you!” Emily splashed me, knocking me out of my thoughts. “What are you over there thinking about?”

  “A lot of things.” I admitted.

  “That’s why I like you, Carter.” She smiled. “You’re always in deep thought, thinking about deep things.” She held the camera above us. “Deep-thought selfie!”

  “Right …” I waited until she’d snapped the photo. “Are you ready to head back yet?”

  “Almost! Give me five minutes. I want to wade farther out and feel the waves against my chest one last time.”

  I nodded and watched her slip into the ocean—beckoning me to join her, but I simply forced a smile and stayed back. I was still thinking, still wondering why I could never get past the six-month mark with any woman I dated—why I could never find enough strength to stick around another second.

  “Okay!” Emily met me on the shore. “I’m ready to head back now if you are, Carter. I know what’s really on your mind.” She pressed her hand against my crotch. “Meow …”

  Jesus.

  I moved her hand away and clasped it, leading her back toward my place.

  “What do you think about going to the Everglades tomorrow?” she asked.

  “I think we should talk about that tomorrow. We actually have a lot to talk about.”

  “Awww.” She squeezed my hand. “It sounds like you’re finally going to let me inside and tell me all your deep, dark secrets …”

  “I don’t have any deep, dark secrets.”

  “Well, whatever you want to talk about tomorrow, can we not talk about it at Gayle’s?”

  “What?” I looked over at her and raised my eyebrow. “Why not?”

  “Because, although I know you love the food there and I do, too, I hate that place. Like, being there, you know?”

  “Not really.”

  “I just feel like it’s not our own ‘couple spot’, you know? Every couple needs their own “OMG, this is our spot” type of place. Speaking of which, I was thinking we need to post more pictures of us together on Facebook. I’ll be posting what we took today on tomorrow. What do you think of the caption: “OMG! My boyfriend took me on a surprise trip to the beach? Hashtag, he loves me, hashtag, don’t be jealous, hashtag, he always spends money on me.”

  “The beach is free.”

  She ignored my comment and continued babbling, eventually transitioning from our social media profiles to how badly she wanted to ride me tonight, but the second we got back to my place, she collapsed onto my bed and fell asleep.

  Relieved, I took a beer from the fridge and leaned against the counter. I needed to think tomorrow’s break-up through. I needed it to be short, swift, and to the point.

  “It’s not you, it’s me.” “I’m just not sure if I’m really the man you’re looking for.” “Okay, look. It’s that weird-ass cat shit you do.”

  No, no. I need to be diplomatic about this. Hmmm.

  I googled, “Top Ten Best Ways to Break Up with Someone,” but the browser crashed and a phone call came through instead. My best friend, Arizona.

  “Hello?” I answered.

  “Meowwww ,” she whispered. “Meowww. Meow!”

  “Fuck you, Ari.”

  She laughed. “Are you busy right now? Am I interrupting something?”

  “Not at all.” I stepped into my room and tapped the wall to see if Emily would wake up. “I just got back from the beach. Emily passed out as soon as we got back.”

  “Did she eat too much catnip? That happens to me all the time.”

  “Is there a point to this goddamn phone call, Ari?”

  “There is.” She laughed. “There is.”

  “Care to share it before I hang up on you?”

  “Yeah. I think I finally want to have sex with Scott tonight.”

  “Okay. Then go finally have sex with Scott tonight.”

  “No, no, no …” Her tone was more serious now. “I’m just not sure if I should or not, you know? I’m getting some vibes.”

  “What kind of vibes?”

  “That it’s not a good idea, that it’s not the right time.”

  I sighed. Arizona always needed to host an internal examination session whenever she
was considering sleeping with a guy. Everything had to be measured in terms of risks and returns, down to “the intensity of the kisses,” “the average length and quality of the dates,” and “the long-term relationship factor.” Even though she denied it, I knew she kept a spreadsheet on her phone to track all of those ridiculous factors, and that she started a new one each time she dated someone.

  “Look,” I said, “if you don’t want to sleep with him, don’t. Tell him you’re not ready yet.”

  “Do you think he’ll be okay with that, though? We’ve been together eight months.”

  “What?” I nearly choked on my beer. “It’s been eight months?”

  “See? That’s the thing, and I know he feels like tonight is the night, since I kind of alluded to it, but I don’t know. I’m not sure if he’s worth the risk. I don’t want to get burned again.”

  “Wait a minute.” I shook my head. “Where are you right now?”

  “In Scott’s apartment.”

  “Then where the hell is he?”

  “He went to CVS to get us some condoms.”

  “At least his heart is in the right place.” I rolled my eyes. “Seriously though, if you’re not one hundred percent sure, just tell him what you just told me. He’ll have to understand.”

  “And if he doesn’t?”

  “Find someone who does.”

  “Right,” she said. “Are you still thinking about breaking up with Emily this weekend, or are you going to try and make it work?”

  “No.” I walked over to my bedroom door and shut it before completely answering. “It’s definitely over. I’m not feeling it anymore, and I’m beyond tired of all the arguing, her erratic craziness, and feeling like I have to check in every hour on the hour.”

  “This is your fourth breakup in a year. I think it’s time for you to give the girlfriend thing a rest.”

  “Don’t worry,” I said. “I’ve finally accepted that I’m not the relationship type, and I’ll be making my single status very clear after tomorrow. I need to be single and enjoy life before law school starts anyway.”

  “So, you’re saying that you’re going to be a whore this summer?”

  “I’m implying that.” I smiled. “There’s a difference.”

  “There’s really not. Oh! Gotta go! Scott just pulled up in the driveway, so I’ll call you tomorrow. Bye!”

  I hung up and grabbed another beer from the fridge. As I was shutting the door, a plate whizzed by my head—inches away from my ear. It hit the wall and shattered onto the floor.

  “What the—” I turned around to see a red-faced Emily. “What the fuck is wrong with you?”

  “With me?” She tossed another plate at my head and missed. “What’s wrong with me? What the fuck is wrong with you?!”

  “Only one of us is currently using plates as a potential murder weapon right now.”

  “You’re breaking up with me tomorrow? Days before graduation?”

  “If I say yes, will you stop throwing my goddamn plates?”

  She threw another one, but it landed near the stove. “I thought we were going on vacation together this summer! I had tons of selfies and sex planned, but all of a sudden, you’re willing to throw it away? Just like that?” She was talking faster than ever. “I know I text you all the time, but only because I worry and like you so much, and I’m a journalism major, so I see stories that would make your mind explode. People are out there dying every day, Carter. Every. Day.”

  “Okay.” I shook my head. “Exactly how much Adderall did you take today?”

  “Our perfect future aside, you’re breaking up with me and I have to hear about it from a phone conversation you’re having with someone else? That’s messed up, Carter! Beyond messed up!”

  “You’re right.” I held up my hands in a slight surrender. “And I’m actually very sorry about that, but yes, I am breaking up with you tomorrow. Well, right now, actually.” I decided to give diplomatic option one a go. “It’s not you, it’s me …”

  “Are you being serious right now?”

  I went for diplomatic option two. “I just don’t think I’m the man you’re looking for.”

  She was silent for a long time, glaring at me in utter disbelief. I was hoping she wouldn’t try to talk me out of this, otherwise, I’d have to go with the less than diplomatic reason and dodge more plates.

  “You know what?” She set down the remaining plates in her hand and slid her bag over her shoulder. Then she walked toward me. “I should’ve seen this coming miles away; should’ve known that you would never bare your soul to me, like I bared mine to you.”

  “You’re more than welcome to stay the night,” I said, glad she was somewhat accepting. “I never said I was putting you out. I can take you home tomorrow.”

  “Oh! So, now you want to be a gentleman?” She hissed. “Please! My best friend is outside waiting for me.”

  “Well, in that case, I’m sorry we didn’t work out.”

  “You’re really not,” she said, stepping closer. “You’re not sorry because you don’t really want a girlfriend, Carter. You’ve never wanted one, and do you want to know why?” A slight purr escaped her lips and I was even more convinced that ending this relationship was for the best.

  “Ask me why.” She pushed my shoulder. “Ask me why you don’t need a goddamn girlfriend!”

  “Why don’t I need a girlfriend, Emily?”

  “Because you already have one. You always have.” She pushed me harder. “And her name is Arizona Turner.”

  I raised my eyebrow, completely confused.

  “So, fuck you and her, and I hope your tiny little cock—”

  “It was huge when you were riding it yesterday.”

  “Whatever! Fuck. You. Carter.” She bumped me with her shoulder and headed toward the side door. She twisted and turned the lock a few times, pushing and pulling on the knob.

  “You have to leave through the front door,” I said without moving. “New locks, remember?”

  “Oh, yeah. I totally forgot about that. Did I ever tell you that I liked the new locks you picked?” She moved to the front door and opened it, looking over her shoulder. “I liked them a lot, very artsy and unique. How much did you pay for them again?”

  I gave her a blank stare.

  “Well, then,” she said, snapping back into pissed off mode.” Goodbye, Carter James. And FUCK YOU AGAIN. With something rough and sand-papery!”

  The inevitable door slam came right after.

  I walked into my room to see if she’d damaged anything, to see if she’d tried to leave a revenge mark somewhere, and she had. Pictures that were once hanging on my wall—the only ones I had of my parents, were lying all over the floor. She’d even somehow managed to open all my desk drawers and throw everything out without making too much noise.

  Why do I continue to do this to myself?

  Annoyed, yet relieved that I’d be spending tonight alone, I returned everything to its rightful place—hanging the pictures back up first.

  When I finished tossing all of the pencils and pens back into the drawer, I heard my phone ringing in my pocket. Arizona, again.

  “Yes?” I held it up to my ear. “Do I need to explain how sex works to you? I know it’s been a while in your world, but it really isn’t that difficult …”

  “Scott dumped me!”

  “What?”

  “HE. DUMPED. ME!” She huffed. “But you know what? I’ll call and tell you about it tomorrow after I calm down. I don’t want Emily accusing you of having phone sex with me.”

  “Emily actually just left.” I searched for my car keys. “We can talk.”

  “Oh, my god, let me tell you then!” Her coherent speech ended right there. Whenever she was discussing a breakup, there was an endless tirade of cursing and ‘What a goddamn asshole!’ ‘He didn’t deserve me!’ ‘He’s going to miss me!’ woes before she started to sound intelligible.

  “Ari,” I said after she’d called him a dickhead for th
e umpteenth time. “Just tell me what happened.”

  “Right.” She took a deep breath. “He came back with the condoms, and we were suddenly half naked, kissing, and we were close to going there—so close. But those weird vibes came back, so I told him to stop and that I wasn’t ready. I said I needed a little more time to make sure I was doing the right thing. Then I said, ‘Besides, Carter thinks that I should—”

  “Whoa, whoa, whoa.” I stopped, finally locating my car keys. “You brought me up?”

  “Yeah, why wouldn’t I? I told him what you said about me being one hundred percent sure before I slept with someone. Then he said, ‘Okay, that’s it. We’re over. Get the hell out’.”

  “He did not tell you to get the hell out, Ari. You’re exaggerating.”

  “He did!” She sounded livid all over again. “As a matter of fact, when I was walking out, he said that since I always have to go ask for your advice about everything, that I should just go and fuck you.”

  Silence.

  At the same time, we both burst into hysterical laughter.

  “No offense,” I said, still laughing. “But I would never fuck you, let alone put up with you in a relationship.”

  “You mean, I would never put up with you. Not only are you the worst boyfriend in the history of boyfriends, you’re also not my type.”

  “Clearly.” I opened the ‘track-current-caller’ app on my phone. “Exceptionally sexy, muscular in all the right places, and the ability to make any woman want to sleep with me after a first date are somehow all unfortunate qualities in your mind.”

  “Seriously? Are you listening to yourself right now?” She scoffed. “Please. For the record, my qualities are far better and weed out the one-track minded men like yourself: Smart, witty, and talented with something other than my tongue.”

  “You left out your best quality.”

  “Which one?”

  “The permanent ‘not interested in fucking’ label etched onto your forehead.”