CHAPTER THIRTEEN #2
In lieu of sharing my thoughts about the book on TikTok, I decide to get some fresh air.
I don’t work until the closing shift tonight, so the late morning is my oyster.
I toss on some workout shorts, a sports bra, and a loose tank and head outside.
I don’t have a destination in mind, I just know that Griffin would recommend physical activity to get out of my head.
Griffin’s house is close to the boardwalk that hugs the shore, so I head that way and start wandering.
The lake air, the humid breeze, and the blooming bushes, trees, and flower beds of downtown all help to quiet the noise in my head.
Even though it’s my hometown, it’s still a surprise not to find the bustle of the big city outside my door.
There’s no L train rumbling past my bathroom window, no wind tunnel of North and LaSalle.
I love living in the city and have ever since college graduation.
But there is something nice about the tranquility here. I can hear my thoughts better, even if they’re all over the place.
As I walk, I’m thinking about twenty-five things at once as usual: why Bayshore feels so unexpectedly nice after Chicago, what I’d say for my first TikTok video in years, whether any jobs in Chicago will request an interview, what is even happening between Griffin and me, to name a few.
I’m so lost in thought that I don’t even notice there’s a world around me until a familiar voice pierces my bubble.
“Earth to Casey! Spacey Casey! Are you there?”
That’s when I notice Claire standing a little bit past me on the boardwalk, looking at me like I’m the stupidest person on earth.
“Oh my god. Claire.” I touch my forehead, the embarrassment settling in. “I’m so sorry. I was lost in thought.”
“Lost in space like always,” she murmurs, crossing her arms. “I don’t know how you make it through the day sometimes.”
Here we go again. I heave with a sigh, unsure how to play this. “Honestly, me neither.” I remember what my mom told me that morning on the phone, and some of the acid anxiety returns to my gut. “What’s new? How are you?”
“Nothing much. Just getting my steps in on my lunch break.” She offers a tight smile, and I notice she’s in full lawyer mode. Nice, tucked blouse, black capri dress pants, designer flats.
“That’s nice. I can walk with you…” I offer, then suddenly doubt myself. “Unless you don’t want me to.”
“That’s okay. I have some time.” We start a slow walk in the direction I’d been heading. “I’m surprised to see you out and about.”
“Yeah, well…just trying to clear my head.” I swallow hard, urging myself to plunge right into the hurtful topic at hand.
Just get that out of the way—one less thing to stress over.
“Mom called this morning and told me about your bachelorette party. We both kind of wondered why I had no idea about it.”
Claire looks a little sheepish. “It’s a work bachelorette party. That’s why I didn’t tell you.”
“I guess mom missed the memo then. She was sure I’d be invited. But it’s okay.” I wave it off, like trying to clear it from the air.
“You can come if you want…” Her voice is dripping with something that reminds me of how I’ve always felt at her side.
Offering me scraps out of pity. When I don’t jump on her offer, she adds, “I think the boat only has six spots though. And there’s six of us already. I’ll let you know if a seat opens up.”
“Yeah.” The extra info has just made things worse, but I don’t know how to vocalize that. “That sounds fun for you guys.”
“We’ll see who pukes first.”
We share a small laugh and then walk in silence for a few beats.
“So when’s Jake coming up next?” Claire asks brightly. I can tell she’s aiming for chitchat, but that topic is anything but light. Of course she doesn’t know because I’ve avoided it. Something about the quiet, fresh lake air has me feeling clearer. It’s time to rip the Band-Aid off.
“Jake won’t be visiting me,” I manage to say, trying to keep my voice steady. “We, uh…broke up.”
Her eyes get big and round. “Seriously? Well, I guess I’m not super surprised…was it because you’re living with another man?”
I crumple inside but keep my voice steady as I say, “It happened before I came home.”
“Oh.” The word lands like a boulder in the lake. Claire slows to a stop, squinting over at me. “I’m sorry to hear that.” A pause, and then her eyes narrow further. “When were you going to tell me?”
“Well…I just told you now.”
“Yeah, because I ran into you on the boardwalk and happened to ask about Jake.”
I can feel her frustration growing like static electricity in the air. She’s not wrong. This is exactly what Spacey Casey would do. And nobody is as frustrated with me as I am.
“You’ve been telling me all along that he was coming to the wedding,” she goes on. “He’s not, right?”
I swallow a lump in my throat. “No.”
She throws her hands up in the air. “Well, that is very helpful information in planning a wedding.”
“Claire, I wasn’t trying to keep it from you.” I pause, thinking back on my words. I did, in fact, try to keep it from her. But it was out of self-preservation. “I just needed some time to figure out…what was happening. With him, with my life, with…everything.”
But she doesn’t care. She’s mad now, and I’m not sure how to put this cat back in the bag.
“But you’ve been lying to us,” Claire says, her nostrils flaring.
“I wasn’t lying. I was processing. I was going to tell you soon, once I figured out…” But my words wither in the face of her frustration. There’s no point adding more.
Claire huffs, shaking her head. “Listen, I have to get back to work.” She seems like she wants to add something, but instead she spins on her heel and storms in the other direction.
I watch her go, caught between wanting to add more and knowing there’s nothing else I could ever say or do that would help.
She decided on day one that I’m the little sister who doesn’t know what she’s doing. The mess.
And somewhere along the way, I decided she was right.
I keep walking, stewing over the conversation with my sister.
My frustration with her and with myself churns the entire time, until it’s become a hard mass in the pit of my stomach.
I’m so tired of walking on eggshells around her.
I’m thirty years old and still living in her shadow. When does this shit end?
I did everything right. I moved to the right city. I got the right job. I found the right-enough guy. All the things that were supposed to please my family, make them think I was doing a good job.
But it’s all still falling apart.
A thought screeches onto the proverbial highway of my brain: What would you have chosen that would please you?
I can barely answer. I’ve almost never thought about this.
And maybe that’s the fucking problem.
My brisk walk turns into a brisk return to Griff’s house. As soon as I’m inside, I’m shedding my shoes and heading straight for the pile of books in my bedroom.
I’m doing it. I’m going to make videos about my thoughts on books, because it’s the only thing that occurs to me when I think about the answer to my big question.
The next two days are a blur of TikTok studying, content creation, bartending, and video editing.
I even have an unexpected side quest into mental health when I come across some videos asking questions that hit a little too close to home: Are you seen as unreliable?
Do people complain that your head is in the clouds?
The videos talk about ADHD and what signs and symptoms you might show if you have it.
Deep dives into the ways that ADHD can derail your life, your career, the hidden things that might be signs.
I spend about three hours gobbling up all the information I can, until I finally ask myself the burning question: Could I have ADHD?
My mind is blown. It’s never once occurred to me before. My parents never got me tested; I never had issues in school. But the older I get, the more I’ve thought maybe something is wrong. Has been wrong.
But I’m not ready to think about it now.
I file that away under “to ponder later” and get back to my book review endeavor.
It’s incredible how easily it flows in comparison to my corporate role.
There, it was dry as hell. Now I’m practically spewing up videos; I feel like a white water rafter struggling to stay afloat in the wild river of my creativity.
Having the house to myself has been helpful; I’m not worried about Griffin overhearing my blunders and awkward attempts at sounding witty.
For as much edited video content I create, I have about double the amount of bloopers.
But I don’t mind. I’m enjoying this deep dive into book reviewing, and I could probably do this for eight hours a day and not even notice.
This is where my corporate marketing background kicks in.
I’ve been editing videos and putting together social media packages for years.
So when I begin posting on my original profile, Casey’s Corner, I’m able to bypass all the usual fumbles of amateurs: low lighting, poor sound quality, haphazard editing.
After my two-day record-a-thon, I have enough content prepped for the next month. I’m proud of these videos. I don’t expect anything from them, other than being physical evidence of doing something that would deeply please me.