Get Out
8:03 PM. I almost could've sworn the clock was moving at 1/6 its normal speed. My flight back to San Sebastian left at 9:30, and I couldn't miss this one. Sociedad could certainly manage a preseason without me, but if I wasn't there a week before the Champions League qualifiers, I'd lose my job.
My bags were packed next to me, just the few clothes and toiletries I'd brought for the two weeks. To be honest, I hadn't expected this to take so long.
I thought she would have been happy for me. I thought she would've loved to live in Spain, experience the new culture, perhaps get a job there. It was going to be an exciting life for
both of us.
What I didn't expect were tears.
She'd gotten a job. Alexandria Hospital, in some suburb called Bolingbrook, a western suburb of Chicago, as a doctor. It was a chance of a lifetime, and she just didn't want to let it go. Not even to move to Spain with me, not even to create a new life for ourselves.
I checked the clock again. 8:05. Nobody had said a thing for five minutes.
"Nicole..."
She gazed up at me from the sofa in her living room, those deep brown eyes still welled up with tears she had yet to blink away. I felt the weight of her eyes crash down on me as I stood next to the door, shuffling awkwardly.
"Please. come with me. I can't walk away from this job, it's a dream come true, but I'd do anything to have you there with me, please ju--"
"Get out." It felt like a slap in the face.
"Nicole, please I lov--"
"Get out. I never want to see you again." She said it so calmly, but I could hear the hurt in her voice, see it in her eyes. A tear traced down her cheek.
I opened my mouth to respond, but nothing came out.
"Get back to your precious football," she spat, and now anger had found its way into her voice as well.
I turned, and walked out the door.
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