Sarah Mlynowski - Me Vs. Me

ME VS. ME

SARAH MLYNOWSKI

For Sylvia Harris and Dora Stein,

grandmas extraordinaire

Many, many thanks to:

My fab new editor, Selina McLemore, my fab former editor, Farrin Jacobs, Tara Kelly, Margaret Marbury, Sarah Rundle and the rest of the RDI team, my awesome agent Laura Dail and superb publicist Gail Brussel.

For their brilliant insights and edits: Elissa Ambrose (thanks again, Mom; youre the best), Robert Ambrose, Lynda Curnyn, Alison Pace, Lisa Callamaro, Jessica Braun, Melissa Senate, Kristin Harmel, Dari Alexander and Chad Ruble.

For their never-ending love and support:

Larry Mlynowski, Louisa Weiss, Aviva Mlynowski, Jen Dalven, Gary Swidler, Darren Swidler, John Swidler, Bonnie Altro, Robin Afrasiabi, Jess Davidman, Ronit Avni. Special thanks to Vicki Swidler for being a dream mother-in-law, and luckily for me, nothing like Alice. And of course, Todd Swidler, the one for me no matter which road I would have taken.

BEFORE

C lose your eyes, Gabby, Cam said.

Now? Im watching. Closing your eyes during a meteor shower was like wearing a bikini when taking a bath. You were definitely going to miss the important parts.

We were lying in the back of his Ford pickup, admiring the desert sky exploding above, drunk on merlot sipped straight from the bottle (with cork remnants to spice it upI could never open a bottle properly), while the light rained down on us from every direction.

Come on, just close them, he said.

As usual, I did as I was told. Happy?

I heard the metal creak. He squeezed my left hand and then slipped something cold and hard around my fourth finger.

Was thatdid heMy eyes shot open. Holy shit.

Cam was no longer lying next to me, but crouched in an awkward wannabe-knight kneel.

Will you marry me? he asked. A massive Cheshire-cat smile stretched across his normally serious face, making him look off-kilter.

Sparkle, twinkle, glitter. Ohhh. I had my very own meteor shower on my finger. At closer glance I could see it was a pear-shaped diamond (one carat or two?) set on a thin platinum band.

The man I loved had just proposed marriage.

The blood rushed to my head and my face felt hot. I wanted to say yes. Yes.

Yeeeeeeeeeeeeeeees! This was the moment Id been waiting for my entire life. The moment Id been romanticizing about since I first saw Cinderella when I was six and imagined my own glass carriage ready to roll me toward my happily-ever-after castle. A castle I later decided would be filled with thousand-thread-count bed linen and Italian-marble Jacuzzis. All I had to do was respond. To give some sort of affirmative response. Like yes. Or okay, lets.

And I was going to say yes. The word was at my lips, begging to be released. Yes! An orgasmic, hallelujah, couldnt-be-happier yes. Yes!

All I had to do was open my mouth. Unfortunately, my lips were swollen and sticky, like Id spent the day licking envelopes. They wouldnt let me say yes. They knew I couldnt say yes, because I was moving to New York on Sunday. In thirty-six hours. At least, that had been the plan until the will-you-marry-me curveball. Two weeks ago, when I had told Cam of the offer and my decision to take the job at TRSN in New York (the twenty-four-hour news network owned by the TRS network), he had agreed to try long distance. I had to take the jobit was the chance of a lifetime. It was national. It was cable. It paid a six-figure salary. Id be producing legendary Ron Grightons show, which in any lifetime could not compare to my small-fry executive producers job in Phoenix. Id invited Cam to come, to make the move with me across the country, but I knew he wouldnt. I loved him, but this was my career. I had to go for it. And it wasnt like the move was a surprise; Id always told him what my dream wasapartment in Manhattan, jogging in the park (not that I jog, but Ive always wanted to), snowflakes on my nose. Hadnt I?

Perfect, huh? This way you dont have to go to New York, he said, nodding. We both know long-distance relationships never work out.

We did? I wanted to ask since when, but my mouth was still annoyingly uncooperative. I smiled, no easy feat with frozen lips.

And I dont want to lose you, he continued, oblivious to my condition. I want to marry you.

So hed said. I smiled (sort of) again. I never would have pegged Cam as one of those lame-ass romantic-comedy run-to-the-airport-gate-with-flowers-to-catch-the-girl-before-she-flies-out-of-his-life guys, but what did I know? I yanked my eyes away from the sparkling diamond, up to Cams soft lips, to the slither of a space between his two front teeth that had made me realize way back when that he wasnt perfect, made me realize he was a mannot just a guy with adorable curly blond hair, not just a guy who had the answer for everything, but someone with flaws (like me), someone I could fall in love with.

Except I had to tell him no. I was going to New York.

Nothing came out. Apparently, my lips were too swollen for that word, too.

Yes.

No.

Yes. No. Yes, no, yes, no. Yes no yes no. Yesnoyesno.

Cam was now blinking his eyes furiously. I was going to miss those swirling patches of greens and blues. Theyd always reminded me of little globes.

Could I really say goodbye to his globe eyes? Should I? I hated making decisions.

The real problem was that Cam would never in a million years leave Arizona. Career-wise it would be a huge pain in the ass since hes a lawyer, and hed have to take the bar in a new state. Although the corporate bankruptcy firm he worked for, Banford and Kimmel, did have a branch in New York. Truthfully, the real issue was his close relationship with his parents (particularly his mother), his sister and her two and a half kids (shes pregnant). California, maybe, but clear across the country? A different time zone? He didnt see the point.

I wanted to tell him I was the point.

Now suddenly hed decided that long distance wouldnt work. Not that I blamed him. It was like after that breakup when you said youd be friends, but of course you wouldnt be. When you ran into him a year later at a shabby bar downtown, all you talked about was the weather.

Which was always the same here. Hot.

So that was my choice: marry Cam or move to New York. I wanted to take a deep breath, but I was afraid to move, since I still had no idea what to say. Time felt stuck, frozen in a frame, paused by TiVo.

If I left, Id miss the way he always bought me two cards every Valentines Day, one sexy and one mushy, in each envelope a chocolate heart. The way hed throw me over his shoulder and spin me around. The way hed wrap me in a towel when I got out of the shower and then kiss me on the forehead. The way he reminded me to use the bathroom before long car drives.

If I stayed, Id miss out on a major job opportunity.

If I went, Id have to sleep alone. I hated sleeping alone.

If I stayed, the Arizona heat, like a vacuum cleaner pressed to my head, would slowly suck the dreams out of my brain. Id never go on another date. Id be engaged. Id never have another first kiss. Id never get to wear cute pink earmuffs.

I needed to breathe. I inhaled sharply, but felt as if my air was turned off. What was wrong with me?

Id never get to date an Aries, my true love match (I am a Gemini, and Cam is a Libra, which is nowhere near an Aries). Not that I followed such things, but that tidbit had stuck in my mind ever since Id read it in Seventeen when I was twelve. If we got married, Id never know for sure if I could have found eternal bliss with an Aries.

If I said no, would I ever again meet anyone as patient as Cam? Someone who had spent hours of his free time editing my final college papers, then later my rsums and cover letters, and more recently my story scripts? Someone who would calm me when a virus attacked my hard drive and ate my important files, and then reinstall all my software? Someone who would take off work to be with me when I got my wisdom teeth pulled, and then tell me he loved me even though I looked like a deformed chipmunk? Someone who would build me a bookshelf, not from IKEA, but from planks of wood he bought at the hardware store because he liked making furniture (hence the need for a pickup truck)?