Category:

Namby?

My blood runs cold.

Only one person ever calls me that annoying nickname. Jae Lee.

My former high school nemesis. The boy who barely beat me out for valedictorian and two different scholarships I wanted. Badly. The boy rich enough, it was rumored, to pay someone to take the SAT for him. Twice. Jae was always about 'Jae.' To make matters worse, he isn't even a nerd. He was stupidly, wildly popular in school, a popularity I could never hope to achieve with my penchant for gobbling up extra credit and always raising my hand in class. His popularity continues today on all major social platforms, which I'm absolutely, positively not following him on.

Jae? I write, even though I know it's him. Nobody else calls me Namby.

 

I don't know...the antichrist? Whenever you're around it does feel like end of times, I type back. And how did you get my number?

Oh, no. Not in this lifetime.

I'll tell you all about the move when we catch up. I'll see you very soon, he types.

Not if I see you coming first, I type back.

He sends me a laugh-crying emoji. And a devil emoji.

I don't have time for this nonsense. I've got a company to save.

Leave it to Jae to have rotten timing. I haven't talked to him since high school graduation. And I've been carefully avoiding him for years. I glance at the devil emoji on my phone. See me soon? I glance around as if he might pop out of my filing cabinet. Why on earth does he want to see me? And why is he tracking my birthday? It makes me think he's been working on some kind of horrible prank that'll be filmed and showcased at our next class reunion. There can be no good reason he remembered my birthday.

Maybe there are clues online. I could check his social.

I glance at my laptop. I've been largely avoiding every platform ever since I announced the wedding with Mitch was off. I asked for privacy eighteen months ago, but of course, it was just like pouring gasoline on the fire. Nobody gave me privacy. Somebody even unearthed a blurry video of Mitch, enthusiastically getting familiar with a blonde in the back of his bachelor party neon bus. A couple of people posted it and tagged me, along with their weak condolences and barely disguised gloating. The worst part was it was shared, gleefully, again and again...and again. I've always known that I was not popular in school (someone has to be hall monitor), but honestly, until this last year and a half, I never actually realized there were so many people out there rooting for me to fail.

I was the smoldering roadside wreck everybody gawked at for months.

But I have to look at the social media I've been avoiding now. I have to see what Jae's doing. Maybe there's a clue on one of his accounts about seeing me "soon." Maybe something less nefarious like a mutual friend's wedding?

I haven't checked up on Jae in years. For a split second, I imagine maybe his life isn't as perfect as I imagine it to be. Maybe he is also whiffing at his social life. Although I can't imagine Mr. Prom King ever having that kind of issue. Maybe he has a gambling problem. Maybe even a rare, nonfatal disease. Or even an untreatable recurring rash. On his face. My mind goes down a terrible rabbit hole of bleak outcomes for Jae, anything that might make me feel better about my own life.

I'm not proud of this, okay?

I get that I shouldn't wish bad things for people. Even for people like Jae.

I pull up his account and peer at his public posts. Immediately, I realize my mistake. There will be no gleeful tale of woe in Jae's profile. Why would I think that? The golden boy is still...golden. And worse, he's gotten better-looking with age. Brilliant-white dimpled smile still perfect. Not one missing tooth. Not one. And he still has all his thick, black hair.

Look, he just got a new car. A sleek, expensive-looking silver Audi that would make Tony Stark jealous. Fantastic. And look there, that's him moving back home to Chicago. Did he really write #SweetHomeChicago like a tourist fool? Ugh. There's him relaxing on the balcony of his obscene Gold Coast condo in the brand-new high-rise everyone's talking about overlooking Lake Michigan. His place makes my Old Town two-bedroom apartment look like the dark, wet corner of a dumpster.

Also, why are almost all his posts public? Braggy, much?

I scroll through more posts. Where is he even working? He doesn't say in the public posts I can see. But whatever he's doing, it pays well enough to frequent all the Michelin star restaurants. I feel nauseous. There seems to be a new gorgeous influencer model on his arm every week, even though he only moved here less than a year ago. Of course. Jae Lee never went dateless in his life. And all his ex-girlfriends beg to be friends with him afterward, too, based on all the hearted messages. Wait. I peer at my phone. He went on safari? In Africa? Posed with wildlife conservationists? There's an actual lion in this picture. A lion!

And... Paris.

Wait. He went to freakin' Paris.

I feel hollowed out and sad as he's perched near the base of the Eiffel Tower, arms outstretched, huge smile on his face.

My stomach twists with envy.

Paris was where I was supposed to go on my honeymoon.