She called me back and her cell phone did like that Sprint PCS commercial. I told her to swing by or she was in town; either or, I started to prep the room.

I was watching Eddie Izzard, wondering on his views of slavery, when the phone rang.

”Hello.”

“Are you home? I just knocked.”

”Didn’t I tell you to just walk in?”

The door opened a second later.

She was wearing a visor, something I noticed right away. That ran into something else, but the dirt finally dropped.

She was knocked by her ex man and pressed charges. The visor was to cover the black eye.

Silence.

“Oh, what’s today’s date?”

”The ninth.”

”And there’s only 28 days in February. That means 34 days before I go back East.”

I had known, but never put a number on it. I had yet to tell her and she hadn’t told me.

”I’m moving to Brazil in two and a half months.”

”To live? Yeah, fuck you!”

Jealously was my first reaction. She was going to do what I want to do. São Paulo of all places.

She had a friend down there with the hook up. The ticket was bought, but even more for one reason.

”I dated my ex-boyfriend for almost a year and a half. He asked me to marry him and then told me he was a drug dealer. I told him no and moved away.”

She changed phones and the whole nine. This was 10 months since they broke up. I’ve been here for 10 months.

The scary thing is she could leave sooner than me.

I’m still shocked. Shocked and amazed.