The Mia Cure

Saturday, January 10, midnight
I'm now thoroughly convinced that the cure for all ills is Mia's voice. I have to admit, when I went out there to see what Lilly was screaming about, and she goes, "Phone," I sort of expected it to be Mia. But since she didn't say anything about it being Mia (like "your lifemate," in a disdainful tone) I thought it more likely was Boris. She talks to Boris almost every night and I thought he might have wanted to chat with me for a minute about the band. So I picked up the phone and went, "Hello?" kind of uncertainly, but curious.
Imagine my delight when I was greeted with, "Michael, it's me"!!!! Suddenly, I was soaring in the clouds, doing backflips and somersaults without becoming at all tangled in my cape. That's how Mia's voice makes me feel. Invincible.

Immediately, she went off all apologetic about forgetting my birthday. I'll admit it. I was a little hurt that she didn't call, but tonight she was so sweet and adorable, telling me she must be the worst girlfriend ever and all this other nonsense, all I could do was laugh! I told her not to be ridiculous. I didn't expect her to be able to call me whenever she wanted to because I understood the weight of the demands on her time over there. This is basically how our conversation went:

Mia -- Michael, it's me.
Me -- Mia! How are you?
Mia -- I'm OK. Listen, Michael, I can't believe I missed your birthday. I suck. I can't believe how much I suck. I am the most horrible person who ever walked the face of the planet.

That's Mia. Only she can turn a forgotten birthday phone call into a crime against humanity.

Me -- Oh that's all right. I know you're busy over there. And there's that time-zone thing, and all. So. How's it going? Has your grandmother let you off for that parking-meter thing, or is she still on your case about it?
Mia -- You know it. So tell me about your birthday. Did you do anything fun?
Me -- It was a disaster! Well, except for my new laptop. But Lilly was a real pain in the ass, and my grandparents insisted on us all going to Red Lobster. You know how much I hate chain restaurants. Needless to say, this experience didn't change my sentiments.
Mia -- Why? What happened?
Me -- Well, it turns out Lilly is allergic to shellfish. She had this seriously alarming reaction so we all jumped up and rushed her to the Promptcare. Now she has to carry a syringe filled with adrenaline everywhere just in case she starts swelling up like Violet in Willy Wonka. 
Mia -- Oh my god.
Me -- Yeah. Nothing but that could have made me forgive her for being such a pain.
Mia -- Aw, you know you love her deep down.
Me -- Right. Whatever you say.
Mia -- So you got a new computer to go with your new color printer?
Me -- Yeah. It's very nice. It's the new powerbook. 17 inch screen, 500 gigs. There is also this cool music-recording software on it that will be great for the band.
Mia -- What band?
Me -- Oh yeah. I'm forming a band with some of the guys from the computer club.
Mia -- Wow!
Me -- Yeah. I have to do something with myself now that the minions of Bill Gates have silenced me.
Mia -- Are you really giving up Crackhead?
Me -- Yep.
Mia -- Shoot. I love that 'zine. I've been a faithful subscriber since I was like ten.
Me -- Well, you know, it was fun while it lasted. So I have a new email now. It's LinuxRulz, with a 'z.'

All of a sudden, Mia let out this yawn and it dawned on me what time it had to be over there. Until then, I was so caught up in the thrill of talking to her (we always have so much to say to each other) I didn't even think about the six-hour time difference.

Me -- Hey, isn't it like four in the morning there?
Mia -- Yes.
Me -- Well, you'd better get to bed. Unless you get to sleep in. But I bet you have stuff to do tomorrow, right?
Mia -- Oh. Just a ribbon-cutting ceremony at the hospital. And then lunch with the Genovian Historical Society. And then a tour of the Genovian zoo. And then dinner with the minister of culture and his wife.
Me -- Oh, my god. Do you have to do that kind of stuff every day?
Mia -- Uh-huh.

She sounded dreamy, like she was all happy and cozy. I had the sudden urge to reach across the ocean and wrap my arms around her.

Me -- Mia, you'd better get some sleep. You have another huge day ahead of you.
Mia -- OK.
Me -- I mean it, Mia. Hang up the phone and go to bed.
Mia -- You hang up first.

My heart melted. I couldn't stand to hang up first. I couldn't stand to say goodbye to her.

Me -- No. You hang up first.
Mia -- No. You.
Me -- No. You.

"Both of you hang up." That was Lilly on another phone. "I have to call Boris before his nightly Benadryl kicks in."

So I had to say good night to Mia without saying what I desperately wanted to say, which is that I love her, because I can't say that with my sister listening on another end.

9 days until I see my girl again. 9 DAYS!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!