Chapter Nine
Hannah
Something about fresh laundry just makes me feel like all’s right with the world.
I stuff my bag into the backseat and turn to hug my mom.
I stayed the entire weekend, telling myself it was for her, but it was for me.
I haven’t been feeling myself lately, been feeling like I’m standing on a cliff and someone could come up behind me and push me off at any moment.
Her hand glides over the space between my shoulder blades, and she makes an ‘mmm’ sound as she squeezes me to her. Her hair, once copper like mine but now fading into a coppery brown, tickles my nose, and I pull away.
“I hope your landlord never installs a washer. Or a dryer,” she tells me, smiling obliviously, patting Lucy’s side before I open the car door for her.
She bounds eagerly into the backseat. She loves the car, loves sitting up before smashing into the back of my seat when I brake. She loves when I open the window for her so she can chew on the rapid air.
I walk around the front of my Toyota Corolla, lightly dragging my fingertips against its greasy exterior.
“Me, too, Mom,” I assure her as I open the door, that odd champagne color that seemed so popular in the early 2000s.
“But we won’t worry about it – because he never will.”
I wave and dip my head to pop inside the car. Standing at 5’9, getting into most cars is a head wound waiting to happen, and this one’s no different.
Hitting my head on the roofline of this car enough times has trained me to bend down when getting in and it’s become my version of Pavlov’s whistle.
I could go back and do some work, but I’ve been trying to be better at asserting work/home life boundaries lately, and it’s Sunday. It’s the day of rest.
I drop off Lucy at the office. She runs to her food bowl and gives me a look of confused misery as I head to the door to leave, but I tell her, “No, don’t. I saw Mom sneak you all that rotisserie chicken. You’re not getting anything else right now.”
There’s still daylight left, and I want to get to the bookstore, so I can spend some time in the office supply section first before buying a book from the clearance section.
I do just that, ordering a latte, then heading straight for the office supplies section where I stare at calendars and budgeting books and pens. They are my weakness, all the soft pink pens and post it notes.
A woman a few feet down the aisle from me strongly considers a leather bound journal with a ribbon for saving her place. She finally chooses it, tucking it under her arm in a signal of finality, then considers getting a second one in a lighter leather.
A flash of jealousy surges through me; that she can afford two of these ridiculously priced journals. I let the feeling sink me for a moment before swimming my way out of it.
It isn’t her fault that she’s everythingng I’m not. She has no idea that I’m watching her and thinking about all the ways she’s better than I am.
Her wavy brown locks cascade down her back like the side of a mountain. Her shorter stature allows her to wear a little, yellow sundress that doesn’t expose her entire butt to the world.
I sigh and put away the multipack of post it notes in my hand.
It would be a ridiculous purchase anyway, and if I get those, then I can’t afford a book later.
I know I’ll get more enjoyment out of a book, so I’ll prioritize and wait. My little exhale gets the attention of the woman, and she glances at me.
My blood runs cold, and I feel my eyes widen without my permission.
“Are you okay? You look terrified,” she says with a nervous laugh, her eyebrows leaning into each other in her confusion.
Terrified isn’t the right word. I’m sure I’m looking at Julie for the first time in five years. I blurt out, “Don’t you live somewhere else now?”
She cocks her head and turns slightly toward me, although her feet stay facing forward. She doesn’t want to be in this conversation. “Do I know you?”
“Well, I was younger, but yes, I’m Hannah.” She looks somewhat confused and I then realize that she never really met me.
“Sorry, I’m Tyler Jackson’s younger sister.” When her face doesn’t move, I jut out my chin. “Tyler. As in Chris’ college roommate?”
“Oh!”
She knocks her forehead with the heel of her hand in an overdramatic gesture. “Duh! Hannah, hi. How are you?”
The confusion on her face has melted into stiff condescension. She didn’t just leave Chris, apparently, but all of us. I’m reminded of the cruelty Chris described, and I see it on her face now.
“I’m fine…what are you doing back here?” I ask warily.
“I got a new job out here, so I moved back.”
She smiles and spreads out her hands, her elbow still tucked in holding the leather book, like it’s good news that she’s back, as if any of us would welcome her back.
I think she expects me to congratulate her, but I couldn’t if I wanted to. I feel sick for Chris suddenly, my stomach churning at her words.
“How’s Chris?” she asks me.
“He’s good.” I feel a blush spread across my cheeks. I want desperately to push it down but that only makes matters worse.
“Do you talk to him at all?”
“I’m helping with expanding his fitness center business,” I tell her mildly. “So I talk to him a bit, yes.”
A pause passes between us, so I add out of a sense of loyalty, “He’s very successful. Yes, I talk to him a lot, actually. He’s great.”
The words spill out of me. I open my mouth to say more, then clamp it closed.
Something flashes in her eyes, and her smile changes into a smirk. “Do I detect a little crush, Amanda?”
“Hannah.”
That stupid hand flies to her stupid forehead again. “Right, sorry. Anna.” She nods as though she’s solidifying it.
I shake the pack of pens in my hand. “Well, I’ve gotta go, just came to get these.” Why am I explaining myself?
“Okay, nice to see you!” she calls, her voice disappearing into the air as I walk as slowly as I can out of the aisle.
Once Julie’s head is hidden behind the shelves in the foreground, I pick up my pace and speed walk to the register. I’m practically jogging when I reach the automatic doors, and the clerks hollers at me to pay for the pack of pens I’m still holding.
I throw them onto a table of book recommendations a foot away and hurry out the door before running to my car.
Breathing heavily in my driver’s seat, I turn the key and hear the bumpy humming of my old car’s engine.
Pulling out of the parking lot, I try to slow my heartbeat by breathing out through my mouth in a slow pace, feeling my lungs empty.
What is wrong with me? Why did she get to me like that? Do I tell Chris? Does he know?
I rush home to throw myself in work so that I can stop thinking about Julie. Forget work/home life boundaries.
Lucy greets me like I’ve been gone for weeks, and I squat down on my heels to envelop her in a hug. She frantically tries to lick my face while I hug her around the neck, forcing her to lick my hair instead.
I open the folder Chris gave me with his financial statements so that I can input the information into his client portal. I scan the documents in one by one when one catches my eye. I snatch if off the glass surface and look at it more closely.
A discrepancy between the projected profits of the last quarter and the actual profits isn’t too strange, but the last few quarters have had eerily similar discrepancies.
Hesitating for only a moment, I call Chris. It’s been a few days since our awkward moment, and it’s still in my mind, but I have a duty to tell him.
He answers in a disjointed voice, his breathing up and down. “Hello?”
“Hey, Chris. Sorry to call, but I noticed something unusual about the financials you gave me.”
“Hannah?”
“Yes? Who else would be calling you about financial documents?” I roll my eyes and Lucy walks up to me to soothe me. I pet her head when she rests it heavily on my thigh.
“Sorry, it’s just. How did you get my number?”
“You included it in the first email you sent me.”
“So you agree that our relationship is too personal to restrict to emails.” His voice is smug, and I almost feel bad that I have bad news for him.
“No, Chris, I definitely don’t agree, but this is kind of urgent, if you don’t mind shutting down the asshole attitude for a minute and being serious.”
“Oh. Well, why don’t you come over? I’ll text you the address.”
“You can just come—” I realize he’s already hung up, the phone silent in my hand.