Chapter 1 — Michigan
Hazel is now in the living room at Conor’s apartment. In fact, this place could barely be called a living room based on the only furnitures here are a cheap dining table set from IKEA and a plastic-textured floor lamp. Conor just moved here three months ago, and has not been putting much energy in decorating this common area as settling other aspects of life is already overwhelming enough. It was early in a Tuesday morning, Conor is still sleeping in his room. Because of the jet lag, Hazel has not been sleeping regularly and constantly wakes up at weird times since she arrived three days ago. She rubbed her forehead with her knuckle. Australia to America is indeed a long way. This distorted sleeping schedule does not bother her too much though, whenever she couldn’t sleep she just opens her laptop and work on whatever she likes. She’s got an idea of a novel to kick start with, and she still needs to take that online course in preparation for her new job this summer. With all that things awaiting to be done, most of the time she just randomly browses the internet until she feels tired again. The world cup is on now, so that’s what she mainly does. She will look at the betting odds of the teams, look at the highlight videos, and some stats and match predictions. Since she was a kid, she found the world cup seasons to be relatively comfortable periods in her life. Somehow this event that happens remotely every four years with a rigid routine and unshakable schedule gives her comfort. As if no matter how fickle her state of life was then, there was always this deliberately planned schedule to look up to and rely on. The more she grows, the more she finds comfort and happiness in such routines, and this is what makes her and Conor so different. Conor thrives in unleashed schedules and suffocates in routines. She witnessed multiple times how a regularly happening event with obligation would bring his morale down to the ground. Once encountered such occasions his originally beaming of creativity and charisma would suddenly vanish in a snap.
Hazel put up the live stream of Argentina against Mexico. The points are still 0–0, and Messi is about to do a penalty kick. The water is boiling in the pot, and she is still obliviously browsing the web. When she first met Conor a year ago, he was already applying for degrees in the US. It has always been his dream to study there, and she was genuinely happy for him when he got admitted into a prestigious university. It was a bitter-sweet moment for Hazel, as she kind of foresaw what would happen next — — They would try to maintain a romantic relationship, but her anxiety would be frequently triggered by his absent-minded, she would turn to events that she found comfort with, such as video calls on a regular basis, and he would feel constrained by this yet another routine. Not to mention all the new experiences and environment that would push his longing for freedom even stronger — — all those cliche long distance relationship problems, basically. And she did not expect they would’ve survive. Although she had to admit, there once was a short period of time she was unreasonably optimistic about this whole situation, until one morning she woke up to Conor’s message saying he could not do this anymore. The words shimmering on the screen seemed distant and benign, as she was in the short phase of being immune to any emotions right after waking up.
Hazel always had an ambivalent feeling towards whether she is independent as an individual. She grew up in a family where she is required to take good care of herself. She maintained good grades and a balanced social life throughout her school years, and is most proud of her being able to manage her life without her parents helicoptering her. She decided she wanted to study journalism after high school, which worried her family for a bit. But later on she figured out a more “worldly” options, so she started to learn to become an engineer. In some part of her she imagined herself insisted on writing and creating even when studying a more demanding subject, though that is not necessarily the case for most of the time. In her retrospective on her 25 years of life, she feels independent, but seldom feels complete. Conor understands this, which she found to be quite unique in a person to observe such subtle ambivalence in others. But it turns out him being able to understand does not mean he is capable of changing things.
Hazel paces herself to the kitchen, adds instant coffee to a mug and poured hot water inside. She could hear Conor waking up in the room, his distant mumbles and rustling of bed sheets. She then heats up the croissant on a pan, constantly tapping her finger on the croissant to feel the warmth of it.
The calls they made after Conor proposed his frustration were far more calmer and efficient than Hazel thought they would be. After all, she too had been accumulating her thoughts for a while, so all of the words seem to pour out naturally. Yes, she feels the frustration too. Yes, she feels that something subtle has changed between them. No, she did not see it coming so soon. Until very recently she still thinks they have a good hope to carry on. But if this is the case, she could not do anything about it. Deep inside she believed that there is no chance for negotiation when someone already left the room. She remembered whenever she hung up the phone, she would rush into some chores — a defence mechanism she had developed — just to prove to herself everything was still normal. The things are still there, nothing is different, you will be fine. The words her mother used to comfort when she couldn’t gather the courage to go to the toilet at night because of the dark still works on many situations.
The croissant is now toasted to a perfect crisp. She can hear from the end of the hallway Conor opening the door and walking towards the kitchen. Injury time is almost over. The score is still 0–0. She took a deep breathe. The things are still there, nothing is different, both of them will be fine.
