month 4.5, status post breakup
In some ways, things get easier after that night.
She and Danny never talk about it. Or at all, really. She would probably have some sort of negative feeling about it if she wasn't completely numb, but she's not really all that interested in feelings these days. She just sort of drifts through the day, polite and distant and a little bit empty. Usually at this point after a breakup she'd be romanticizing it, pretending she's a grief-stricken war widow who's vowed never to love again, or embracing her role as a strong, sassy career woman too independent to need a mere man, but she's too tired. There's nothing elegant or interesting about the emotional clusterfuck her life has become – she just wants it to stop.
month 5, status post breakup
"They broke up, you know," Peter tells her one day over lunch, at a little Chinese place that they discovered during a drunken quest for cheap noodles. She pokes at her lo mein and wishes she could pretend not to know who he's talking about.
"When?" she asks, finally.
"Couple weeks ago."
"And you're just now telling me? Peter!"
"Chill, girl. I just found out, ok? I don't know if you noticed, but Danny and I don't exactly shoot the shit anymore, and Sally…" he gestures helplessly. "We don't talk about this stuff."
"Then how'd you find out?"
"She's heading back to Florida. Said there wasn't anything keeping her here."
"Oh my god. Does she hate me?"
"Sally? Why would she hate you?"
"Oh, I don't know. Just the small matter of sleeping with her boyfriend."
"She's a little pissed, yeah."
"Jesus."
"But I think she gets that she basically stumbled into a hot mess. Give her a week and she'll probably just be glad she got out when she did."
"Do you hate me?" she asks, and the honest confusion on his face is a relief.
"Why the hell would I do that?'
"I screwed up your sister's relationship."
"You put a fucked up hookup out of its misery."
"Aren't you even a little mad at me?"
He puts his fork down and looks her in the eye. "Should I be?"
She bites her lip and looks away. "I didn't mean for anyone else to get hurt."
He reaches across the table to grab her hand. "And that's why I'm not mad. You tried to stay out of it. Besides," he sighs, idly bending the tines of his plastic fork against the table, "Sally's fine. She goes hard and fast and then she gets bored. And she definitely doesn't have the attention span for a guy who's stupid in love with some other chick."
She can't help the little leap that her heart makes, but she can certainly hate herself for it.
month 6, status post breakup
The taxidermists throw a party, and it's basically her worst nightmare.
She's there with Peter, which makes it nearly bearable, but the fact remains that she's stuck in close quarters with four exes.
"Peter, there's no way I'm making it through this night without alcohol."
"No can do, Minty Fresh."
"Why do I like that you call me that? I should dislike it severely. I want to dislike it severely."
"Coming up with sweet handles is kind of my thing. Just ask my frat bros."
"It's totally going to be my rapper name for when Rishi and I take our show on the road."
"The first Indian-doctor-rapper duo? Yeah, that'll get you guys at least a spot on Fallon."
"That's all I'll need. So, who can we safely talk to?" She asks brightly, trying her damndest to look anywhere but at Short, Dark, and Broody near the punch bowl.
Peter rolls his eyes. "Nice try. He's still dead to me. Cliff?"
"I'm still dead to him. Midwives?"
"Um, Deslaurier might still be a little PO'ed about that whole ballet thing…"
"Oh my god, we're either going to have to find a new building or make friends with the taxidermists."
"I'll craigslist tomorrow. Wanna grab some cheesecake bites and hit the dance floor? "
"Obvi."
So it's not her worst nightmare. They dance, they meet the advertising firm from the second floor ("On a scale of 1 to Don Draper, how much do you guys really drink?"), and if she overhears Deslaurier and Cliff making snide comments about the all the men in the building she's gone through, well, she'll beat them to a bloody pulp during tomorrow's workout fantasy.
Her Danny-sense is still finely honed, so she manages to successfully maintain at least a ten foot distance between them at all times. He keeps trying to catch her eye, though, keeps starting towards her as though there isn't a gaping emotional chasm between them. It makes her angry, because the last thing she wants to be is available.
"Hey, Min. Dance with me." Danny manages to catch her by the refreshments (they have the tiny sausages, ok?) and it takes all she's got to choke off the little surge of happiness that goes through her. He's so beautiful. She's always known that, academically, but looking at him sometimes makes her think of the summer she spent in Italy, surrounded by marble sculptures and vibrant frescoes and realizing that art could be felt, even if she didn't understand it. Danny's her David, arresting and untouchable, all at once, and she wonders which of her gods is laughing at her now. Probably all of them. She should really find a temple.
"I don't think that's a good idea, Danny," she says slowly, and it's one of the most difficult things she's ever had to do, because it's so tempting to let him just sweep her away.
"But you'll dance with Peter." It's the exact wrong thing to say and she can tell he realizes it by the way he tenses. "Fuck," he swears. "I didn't mean it that way. It's just…really hard to watch you."
"Watch me what? Watch me have a good time without you? Did you think I was just going to be a sad sack loser crying in a corner when you're around?" she spits out. She's getting disproportionately angry, she knows that, but she's been so tightly wound that she can't control it.
"No! Of course not," he says, reaching out to touch her elbow.
"Don't touch me!" People are looking at them now, and to her horror, her eyes are watering.
"Min, I just want to talk," he pleads.
"About what? What could we possibly have to talk about?"
"I miss you."
She doesn't say anything to that, can't say anything, really, so she turns on her heel and walks as calmly as she can out the door. She's outside on the sidewalk before the wind hits her and she realizes she left her coat, but when she turns around Danny is waiting on the stairs, gripping the railing like a lifeline.
"No," she says firmly, before he even opens his mouth.
"I didn't –"
"No, Danny," she says again, and her voice is trembling. "I don't want to do this."
"I broke up with Sally."
"I don't care."
"I want to tell you why."
"Danny, I really, really can't do this right now, ok? You and I? Toxic. Like, hole-in-the-ozone, nuclear-waste-in-the-ocean toxic. I'm not doing this right now."
"Then when?"
She throws her hands up. "I don't know, Danny! Maybe months ago when the things we said to each other actually meant something." She takes a deep breath. "You used to make me so happy, Danny. Just by being there, and I don't feel that anymore, and it kills me that I don't. I'm just sad and tired and I want to go home, ok? I'm going home."
"Ok," he croaks, and doesn't move.
The door swings open and Peter steps out, Mindy's coat slung over one arm. He squeezes Danny's arm once and shakes his head before reaching Mindy and draping the plaid material around her shoulders.
She should feel better about walking away. Danny doesn't move.
I'm a monster.