Chapter 13 #2
She blows out a breath. “That’s the thing.
I think if my boss was always terrible like that, then I would’ve quit.
But sometimes he was super nice and complimentary, and I thought I was excelling.
I’d let my guard down the tiniest bit and then bam!
He’d yell at me in the hall or snap at me in a board meeting.
I walked on constant eggshells, felt this dark energy brewing right below the surface.
And then after a while, I started thinking how lucky I was to work here, you know?
He’d say that to me too, all the time—that I should be grateful he keeps me around because no one else would put up with me.
And… I believed it. I made pretty good money and even though I clearly sucked at my job, he kept me on staff. ”
Heat rises to my chest. “So, he one hundred percent gaslit you.”
My heart sinks as she keeps telling me her story, each word weighing me down.
She’s staring at her fingers, not me, her voice deflated, as she talks more about her former boss.
I flash back to the day I first met Quinn, when she came into the bakery and was adamant she didn’t screw up the order.
I did the same darn thing to her she’d experienced for years. No wonder she snapped the way she did.
“I’ve been a boss for six years. Before that I managed the grocery store.
I’ve fired two employees, and I’ve never felt so awful in my life,” I say.
“My guess is that you were phenomenal at your job, and he knew he was a big, terrible jerk and was scared you’d realize that.
So, he beat you down, so you’d never leave.
Because trust me, if you were actually that bad, he would’ve fired you right away. ”
Something in her softens, and a pink sweeps her cheeks. I think she needed to hear this. My arms are twitchy. I have this urge to lean over and give her a hug, but thankfully, a knock rapping against my door stops me from any uninvited touching.
“Oh, pizza, yes! I’m so hungry.” My foot might be achy, but I practically sprint to the door.
When I return with the pizza box and a pile of napkins, I dig in with total abandon and crunch into the chewy dough.
I spy the anchovies and giggle at the anticipation on Quinn’s face. “Am I really doing this?”
Her red curls bounce as she vigorously nods. “Yes, you are.”
Okay, here it goes. I give it a quick sniff test. Not…
terrible. Saliva grows in the back of my throat.
Fish on pizza. First meal with Quinn and she’s already getting me to try things I didn’t think I would ever do.
Here we go. One… two… three. I take a hefty bite of the chewy salty fish and nearly gag.
“Nope. Oh my gosh, heck no. Gross! How do you like that?”
Quinn laughs and sprinkles anchovies on her slice. “No way, really? I’ll gladly double up. If you see my veins start to pop or anything from the salt intake, will you let the paramedics know?” She swallows a bite and glances up at me with a playful grin. “Does this mean I have to Cusack you now?”
“Yes, you do. A bet’s a bet.” I swipe the napkin across my mouth. “But you’ll have to come up with the song yourself. Which is a ton of pressure because how do you beat ‘In Your Eyes’?”
Quinn chuckles and shrugs. As we polish off the pizza, we talk about what it is like owning a business, especially the first year, and all the things that no one ever talks about like workers’ comp insurance, licenses, and permits.
By the time we’re done eating, we’ve settled into the couch.
Comfortable. So comfortable that I’m almost uncomfortable.
Quinn has this way about her, something unique and freeing.
Almost like I could say anything, and she wouldn’t even bat one of her beautiful eyes.
Very quickly, the shock of having anyone up to my place besides Josie fades, and morphs into feeling like Quinn has been here a hundred times before.
We crack open more sodas, I tease her about polishing off the entire side of anchovies (still so gross), and we fall into talking about our different experiences growing up here.
Sure, it’s a small town, and it feels like everyone knows everyone, but I didn’t know Quinn as a kid, and I’m consumed by figuring out all the details.
“Did you ever hear about what happened at the grocery store I worked at?” I ask.
“No, not really,” Quinn says, leaning her elbow against the back of the couch. “Something about stealing recipes, maybe?”
“Grr. That’s so annoying. I didn’t steal any recipes.
At my old place we had chocolate, vanilla, and marble cakes.
That was it. At my bakery now we have lavender macaroons and salted caramel croissants, and pistachio cupcakes with a Kahlúa drizzle.
” I really don’t want to be a snob, but my stuff is simply better and more creative than the grocery store’s.
“The owners were sort of skeezy, you know? Not nearly as bad as what happened to you in New York, but they didn’t treat us fairly, refused to honor time-and-a-half wages for overtime, fostered an overall unkind atmosphere.
So, what did they do to get back at me after I left to start my bakery? They started a prayer chain for me.”
Quinn nearly spits out her drink. “What? What are you talking about?”
“The owner’s wife is in a prayer circle at the church with a bunch of ladies.
So she had them pray for me to absolve me from lying and stealing.
And it became a whole thing. And of course, this got back to my mom, who then told me.
” I roll my eyes. Sure, the story is amusing now, but at the time I wanted to move away to a foreign town where no one knew me.
“But yes, quick heads-up. The easiest way to gossip about someone is to pray for them.”
Quinn has her hand over her mouth covering her extra-wide smile, but I wish she’d drop it.
Her smile is so easy, so full, one that lights up a room.
And it stirs something in me, something warm and gooey, but the feeling quickly dissipates.
I think I’m tired and emotional. It’s been a heck of a day.
I keep going back to our conversation at the Christmas vendor event, where Quinn said she doesn’t date. How can someone like Quinn, who’s so magnetic, so easy to talk to, so funny and energetic, not date? Did someone break her heart? Has she just not met the right one?
“Can I ask you a question?” I say, reaching for a napkin to take off the grease from my fingers.
Quinn nods. “Of course.”
I continue staring at my napkin, now wiping phantom grease. “When we were at the vendor fair, and you said you were a single-serving kind of person, did you mean that? I mean, is that just your preference, or do you really not date. Like ever.”
The corner of Quinn’s mouth lifts into a quiet grin. “I’ve never had a relationship in my life. It’s just, I don’t know, not something for me. I don’t long for it, or yearn for it, or feel sad that I don’t have it.”
I’m quiet, watching her facial expressions, seeing if there’s something underneath there that she’s hiding. But so far, nothing. She’s not shifty, not looking down, not looking like she’s avoiding.
“You know how there are some women who want to be moms, and some that don’t?
And the ones that don’t try to explain to the ones that do that they really, really don’t want to be a mother.
But the other women just can’t understand it because it’s so imbedded into their biology to be a mom.
That’s me when I explain this to people.
” She taps her rings against the side of the soda can, with a gentle tink.
“Sex to me is a means to an end. A release. A way to get off so I can just get back to my life.”
Oh. Wow. And, ouch. She probably doesn’t mean for it to sound callous, but it kind of does. Although, I need to keep remembering that I’m framing my reaction to my wants and needs, not hers.
“I’ve never once cared about any of the women I’ve been with. I know that’s really harsh to say, but it’s true. And the women I’m with, they’re the same. We know nothing exists between us. We’re both in it for the same thing, so it’s uncomplicated and easy. Unlike relationships.”
I don’t know why all of this hurts me. She’s opening up, she’s being kind, and yet, I can feel this murky pang blooming inside of me and I wish it would go away.
“Wow. Thank you for sharing that with me.” What else am I supposed to say?
Congratulations for being free and sexually open and everything I’m not?
Congratulations on your robust sex life when I haven’t slept with anyone for years?
Quinn sets the can down on a coaster and leans back into the couch. “So, same question back to you. Are you really an emperor penguin, or have you ever just let loose and spent a weekend doing naughty things with someone you weren’t dating.”
“I really am a penguin, I guess.” I ball up the napkin and toss it on the table. “I’ve slept with two women in my life, and I proposed to one of them.”
Quinn’s mouth drops open. “No. Freaking. Way.”
Her reaction makes me chuckle. It’s like I said I have a closet full of lifelike dolls that I tuck in at night. “What can I say? I’m a one-woman woman. You can tattoo boring right on my forehead.”
“No, don’t do that,” Quinn says. “You’re not boring and I’m not a ho and that’s that.”
There’s a finality in her tone, one that lifts me, one I think I needed to hear.
She opens her mouth to say something, but then closes it and keeps her gaze on her fingers. As she twists the trio of rings on her finger, she takes a quick, sharp breath. “I have to confess something.”
There’s a sheepishness in her tone that gives me pause.
“I wasn’t snooping, I swear. But when I dug in your desk for notebooks, I saw a stack of pretty cards in there with hearts on them.” Quinn cocks her head. “Do you have a secret admirer?”
Oh boy. This is not the confession I was expecting to hear.
How do I explain everything about Josie?
Why those cards are there, why I don’t toss them, what happened with us.
I twist the ring on my finger and take a deep breath.
“Not so much a secret… and not really an admirer. They’re from my ex-girlfriend. ”
Quinn pulls her lips into her mouth. “The one you proposed to?”
I nod.
She doesn’t ask any follow-up questions, and it’s so hard to know what to offer.
Does she need to hear the details of how my heart broke when Josie left?
Broke and shattered, and how I convinced myself I’d never be whole again, and that it has taken me until this year to open up my heart to the possibility of someone else? “I haven’t read the letters.”
A small line forms between her brows. “Why not?”
I shrug. “I don’t know. The breakup was so painful that I’m not sure anything in there is what I need or should hear.” I swipe my tongue against the inside of my mouth. “We were together for ten years, and I thought she was the one. I was convinced she was the one, obviously.”
I can’t help but flash back to that day.
Gooseberry Falls. The rush of the waterfall behind us.
The rich greenery. The lump in my throat, the shakiness of my fingers, the weight of the ring in my jeans.
Josie had been off for a while, but I thought it was stress.
She was a vet tech, working with injured animals all day and…
I thought it was stress. And when I got down on a knee, and she started bawling… I knew. It wasn’t tears of joy.
She never even saw the ring. We drove home in the most excruciating, awkward silence ever in existence, and she moved out a week later.
“So why not throw the letters away?” Quinn asks.
I think about this a lot. Why not just throw them away? “I guess I’m not ready.”
Quinn’s face turns warm. She shifts, studying my face. “Are you over her?”
This answer is much more complicated than what I can give right now. I’ve let Josie, the person, go. I had no choice when she left. I’m ready to move on, ready to find the one, ready to find a soulmate. But I’d be lying if I said I let the relationship go. To this day, parts of it still haunt me.
Quinn’s leaning in, her eyes wide and expectant, and I can tell she really wants to know. And I can’t tell if it’s because there’s a small tug between us, or because we’re friends, or if she’s just curious.
Finally, I sigh and say the truth: “Honestly, I’m not sure.”