“Let’s Call Her Michelle”….
Let’s call her Michelle. Not her real name, but it works. She’d hate this being written about her, would probably roll her eyes, take a long drag from her vape, and say “whatever” but deep down, she'd be flattered. Michelle is a Russian-speaking girl from Cleveland, Ohio. Well, not really Cleveland. But somewhere Midwest enough to feel far from the kind of life she keeps chasing.
She loves Israel. Not in the postcard sense. It’s complicated and messy and full of noise, but it feels honest in a way the suburbs never did. She thinks she’ll find him there, the guy. You know the one: salt and pepper hair, always holding a coffee, wearing a hat like it means something. He dresses like it’s Friday, but also like he once went to prep school. And the glasses? Tom Ford. Of course. He carries both a flip phone and an iPhone, because he's stuck in two worlds. Michelle only has one phone. It’s enough. She's too busy chain vaping and running from her thoughts.
Her rabbi is her best friend. Not in a spiritual way, more like a hometown buddy who never judged her when she spiraled, who picks up on the first ring, and who texts her dad when she doesn’t answer. He gets it. He’s seen her go through ten crushes, three “life plans,” and more than a few existential monologues over overpriced iced coffee.
Back home, her parents are watching her dog, Nuggets. He wasn’t their idea. At first, they said no. Now they spoil him. Nuggets has a better morning routine than Michelle. He gets walks, filtered water, and the kind of love Michelle still isn’t sure she deserves. Her parents are worried about her. They just want her to come home. They miss her. They want her at dinner. They don’t even care what she wears anymore, as long as she’s there.
But Michelle keeps thinking the fairy tale ends in Israel. That’s where it’s supposed to click. That’s where she’s supposed to see him across the street, or at a café, or on a shared taxi, and know.
She doesn’t.
Because what she doesn’t realize, what none of us realize until way too late, is that sometimes you’re not searching for a person.
You’re searching for you.
And when she finally does get on the plane back home, vaping through the tears and replaying voice memos she never sent, she thinks it’s over. The story, the fantasy, the whole thing.
But it’s not over.
It’s just the beginning.
Because two weeks later, at a hardware store of all places, while buying batteries she doesn’t need, she hears a voice behind her. A man, asking the clerk something.
He’s holding a flip phone and an iPhone.
To be continued…
On the next episode of “Let’s Call Her Michelle.” Part 2. Next Sunday 10pm (EST) Talk soon unless I ghost you.
By Gary Guz & Daniella Diva aka GD