After speaking with Mr. Chen and scouting out the area, I decided to take the job.  The opportunity to be a lead writer was too good to pass up.  My friends will miss me and I will miss them but I would be lying if I said that this whole thing didn’t excite the socks off of me.

Beyond the Life is an eccentric magazine that deals with the not-so-living, otherwise known as dead.  The writers on staff investigate ghost stories and other eccentric stories that have to do with a mythical and almost un-talked about realm in life.  In short, the job is a little spooky.  Then again, i’ve always been one to delve into the unknown even if I don’t believe.

The cool air of the evening began to creep in through the apartment windows.  I shuddered just a little while  stacking the final box against the others.  I stood back to look at my progress.  Packed in a week.  Not bad for a single gal.  Though thankfully, my worldly possessions at this point in my life consists of clothes, accessories, a bed, a couch, a table and various kitchen gadgets.

A soft knock sounded at the door.  I shook myself out of my thoughts and made my way to the door.  One look in the peephole told me that it was Sean.  Damn.  What is he doing here?

“Just a minute!”  I sang and then grabbed a button up sweater out of the closet.  I slipped it on and pulled it tightly around me.  Slowly I opened the door and gave Sean what I hope looked like a curious look.  Though what I was really thinking was “how dare you not call me and then just show up out of the blue”.

He looked nervous and unsure.  Good.  He should be unsure.  Jerk.

“Mm-ia.  Hi.”  He stammered this out and then looked at the ground.

“Hey.  Uhm… how are you?”  I said this as calmly as I could secretly hoping that the venomous feelings I had toward him at the moment didn’t drip out onto the last sentence.

“Look.  I know that I didn’t call and it’s been… what… a month?”

I was about to reply when he held up his hand.

“Just hear me out.  I have had some really disturbing things happen to me in the last month.  These things prohibited me from calling you.  Can we go inside while I explain?”  His eyes started to smart and he bit down on his lip.  He looked so… so… broken.

I sighed, “sure.  Come on in.”  He edged his way in the door and sat down on my couch.  It took him a moment to realize that the apartment looked bare and that there was a giant wall of boxes just a few feet in front of him.

“Are you going somewhere?”

“Yes.  I have a new job and am moving to Boston in two days.”  I handed him a mug of hot cocoa.  He didn’t ask for it, but I figured the chill of the evening deserved something warm.

Absently, he took the mug, looking even more distraught.  This left me wishing that he would get on with it.  I had a feeling that I should not rush him, but my natural afflection toward impatience lead me to unbite my tongue.  So I let him have it.

“Look, Sean.  What do you want?  I haven’t heard from you in a month.  I made an idiot of myself by calling you and leaving countless messages on your machine.  I was worried but apparently I had no reason to worry because you “look” fine.  I’m sure you had your reasons for not calling.  But the fact of the matter is, I am moving far from here.  Whatever we had doesn’t factor in anymore.  State your business and then please leave.”

My cold blue eyes looked at him warily.

He sighed and said… “I know where you took your job.  I’m telling you this is a mistake.  A big mistake.  If you take this job Mia, i’m afraid, you’ll die.”

The quiet hum of the computer screen put me in a trance.  I had been at the CNO (college news office)  for 7 hours now.  The cursor blinked at the end of a lone paragraph.  I had a small assignment to finish.  An article detailing the festival of food, which was held last weekend.  The festival was held every year around the same time, typically after the first weekend of spring.  It was the highlight of the season.

The smells wafting from each food tent were hard to resist.  I must have sampled from every vendor.  The proceeds usually went for a good cause.  Barnable College, the school I attend, had their own cluster of stands as well.  Sororities, fraternities and other groups on campus participated at the festival as a means to raise money for each organization.  From what I heard, they usually made out like fat rats.

Still, as I sit here trying to write the article, I find that a brick wall has permanently blocked anything coherent.  I hate writers block.  The festival, while fun, leaves much to desire as it was not action-packed.  Well, at least not to me.  It was my assignment and I was determined to finish it… if only the words would come.

As I placed my fingers lightly over the keys to begin again, my cell phone began to vibrate.

“Hello, this is Mia.”

“Hello, miss Reynolds… I mean Mia.  This is Stephen Chu from “Beyond the Life” magazine.”   As he finished his greeting I detected a mixture of Boston and Asian accent.  It was so intriguing.  I love unique accents.

“Hello Mr. Chu.  What can I do for you this evening?”

“We recently received your resume in the mail.  I must say, we were very impressed with the sample clippings you sent.  Some of the best writing we’ve seen in awhile.”

“Well, thank you Mr. Chu!  Writing is my passion.”

“I will cut to the chase Miss Reynolds.  We want you to come aboard as a staff writer for Beyond the Life.  We think that you will be an added value to our organization.”  He sounded so sure.

“I would love to meet with you and discuss this opportunity further.  I would also like the chance to tour the office and get a feel for the company first.”  As I said this, I was a little afraid that I was being a bit too forward.  As excited as I was to get offered a job right out of the blue (sight unseen so to speak), I still needed to make sure it would work for me.

“Of course!  I apologize for throwing this on you so suddenly and sight unseen at that.  I have an eye for talent, so when I get a feeling about something, I jump in both feet.”  As he explained this, I could tell he was a little embarrassed as he didn’t sound as confident as he had only moments earlier.

“No apology needed Mr. Chu!  I am very excited about this opportunity!  When would you like to meet to discuss this further?”

“Will Friday afternoon work for you?  Say, around 4?”

I flipped through my calendar and noted that I was indeed free this Friday.  “Yes, Friday will out fine!”

He gave me the address and instructions to park in the parking garage located across the street from the main building.

After hanging up with Mr. Chu, my mind was buzzing with a million little details I would need to take care of before Friday.  What did a staff writer wear to an interview?  Which hotel should I stay in?  Should I stay the weekend or Friday only?

The screen saver clicked on and I was startled by the interruption.  Blinking my eyes a couple of times and rubbing my temples, I decided to save what I had and come at the article with fresh eyes in the morning.

As I walked out to the car, I called Chandra.  I had a big decision to make and I couldn’t think of anyone better to share the news with.

What the hell?

Well, as you may have guess it, this week closes with no phone call from Sean.  He has now been dubbed “Sean of the dead” by me.  The name caught on apparently, because now all of my friends have dubbed him that as well.

I decided not to call him.  As archaic as it may sound, I don’t want to call him for fear of sounding desperate.  Quite frankly, I don’t like to chase.  I want to be chased.  Having said that, I am in the acceptance stage of his no-call.  he has dropped off the face of the earth.  He is dead to me.

Though if I could just say this one more thing…

What is it when a guy says that he is going to call and then doesn’t?  Why is it acceptable that guys just do that?  I made the mistake of staying available and waiting for his call.  I put my eggs in one basket.  Like saying you are sure you got the job after an interview only to find out that you didn’t get the job.

Matty and I are going to a poetry reading at the Java Hut on Saturday night.  I love that she is bookish and artsy.   She is going to be reading a couple of her poems.  I have already read them and let me tell you, they are absolutely fabulous!  She enjoys writing but I think she secretly loves the technical stuff more.  She’ll never admit it for fear of sounding too nerdy, but I can tell.  I have a sixth sense about things.

I plan on using Sunday to revamp my resume.  I have decided to take the plunge and apply for a writing position with a newspaper.  It’s a ballsy move on my part because I will be looking for jobs outside of Cleveland and well, the whole state of Ohio.

I need a change.  Destiny is calling.

The title of this entry should tell you how my date with Sean went.  I am surprised (and pleasantly so I might add) that everything turned out so great.  We met up at Chili-Lime.  It’s the hot new restaurant in town.  When I first saw him, my breath literally floated out of my body on a cloud.  He looked …. delicious.  He stands about 6 feet tall, with sandy brown hair, friendly deep hazel eyes and a muscular build.  I love his eyes.  They sparkle like murky ocean jewels.  I could take a swim in those eyes and never want to leave.  In fact, when I think of him, I think of his eyes.

We actually have a lot in common.  He is a sports writer for a small publication called The Daily Journal.  He loves to write and is passionate about it.  So, we talked endlessly about our passion for writing and our goals in life.  Two large subjects that took up the better part of the date.  The rest of date we spent dancing.  He dragged me to Club Space.  Though this time, I wasn’t crazy drunk and I definitely remembered him at the end of the night.

He walked me back to my car and kissed me softly on the lips.  I held my breath the whole time and didn’t let it out until his sped away in his car.  I was floating on a cloud on the way home.  I was so deep in thought about the night’s events that I almost ran a red light.  Oops.

At the end of our date, he promised that we would do this again soon.  He said he would call, but I haven’t heard from him yet this week.  Chandra says that if a guy does not call after 48 hours, then he is disinterested.  I really hope that’s not the case because I really like Sean.

I am actually a little sad that I haven’t heard from him yet this week.  It plays on my mind like a record on repeat.  I keep thinking I missed something and that maybe I was only imagining the chemistry.  I am not known for my patience so waiting it out is hard for me.

Maybe I should call him?

I got a call tonight from a guy named Sean.  Apparently, I had a wonderful conversation with him at Club Space last Saturday night.  A conversation which I forgot… or blacked out… blocked out.  Whatever.  The point is, I was just a little bit freaked out by his phone call tonight.  I hardly know him.  I don’t even remember him.  Still, he has an adorable phone voice and seems really charismatic.  He says i’m cute (yay me!).  He asked me out. So of course I said… yes.  I know.. I know… what the hell?  Well, i’ve sort of been going through a dry spell.  Or more like a “no one shows interest spell.”   Chandra tells me it’s because I’m unapproachable.  She says I need to lighten up a little more and have fun.  I’m nervous around guys.  I never know what to say.

Amaya says she remembers Sean and that he was really cute.  Why she didn’t share this information during one of the dozens of conversations we had this week about last Saturday night, i’ll never know.  I asked her that same question, and she said that I don’t date so she didn’t think to ask.  What kind of answer is that?

So, i’m going to go on a date with Sean tomorrow night.  I’m more nervous than excited.  I keep telling myself that he must have been somewhat serviceable because I gave him my phone number.  But with God knows how many Long Island Ice Teas in me, i’m sure I would have found Jack-The-Ripper serviceable.  I’m what they call an eternally happy drunk.  I usually end up telling everyone that I love them about a million times and the warm fuzzies keep coming.  I’m a great conversationalist when i’m drunk.  NO really!  I never shut up.  Ever.  Until I pass out.  Good times.

I’m going shopping with Chandra and Amaya tomorrow for the appropriately hot date night outfit.  Because even if Sean is a dog, at least i’ll be smokin’!    Wish me luck.

Last night, Amaya dragged me to this hot new club in town called “Club Space”.  It is this exclusive, techno-club with three different floors.  What a trip!  The first floor had a couple of fortune teller tents.  You know, so that you can get your palm read and your future told.  I am quite a skeptic when it comes to intangible things.

Our first stop was to the O2 table to take shots of alcohol in brightly colored transparent oxygen-like tanks.  Then we moved out onto the dance floor and jumped up and down to the music.  Different scents of perfume and cologne wafted over to my nostrils, making me just a bit nauseous at times.  I gestured to Amaya that I was going to get a drink at the bar.  She acknowledged my gesturing by giving me a “thumbs up” sign.  She was engrossed in a sexy groove with a tall, dark and handsome guy.

I went to the bar on the first floor and grabbed a seat and ordered a long-island ice tea.  My poison.  I love them.  They are potent but I find them delicious.  I slammed the first one and then ordered a second.  I gazed around the room to scope out the scene when my eyes fell on the fortune-teller’s tent.

Being the goof that I am, I decided to saunter into the tent totally drunk, babbling about wanting to find my true love.

Unsteadily I walked over to the table and sat down (more like slumped) into the chair in front of Linda.  Not Madame Linda, or zsa zsa, just plain old Linda.  She had long blond hair which was parted down the middle.  She looked to be about 50.  The only thing youthful about her was her sparkling blue eyes that had a hint of mischeif in them.  She said nothing but lit a cigarette and eyed me up with a little skepticism of her own.  I giggled nervously (partially because I was drunk and partially because I get nervous when people quietly stare.  It is unnerving when I can’t tell what someone is thinking.).

She finished her cigarette and gestured for me to take her hand.  Then she asked me to write down my name, age and the names and ages of others that I wanted to enquire about.  I wrote down my name and age.  And then went blank and at a loss for other names.  Just then, she looked at me and said… “Write HER name down.”  I knew who she meant.  My friend.  My best friend.  The one who was dying.  I teared up and wrote her name down.  Then, I giggled again out of nervousness.

“Mia.” She said this and it sounded so smooth.  I half wondered if she would sound like a gypsie or if her voice would be brittled as fortune tellers and psychics are often depicted in movies.  But it wasn’t.  It was surprisingly smooth.

She got out her cards and started rapidly throwing them on the table, one after another.  When she was done.  She spread the pile out so that she could look at each card.  She fingered the one with the tower and drew her eyes slowly up to my face.  I had sobered up a little at this point so no giggling came out then.

“You are on a great journey to find your place in this world.  You want love but are scared of it.  Love will come.  As will adventure.”   She then traced her finger slowly back up to the card with the tower and sighed deeply.  She continued, “You will find fulfillment in your job.  However, you may also find your demise if you are not careful.  The career you are meant to have will be upon you soon.”

I could say nothing.  Everything she had said was so… so… vague.  How is one supposed to act when getting their fortune told?  Not knowing what else to say and not wanting to hear anymore, I slowly nodded.

Her eyes lowered then as she said quietly, “If you heed nothing else that I have said, know this…  you must beware of the man of the dark.”

Regaining some of my smart-assness, I replied… “So then, I should not count on finding true love at night.”

At that moment her eyes shifted to the piece of paper that I had written on.  “Now, we shall talk about HER.”

The way she said “HER” sent chills down my spine.  I wasn’t ready to know yet.  I wasn’t ready to handle it or even talk about it.

“She will live a long life, surprisingly.  You will always be close.  She will be in great despair soon.”

With that, Amaya came into the tent and yelled “HEY!  I was looking for you!  Let’s dance!”

I went back out onto the floor and got lost in the music and into more long islands.  I lost count toward the end of the night.

The rest of the night was kind of a blur.  I remember sharing a cab ride with Amaya and then stumbling up the stairs to my apartment.  I didn’t even take my clothes off but more or less fell into bed as I was.  Then, I woke up this morning with a bird’s nest for hair and black eyeliner smeared across my eyes.  A scary sight for the first morning mirror glance.

I rarely dream anymore.  Dreams are for children.  I am only 21 but already my fresh-faced chubby cheeked innocence is wearing off.  Why?  I just found out that my best friend was diagnosed as being HIV positive.  So forgive me if I sound a little like someone who has lost her best friend.  Even though my friend is not technically lost, her life-clock is now ticking down to a final countdown.  I am so sad.  It is hard for me to talk about it right now but perhaps later on I will have the courage to shed more light on the subject.

I had a few drinks last night with the girls from work.  I love my girls.  Chandra is 24 and the “experienced one” of the group.  That girl has had more sexual partners than anyone I know.  She has a long list of ex-boyfriends and is the non-commital type.  Guys love that about her.  Matilda (Matty as we all call her) is 21 like me and is sort of bookish.  She just landed her dream job as a junior IT consultant for a small company in the city.  Last but not least is Amaya.  She is 22 and the romantic of the group. Though currently single, she’s always on the look out for “The One”.  We keep telling her that if she looks too hard she won’t find it.

And then there’s me.  Mia.  I’m 23 years old and in my senior year of college.  After a couple of years switching my majors (first I was a psych major and then graphic design), will end up with a well-rounded degree in Communications.  I have decided that I want to be a writer.   My dream is to work for a big newspaper as a staff writer.  I love reading mysteries, so my dream job would entail following the comings and goings of a police beat.

I’m single.  As single as one can get without being virtually invisible to the male population.  I am attracted to guys but haven’t really sought one out for a relationship (or vice versa).  I’ve been too engrossed in life to really focus on the romance aspect of things.  Maybe things will change this year…