Page 8 of My So-Called Perfect Life
Today was supposed to be a joyous one, filled with so much adventure as Scott and I got ready for our honeymoon. Instead, it feels like I’ve been hit in the head with a bat and concussed. I have a headache and feel nauseous every time I think about Scott and Mandy. I don’t know if I’m coming or going as I try to deal with all that accompanies calling off a wedding and having my heart broken.
When I get back home, I scroll through social media for over an hour to make sure I didn’t end up going viral yesterday.Wouldn’t that just be the icing on the cake?
After I sign off, I make myself a promise. Today, I am moving forward. Last night had been my release night. I cried it out, drank too much wine, and ate crappy food with my girls. Now, all that’s left is to move forward. I have to. I can never forgive Scott for what he did. It’s just not possible, which is why I will not wallow.
I text my sister and Mercy, explaining as much. I need everyone on board as I embrace my new outlook on life.
There are about a hundred pieces of my life to pick up and put together while removing Scott from the picture. Number one is calling my super, Armando, to see about the possibility of keeping my apartment.
Pulling up my contacts in my phone, I hit my super’s name and wait for him to answer while a thousand nerves bounce in my chest.
“Hello?”
“Hi Armando,” I greet before diving into my sob story.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” He sounds sincere. “But I have new tenants ready to move into your unit on August 1.”
My stomach drops. I’m going to have to find a new place. I’m sure Mercy or Amelia would let me crash on their couch. I suddenly feel a pang of regret for not agreeing to the idea that we all find a place together when it was discussed a few years back, but I knew that, at some point, Scott was going to propose, and my life with him would begin, so it seemed pointless for all of us to move in together, only for me to leave them to find another roommate.
“Okay, well, thank you anyway, Armando,” I say, not masking the defeat in my voice.
“Now, hold on a second, Danielle,” he replies. “I have a unit opening on the fourth floor as well. Let me contact the new tenants for your place and see if I can get them set up in Gentry’s old place. Then, you can stay on the second floor. If not, you can have the Gentry unit.”
“Really?” Relief zips through my body at warp speed. The idea of having to scour the city for a new place is daunting and sat in my stomach like a bag of lead. “Thank you, Armando. Thank you so much. You have no idea how much I appreciate this.”
His laugh eases the bit of remaining tension—for this issue at least. “No problem, kid. You’ve always been a great tenant. I prefer to keep those around if I can.”
It’s going to be torture waiting to hear back from him, but at least I know that, regardless, the pain of having to find a new residence has been crossed off my list. Next up, dealing with the airline.
Of course, this is the one time I don’t get the travel insurance. Canceling my honeymoon never crossed my mind though.
I dig through my emails, looking for the confirmation email from the airline. I find it and click on the number listed for customer service.
While I wait on hold, I pull up the booking site I used to reserve the hotel. If I do it now, I can cancel my reservation and still get a refund. I’ll lose the first night but that’s better than losing the entire thing. When an actual real-live person comes over the line, I begin telling my tale all over again. I wonder how many times I will have to repeat this before I never have to think about it again.
“Isn’t there a refund policy for a woman who was deceived by her dumbass fiancé?” I ask the customer service rep in exasperation when she finally returns to the line to tell me that I can’t get my money back for the tickets to St. Lucia.
She sounds empathetic but still repeats the same information, “I’m sorry, ma’am. The best I can do is give you a credit, minus the applicable fees, for future travel.”
“Okay, thank you,” I sigh. “I have until tomorrow to request the credit, correct?”
I’m starting to wonder if I should just take the trip to St. Lucia with my sister or Mercy.
“Yes, Miss Jacobs.”
My phone clatters against the counter as I drop it down.
All I want to do is scream at the top of my lungs. I was the one humiliated and embarrassed, and now, I have to try and clean up the mess Scott left.
My phone lights up with my parents’ number.
“Hello?”
“Hi, Danielle.” He sounds sad.
“Hi, Daddy.”
“How are you doing?”
