Mr. Busybody

The next morning, I woke up earlier than expected to go for a jog. I needed to clear my head. I had approximately two months left before my deadline, and I desperately needed to figure out how to recalibrate my plans moving forward. As the brisk morning air brushed against my face, I thought about the one person who’d had the foresight to predict this situation years ago. I stopped at the end of the street to catch my breath and scrolled through my contacts, searching for her name. I hoped her insight would somehow offer me the guidance that I needed.

“Hello?” a familiar voice greeted me on the other end.

“Annie! Hey, it’s Leila.”

“Leila! What a surprise! Let me put you on hold for a second; I’m just finishing up a quick call.”

As I waited for her to return, I stretched out my calves on the edge of the curb. Ever since I got caught up in all the marriage stuff, I felt stuck in this continuous cycle of disappointment. I had forgotten how good it felt to just be outdoors, away from all the distractions.

“Leila? You there?” Annie’s voice broke through my thoughts.

“Let me guess, you were planning another adventurous getaway? Where to this time?” I asked. Although it had been a while since we last talked, we followed each other on social media, so I knew enough from Annie’s posts to know that she led a pretty cool life as a freelance travel blogger.

“Palau. At the end of the month. I’m going to swim with the jellyfish.”

“I don’t even know where that is, but I would be open to trading lives,” I offered.

Annie laughed. “How’s teaching going?”

“I mean, the pay sucks. And I’m up to my ears in grading. But just the other day, one of my students told me how he aced the English portion of his ACTs because of my class.” I grinned. “It’s kind of cool to know they’re learning something.”

“You were always great with kids. Remember that orphanage visit you planned during our spring break in Cancún?”

“I think you were the only one who agreed to come with me! Everyone else just wanted to lie on the beach.”

“Can you imagine? Wanting to relax on vacation. Ugh.” Annie laughed. “So when are you going to teach abroad? I thought that was the plan?”

“I guess I’ve been preoccupied with some other stuff . . .” I trailed off.

“Do tell.” I could imagine Annie leaning in closer to the phone.

I sighed. “My parents gave me a three-month deadline to find a husband. And I kind of agreed. And now I’m already almost a month in, and Mr. Perfect still hasn’t shown up yet.”

Annie remained quiet on the other end. I wondered what she was thinking. She probably thought I had lost my mind.

“Well.” She finally let out a small whistle. “I see not much has changed,” she said, a hint of disappointment in her voice. “Leila, when are you going to realize that Mr. Perfect doesn’t exist?”