Public Relations

Epilogue

Brett

In an absolutely unimaginable turn of events, selling my house became the biggest headache I had to deal with.

Politicians are vicious people, but they're also a bit fleeting and disinterested. Their focus remains on what they need to do immediately - thus, I fell to the back of Bells' mind rather quickly. His lawyers and my lawyers argued a bit via email, exchanged a few very pointed words, (in this part of the story, I'd like to imagine they fell in love and kissed each other) and, finally, it was just forgotten about. I became nothing to the Bells jackasses, and that entire threat turned into a non-issue altogether.

Avalon, however, was a different story.

There was frequent contact following the posting of my video. It started off aggressive, with bold claims of the legal action she'd be hitting me with. Then, sadly, the tone shifted after a few weeks of not replying.

A: I don't know how to tell you I miss you.

There was an irony here I didn't feel like verbalizing, but god was it insane to read. 

I'd stared at that text for what felt like hours, aghast, in denial, disturbed, and, surprisingly, a bit empathetic.

Mia did not feel the same.

"I'll skin that woman alive," she said through bites of her turkey sub, the white bread clogging her mouth in a way that would've been disgusting had I not loved every fiber of that woman. "I'm a feminist, and I support women's wrongs, but I will seriously swing on her."

This violence was endearing in a strange way.

We'd been back in Wisconsin, visiting my mom and aunt, tucked in the crevices of each other as we watched Jeopardy on the living room couch. She'd helped my mom with organization - only slightly, as Mom wasn't extremely keen on decluttering or categorizing - and Mom had taught her how to pipe a cake in return. When I showed her the text, she promptly took my phone and typed a message before handing it back.

Without sending the text, she'd written I have a girlfriend.

It was the first real admission Mia had made about us being an official couple. We weren't seeing other people, but the g word had unnerved her for a long time.

I stared at her, unblinking, while she mumbled incorrect responses to the Jeopardy questions. She didn't get a single one right, the moment couldn't have been any less romantic, and yet I could've have been any more obsessed with her then.

We didn't speak about it; from then on, we were just casually official.

In the months it took to escape my contracts - ads, management teams, sponsorships - I also battled with the house debacle. That was a unique nightmare, as I had only owned the home for a few years and was set to lose hundreds of thousands on it. I didn't care; I listed it as soon as I could and jetted home to be with my family.

This meant, though, that Mia and I became a bit of a long distance thing. She started doing freelance writing, of all things, and my heart burst with pride when she first told me.

"I write good emails," she'd muttered over an ice cream sundae we'd nobly decided to split. "I could also write good... other things."

It didn't earn her the big bucks she was making at the hotshot PR firm, but that didn't matter, as she'd moved home with her own mother to rekindle their relationship, and inadvertently reduced her bills to almost nothing.

And there we were - two twenty-somethings on their way down from highly successful careers, jobless and moving back in with their parents.

But if you asked either of us, we'd both say we'd never been happier.