Jo: There’s something wrong with Mia.

The text arrived out of the blue as I was driving back to the pizzeria. Five simple words towing worry and dread behind it.

Me: What happened?

Jo: I don’t know. She spaced out at the mall.

Me: Where’s she at?

Jo: I think she’s at home.

Me: Is she answering texts?

Jo: No. She ran like she does when she’s upset.

Everything had been perfect this morning. Was there such a thing as too perfect? Was I cursed because I’d had a charmed life?

I cut a sharp U-turn and sped to Mia’s apartment.

Occasionally my phone buzzed, alerting me to another text. But I was focused on my goal: getting to Mia as quickly as possible. Only when the car was parked in front of her building did I glance at the incoming messages. All of them were from Jo, asking for an update, asking me if I was going to see Mia.

Like I’d leave my girl alone if she was upset or having a bad day.

Nervousness built like static electricity inside me as I rode the elevator up. I knew Mia and how she handled stress. Something had triggered her to run, to push Jo away during their girl’s day out, and hole up in her apartment. At least I speculated as much. I’d know more if Mia was at home.

Finally, I was outside of her apartment. We hadn’t gotten around to exchanging keys yet. I hadn’t wanted to push her too soon.

I knocked quietly and pitched my voice low through the door. “Mia babe it’s me. Let me in.”

Silence. I frowned and pressed my ear to the door. “Honey, are you in there? Jo said you ran off at the mall.”

If I hadn’t heard the soft rustle of fabric and the low tones of the television set I would have thought no one was inside. But it was there, a whisper of sound from someone moving around. When Mia was upset, and hiding from the world, she dove into movies and wouldn’t emerge for days.

“I know you’re in there.” I knocked again, a loud clap that told her in no uncertain terms that I wasn’t leaving. Not until she said something.

“Leave me alone.” Mia’s voice was raspy, holding a broken quality that spoke of hours spent crying.

What had brought her to tears? Who was I going to have to kill? Worry and helpless rage built inside my chest. I wished Mia would lean on me when she was feeling out of sorts. Maybe, in a few years, she would come to me instead of turning into a hermit. Our relationship was still too new to expect her to reach out to me first. I’d prove to her that she could trust me with her hurt.

“I’m not going to leave you alone. Not when you’re upset.” I rattled the door. “Come on angel, open the door.”

Mia’s voice sounded closer, and I could almost picture her behind the door wrapped in a fleece blanket and sadness.

“This isn’t happening, Regi.” Her voice was flat, lacking any affect; dead and lifeless; a monotone that scared the fuck out of me. When Mia was upset, she wrapped herself up in her emotions. She lived them and then exorcised them. I’d never heard her sound so hollow.

“What isn’t happening?” Something monumental had happened. What had transpired at the Mall?

“Us,” she whispered.

Fuck. I closed my eyes and braced my forehead to the solid wooden door. “Mia, don’t do this. Talk to me.”

Shadows slipped into the hallway in the shape of spikes; the slight silhouette of moving feet beneath the door. Mia’s voice was closer, a hoarse rasp that spoke of pain and tears swallowed like vials of acid.

“There’s nothing to say. I was stupid for thinking I could do this. I’m nobody. I’m nothing. You deserve someone better.”

I inhaled sharply. I knew I could break the door down. But her neighbors would likely call the police on me, and I didn't want to agitate my already emotionally fragile girl. “We’ve been doing great. You promised you’d give us a chance. You promised me six months. Don’t do this, please.”

I couldn’t control the bitterness which seeped through my words. I thought we were past this push-pull aspect of our relationship. I didn’t want to be caught in the break-up/make-up cycle. That was left to high-school and drama mongers.

“We were.” Her voice was loudest it had been, signifying how close she was. Only the door separated us. I pressed my palm flat as if I could touch her through the wood grain.

“Then let me in. Let me take this pain from you.” My poor girl. Her pain was visceral; almost a tangible entity born in every word she uttered.

Silence rippled through the fragile connection I was attempting to foster with her. I stood on pins-and-needles, and mentally implored her to let me gather the shattered pieces and hold them close. I would be shelter for her in this storm.

“I can’t.” There weren’t even tears in her voice as she broke my heart anew. Just a calm finality. “Goodbye, Regi.”

“Fuck that, Mia. No fucking way. Open the door.” I shook the knob, threatening mortal violence to the stupid fucking thing keeping me away from Mia.

She didn’t answer me. No matter how much I banged on the door. She’d cut me out of her life again, carved me from her heart.

I would have stayed there hammering on Mia’s door if her neighbor hadn’t popped out.

“If you don’t leave I’m calling the cops,” the old biddy snapped, scowling at me over the frame of her glasses.

Shit. I stepped away, at war with what I should do. Every fiber of my being told me to break the damn door down and rescue my damsel. But this wasn’t a fairytale. This was life, and that sort of behavior would earn me a trip down to the clink.

Fuck me sideways. Raking a hand through my hair, I gave the women a curt nod. “Sorry.”

“I don’t care if you’re sorry. Just stop making a ruckus, I can’t hear my shows.” Her face fell into disapproving folds and then she dipped back into her apartment with a loud bang.

I cast one more look at Mia’s door. I slapped it one more time. “Fucking hell, Mia. This isn’t over.”

Then I turned and left; every footstep heavier than the other; leaden shoes encasing my feet as I walked away from Mia’s apartment.

There was one place I had to go, and then I would be back.

**

“I need the key, Jo.” I paced through the living room in the apartment Jo shared with Angela. I’d been over a few times, back when Angela and I were fuck-buddies, but I hadn’t been inside since that ended last year.

Jo chewed on the edge of her nail, almost ripping stripes off the cuticle with her agitation. “That would be betraying Mia’s trust. She told you she didn’t want to see you, right?”

I spun on my feet, wanting to shake the purple-haired girl in front of me. “She’s not in her right mind!”

Jo’s brow rose, and her eyes grew icy. “Why? Because she broke up with you?”

“Fine, then you come. Open the door, go in, make sure she’s alright.”

“You know how she is. When she’s upset, she turns into a popcorn-munching, movie-aholic hermit. She’ll be fine.” Jo hauled herself to her slipper-clad feet — were those fucking cats? — and joined me in pacing.

“You didn’t hear her, Jo. She didn’t sound fine.”

I didn’t hear Angela leave her bedroom until her voice snapped like a whiplash. “Just give him the key. I’m tired of hearing you two bicker.”

If I hadn’t known what Angela sounded like, I would never have realized the girl in the hallway was my ex-fling.

She’d changed drastically in forty-eight hours. Her hair was gone, leaving a soft pale-blonde peach fuzz covering her scalp. It was sexy, in the way that the model Amber Rose, was. Except I don’t think she’d done it to attract attention but to downplay her looks. She wore a heavy black tunic and baggy jeans. Her pale blue eyes were sharp and hard, haunted by the rings of depression beneath them. Angela had always been thin, but her cheekbones were razor sharp above the hollows beneath them. Had she eaten in the past two days? Fuck, the doctor in me rose to the forefront, and it took everything I can to curb it. I didn’t think she’d appreciate me giving her orders to eat and get help.

Jo paled when she saw her roomie. “I didn’t know you were home.”

“Give him the key, alright?” Angela spun around and stalked back to her bedroom. The door slammed shut with a loud BANG.

Both of us were stunned into silence.

“She needs help,” I finally said. I knew the signs. If she wasn’t spinning out, she was teetering on the line. Shit, I’d been a counselor for the HelpLine after all.

Jo offered me a jerky nod. While she was studying to be a therapist, I think this above her knowledge. Angela needed a real PH.D. “Yes.”

I swallowed. “Will you give me the key to Mia’s apartment, please Jo?”

I hated that I sounded as if I were begging, but right about now, I’d do anything to help my girl. I didn’t want her to turn into a wisp of herself like Angela currently was.

Jo’s eyes strayed down the hallway. “Okay. Give me a minute.”

I paced around Jo’s living room as she disappeared into her bedroom. It was only a few seconds, but it felt like hours until she returned. She handed me a pink gemstone keychain with a single key suspended from it.

I held my hand out for her. Jo gripped it as indecision warred over her face. Finally, she dropped it into my waiting palm.

Her eyes searched mine. “Go save our girl, Regi.”

I nodded, and then bolted from Jo’s apartment.

Mia might think I would just accept her “breaking up” with me in good grace. But that shit wasn’t happening anymore. I’d let her go once when we’d gone off to college. I didn’t chase her or pursue her like I should have when I came to the University of Wisconsin-Madison. And I hadn’t chased her the entire year after she’d stormed out of my apartment.

This time, I was doing things differently.