Miller Time

Let's continue, shall we?

We went to separate colleges. He was...I don't know...maybe 9 hours away from me. We talked every night at first. Then it dwindled to maybe every other night. It was always several times a week, though. We both got into the swing of college...made friends...all that crap. I think we both adjusted easily, except for missing each other. I had a cork board right over my bed in my dorm room. It was plastered with pictures of the two of us. People asked constantly, "Is this the boyfriend back home?" Nope. It was Miller. Of course I also had pictures of Bo, and we were still together. So were Miller and Pepper.

Then shortly after Christmas break our freshman year, Bo and I broke up. LONG, weird story that I promise to tell you later. It's a good story - and my good I mean heartbreakingly interesting. Anyway, the first person I called was Miller. I don't even know how he understood me. I was sobbing uncontrollably. I remember him saying a lot of, "Uh huh...yeah..sorry...I know." Well, I started to get pissy because I thought he really wasn't listening. He was shocked I would think this, "Are you fucking kidding me? I'm not talking much because I'm concentrating on packing, you moron! You think I'm letting you go through this alone? I'll see you in 9 hours."

And he did. He showed up at my dorm 9 hours later looking absolutely exhausted. He had forgotten one detail. Guys couldn't stay overnight in the girls' dorms, so we drove to a hotel. I cried all night, and he just held me. That's it. No sex, no kissing, he just held me and let me cry.

After this we visited each other as often as we could, and we met in Stupidly Small Town during our breaks, but we did sort of lessen our grip on each other. I started dating DB, and he started dating some moody chick...so we didn't stay in touch quite as often. We were still close, though, and when DB proposed I asked Miller to be in the wedding.

Then came the big day. At some point I found myself alone in that stupid little room in the front of the church, and I was starving. I realized I hadn't really eaten anything all day. And as soon as this thought popped in my head, there was a knock on the door. It was Miller. He had snuck into the reception early and grabbed crackers and drinks. We were now alone in that stupid little room. I guess I was a little nervous because I was babbling and scarfing down crackers. Eventually, he interrupted me.

Miller: "Don't marry him."
Me: "What did you just say?"
Miller: "Don't marry him. He's not right for you."
Me: "What the hell is wrong with you? Of course he's right for me."
Miller: "I know you better than anyone. You have doubts."
Me: "I do not."
Miller: "You do. Don't marry him."
Me: "What if I did have doubts? What am I supposed to do? Tell my dad thanks for paying for all this shit, but I'm out?"
Miller: "Your dad wouldn't care if you weren't sure about this. And you're not sure."
Me: "So, you expect me to do what exactly?"
Miller: "Leave."
Me: "Leave? Leave my own wedding? Just jump in my car and shove this big ass white dress in the driver's seat and leave my own damn wedding?"
Miller: "Leave. But not on your own. Leave with me."
Me: "You're insane."

And then my dad walked in and told me it was time. I looked up, and Miller was gone. My dad took one look at me and said, "You don't have to do this you know." But I said, "I want to." And then those double doors opened, I walked down the aisle, and married the douchebag.

And we never really kept in touch again. He made one trip to see me 4 years later. By this time, DB and I had kids. It was an odd visit. He just kept repeating, "You have kids. And a husband." And then the visit was over. I tried calling. I tried emailing. He never responded. Then, my mother died. It was the worst point in my life. And he didn't call. I heard from people I barely knew, but he didn't call. His mom and dad called, came to the hospital, came to the funeral. I never heard from him. It killed me. It remains a very sore subject with me. Soon after this, I heard he was getting married. I never got an invitation. Finally, his mom called me (we were very close) and said, "Please come. For me. I'm sending an invitation (this was a week before the wedding). I don't know why he couldn't send one, but please come. I need you there." So, I went. I hadn't seen him in years. He looked great. The bride, however, did not. She has a big nose and is in serious need of some makeup tips and highlights. I call her Vanilla. Yes, I realize I am biased and in a very pissy mood tonight, whatever. I'm sure she's a lovely person.

I approached him at the reception. I said congratulations. He said he needed a beer. I followed him. I am not entirely proud of what happened next.

Me: "What happened?"
Miller: "It's not all my fault. You haven't called in years either."
Me: "My MOTHER died, you asshole. You should've been there or at least called me. Everyone came by. But not you. I watched that hospital door for a week hoping you'd walk through it. You never came. You never even called. You missed her funeral."
Miller: "Annabelly, I'm at my fucking wedding."
Me: "Which you didn't invite me to. Your mother did."
Miller: "Yeah...she still thinks you and I should be together...but I'm marrying Vanilla. I'm at my wedding, Annabelly. Remember weddings? Remember your wedding? Don't get mad at me. You got married first. You got married and had kids and changed everything."

Then he walked off. I didn't see him or hear from him until last night. And last night sucked.

Sucks to be me,
Annabelly.