June 30, 2016

Today marked the last day of the semester. I should feel great, after all, I did ace all my final tests, and did great on all my classes of the semester, even Family Law.

But it also meant, that was it.

I would no longer see her face three times a week while she so passionately taught her lessons. I would no longer have an excuse to drive together to campus with her.

Her sister had said it in the beginning of the month, I would not be Cecilia's student for much longer, but back then I did not realize what that really meant for us.

I am not so sure there will be much of a friendship left for us to have once the break is over. And now, more than ever, I know I will not ever get my chance.

The last few weeks, since Cecilia's incident on that hideous night served only to bring us closer to each other. I made her feel safe—she said—and having her in my presence brought me peace of mind.

Contradictory enough, I could feel she was having to put an enormous amount of effort not to let her girlfriend's jealously get in the way. But I guess the doctor won in the end.

Miranda was taking advantage of the school break—which also meant Cecilia's break—to put distance between the professor and me. I could see she was fed up with having me around.

She was taking Cecilia to Cancun.

I had to face it, no one takes their girlfriend to a paradisiac beach abroad, for a month, unless they are planning on proposing.

Lucy and I got closer as well. She was a much-needed friend in a moment like this. I had come to terms with how hard I had fallen for her sister. I did not even have to tell her, apparently it was all over my face whenever I looked at Cecilia—Lucy's words.

I did not feel like talking about it with Nay or Amy, because I knew they would just trash talk the professor and that would only serve to upset me.

So, there was Lucy, someone who knew the both of us, whom I could talk about my feelings without being worried it would harm the professor's career, and who hated Miranda just as much as I did.

Lucy was pissed Cecilia even agreed on going to their romantic trip when not even a month ago she was talking about how fed up she was with the doctor's jealousy outbursts.

Being around Lucy also meant being around her daughter and her husband. Getting to know them and interact with their family just helped to make me think about the other Bailey even more.

Lucy's daughter had taken a liking on me. She was the sweetest little girl and looked so much like her aunt. Then again, the sisters did look alike, if someone saw the three of them together, they would not be able to tell for sure which one was the mother.

I remember on the first day, when Cecilia—back then still just Professor Bailey to me—had decided to show her course syllabus to the class, and when the screen of her laptop got projected on the board the first thing I saw, was the background picture consisted of her and her niece hugging in the ocean—just we all thought it was her daughter.

One hundred and fifty-one days later, and here I stood, having unrequested feelings for my professor, just she was not my professor any longer.

What she is now though, is soon to be engaged.

Tomorrow she would be gone. She had made sure to say goodbye earlier. I guess she knew Miranda would not take her coming up to my apartment to do so.

The doctor had no idea about our lunch today, and I was glad she was clueless. The last thing I needed was for my soon-to-be neighbor hating me even more.

Cecilia had called Lucy and invited her to have lunch with us, not that I minded at all—I knew what was coming because Lucy had told me about Cancun, a week prior.

During lunch, I was almost sure Cecilia was waiting on us to convince her not to go, she kept asking us if we thought it was a good idea for her to go.

What was she expecting me to say? Honestly? I am sure she knew how I felt about her. Was she seriously hoping I would beg for her to stay?

I was upset and frustrated, my world seemed like it was falling apart. I knew what it meant for her to go.

I would be the one who would have to suffer whenever I crossed paths with her and Miranda around the building and saw a ring on each of their hands. I could win the best friend, the sister, the niece, the whole fucking family for that matter, the only one I would never win was the one that counted.

So now I am writing and drinking—fuck this treatment, I am going to drinking my sorrows. I have not had a fucking sip of alcohol in months. In my defense though, I did ask permission for my new doctor—yeah, I am no longer Miranda's patient—and he said I could drink as long as I did not take my medication today and tomorrow.

—//—

This was interesting. I do not usually stop writing midthought, but I guess today called for it. Two hours since I wrote the paragraph above.

I had intended on writing my feelings down while I drank them away. But that was before Cecilia decided to show up on my door.

Now I am all sobered up, either because of the time that has passed since my last glass of wine or because of the catharsis that happened in my living room.

Apparently, I sent a drunk message to the professor. I had not eaten anything since lunch, I had not had a drink in months and I am indeed a light drinker, which meant I was not all that surprised when I learned I had done that.

There was a knock on my door—I almost thought it was my imagination, until it happened again.

I was in no state to greet anyone, I had only a long black sweater, that went all the way down my butt cheeks, and underwear on. But I was drunk, so that did not stop me from opening the door without checking who it was.

I guess she was ready to scream on my face and call me whatever, but that was until she noticed I was drunk.

"You are drinking?" She closed the door behind her taking the glass that was on my hand to smell the liquid in it.

"No way, really?" I said sarcastically. I was drunk.

"You know you are not supposed to drink! What the fuck is wrong with you?" Once again, drunk—fair warning.

"You are! Why are you on my face about this? My new doctor, who isn't the trash you are getting engaged to, told me I could drink, all I have to do is skip a couple days of pills."

She was furious. I cannot say what was pissing her off the most though: the mention of the possible engagement, me calling her girlfriend trash, or the fact I was drinking.

"Sit." She was so sexy when she was bossy, I wanted to kiss her, I did as she said though, and sat with my arms crossed­—she still had my glass in her possession.

I think I fell asleep for just a second, because when I opened my eyes again, she had pulled a reversed Jesus' mojo on me.

She handed me my glass, but when I drank from it, instead of wine it was water. I did not complain though, I felt thirsty, and the water was welcomed.

Next, she pushed a plate with pasta and sauce on it for me to eat—okay, maybe I did sleep for more than a second—, I did not ask any questions and just ate what was given to me.

"Feeling like yourself again?" She asked once I was done with the food. I did feel like myself, I also felt lost. I had no idea what had happened after she told me to sit—that is what I thought or better yet, thought out loud.

"You told me to fuck off and leave you alone with your wine and tears, because that was all I was good for." I could feel myself freaking out inside.

"I wouldn't have done all this for me if I had been in your shoes." I motioned to the now empty plate and glass.

"Let's be honest, I've treated you worse than that, and I had no alcohol on my system to put the blame on." She was being too sweet, but she was also very much right.

"I'm guessing you don't remember sending me a message asking me not to leave." That was the understatement of the year. Kudos for my drunken self though, she had more balls than my sober one.

"Not really, no. Did I get you in trouble with Miranda for that? I'm sorry." I was not sorry though.

"Not really. She didn't see it, I deleted it before she could. She did get furious when I told her I had to go somewhere so late at night, when according to her we were supposed to be sleeping so we don't miss our flight in the morning."

At least the doctor was not happy, I could live with that small victory.

"You do know nothing's gonna change between us, right?" I was still a little drunk so when she said that I did not know how to take it. Was she talking about her and I or about her and the doctor? Guess confusion was written all over my face.

"I know Miranda gets jealous of you, but that's because she still thinks you and I had a thing when we broke up. I won't let her jealousy get in the way of my friendships, even if she proposes like you are assuming." Sure... I honestly did not understand why she was having the trouble of saying those things.

"When you come back it will all be different." I did not mean to take her effort for granted but that was the ugly truth—Miranda knew exactly the step-by-step to come in between a friendship like ours.

"You told me all about this woman. You told me how you had crushed on her all throughout your early twenties while you watched your friend fall in and out of love with every guy who troubled her with a smile." She had opened to me about their love story weeks ago.

Cecilia and Miranda had met on Miranda's last year of med school, and Cecilia's second year of law school. Miranda was the typical straight friend every queer girl falls for, and in this particular case, the queer girl so happened to have been Cecilia.

For years she was the friend Miranda could cry about her failed love stories. That was, until one day the story did not end up with a broken heart but instead with a positive pregnancy test and a ring.

The husband was not half as blind as his wife, so he made sure to come in between their friendship until that was pretty much over. It was a smart move. They did stay married for, I think, fifteen years or so. They would probably have stayed that way if it were not for the second wedding of a mutual friend, and a last-minute work trip.

Miranda's husband was not able to be her plus one to her friend's wedding and so she went alone. And without him there to keep Cecilia away, the two women just naturally started talking again.

The drinks helped the words come out from both friends. Cecilia told Miranda about all those years of unrequested feelings. Miranda told Cecilia about her failed wedding that she felt trapped to, and the suppressed feeling that maybe it had kept her from living all she was meant to live.

After that they started secretly talking again. Although the professor had told the doctor about her youth's crush, she made it very clear those were feelings long forgotten. But the doctor was all for the trip down memory lane.

So, Miranda insisted and persisted, until one day she convinced Cecilia she was serious about trying. She had left the husband.

And then there we were. Cecilia trying to convince me that the woman, who had left her husband to be with another woman after fifteen years of marriage, whose husband had unconsciously taught her all there was to know about pushing the wife's friends away, that, that same woman would have to be okay with us being friends.

That was wishful thinking.

Cecilia might be blind to how I feel about her, but Miranda is not. If anything, they would probably have a new place to call home by the time they came back from Cancun. Miranda was a successful doctor after all, and money was not an issue.

"You should go." I said after a while of us just staring at each other. "I'll be okay, and so will you. I'm sorry for the drunken message." We were then standing in front of my door. She turned to look me once again, before leaning in for a long hug.

"I'll see you in a month." She whispered in my ear. Cecilia leaned back and went to call for the elevator. Once she was inside, she turned to look at me, and as the walls started to close, I decided it was best to rip the band-aid off.

"Make no mistakes, Cee. This is a goodbye. I hope you're doing the right thing." The doors closed, and with them so did this chapter of my life.

When she comes back, she will be engaged. For this next month I have a job and one job only. I need to get over my professor.

Remi

Do you know what it's like to wish you could forget your own feelings? That's what I wished for when you left with her. I was in love then. I don't know how I feel anymore.