Chapter Twenty-Three
General?He thinks I’m bossy? Am I bossy? I open my phone again and scroll over to the messages app, clicking on Clara’s name.
Molly: Do you think I’m bossy?
Clara: Well hello to you too? Feeling better I hope? I have been keeping an eye on the data pouring in from Gertrude and I am looking over the nesting sites you organized in the spreadsheet and sent over today.
Molly: Um… you didn’t answer my question. Which means… I am bossy!
Clara: Well, you are the “boss” so you kinda have to be “bossy.”
Molly: Not what I was asking and you know it.
The phone starts to buzz, and I see the video feed pop up on my phone. Clara’s face making funny faces in the background while she waits for me to answer the FaceTime video.
“Hi, Clara. Couldn’t resist seeing my cute little bossy mug, could ya?” I stick my tongue out at her, and she laughs, her eyes shifting to someone else in the room. Her smile changes to one I haven’t seen before, and I snap my fingers at the screen. “Hello, over here, Clara, you called me, remember?”
Her gaze shifts back to mine, and her smile fades, replaced with a look of guilt as she gets up from wherever she was sitting and moves out of the lab. Uh oh. Whatever this face is about, I’m not sure, but it can’t be good if she is having to go somewhere else to talk to me about it. She enters a blue room with tiles. I know that room; she’s in the tank room bathroom, and before I have a chance to make a joke about her peeing with me on camera, she starts jumping up and down.
“He kissed me, Molly! Dusty kissed me! I wasn’t expecting him to. We even talked about needing to keep everything professional, and we both admitted our growing attraction for one another. But yesterday, we were locking up late because Jimmy has been sick and hasn’t been able to come in, so we had more work than usual. Dusty walked me to my car, and one thing led to another. The next thing I knew, we were making out like two teenagers in high school against the door of my car.” She puts her hand on her now flushed face and waits for my reaction.
I clear my throat and try to keep my face neutral as I force the next words from my mouth. “I told you this couldn’t happen, Clara. This was part of the deal, you being team lead and all. You two are supposed to be professionals, and why didn’t anyone tell me about Jimmy? If Jimmy is sick, there are backups that could have been brought in. You, of all people, should know how important this job is.” Clara’s smile falters as the words leave my mouth, and before I know what’s happening, she has tears streaming down her face. I have never seen Clara cry in my life. Knowing that I am the reason why makes me feel sick to my stomach.
She wipes the tears from her eyes and gets a hold of herself before responding, “To answer your first question, yes, you are possibly the bossiest person I have ever known. Second, I thought my “friend” would be happy for me, knowing my history with relationships.” She makes air quotes around the word friend, which makes me feel even worse, before continuing on.
“Third, I don’t know how being in a relationship with someone at work would cause problems with this job. You know me better than that, Molly. I think the real problem here is that you aren’t in a relationship, and don’t want anyone close to you to be in one because it makes you feel uncomfortable. But that is not my problem. Dusty and I like each other, and you are just going to have to get over that. Sorry, Molly, you can’t control my life. Work, yes. But outside of work, that is a hard no.” She finishes speaking, and it feels like someone has pierced my gut with a knife.
I open my mouth to respond back to her, trying to hold back my own tears, but she cuts me off. “I need to go get back to work. The boss is breathing down my neck,” and the video feed of her angry/hurt face cuts out.
The best thing to do when someone is angry is to leave them alone. So I plug in my phone, pop my AirPods in my ears, and pack my backpack for tomorrow, all while wiping my leaky eyes with the back of my hand. I pack some snacks and a change of clothes, along with a light jacket, just in case there is a little light rain, before getting the rest of the equipment ready for tomorrow. I mentioned on the itinerary for this trip that we would be needing to stay overnight a couple of times so that I could tag some of our night visitors with trackers. I should probably message Coop to remind him to pack a bag.
Molly: I know you are probably flying right now, but I wanted to remind you to pack a bag since we are staying late tomorrow to tag some turtles.
Coop: Just getting ready to take off. I’ll pack a bag, just in case the weather turns out to be good enough to go. But I highly doubt it. Time to fly. See ya on the other side.
Molly: It will be. You’ll see.
Coop doesn’t respond, and my lights flicker as a flash of lightning followed closely by a loud crack of thunder reverberates throughout the cottage, making me jump. I head for the front door and swing it open just as a flash of lightning lights up the sky, splitting the heavens in half, opening them up and letting loose a waterfall of rain, just as another deafening boom of thunder shakes the ground around me. I retreat from the onslaught of elements and move to the back window, staring up at what I can see of the sky. Hopefully Coop and his passengers are alright flying in this. I close my eyes and think back on what Coop said when he was here: “Gotta thank the Lord for the things I have.” I’m not sure how this praying thing works, but I close my eyes, whispering the words anyway to whatever invisible force might be around: “Keep him safe.”
The lights have gone outseveral times now, and I am pretty sure one of the trees in the parking lot lost a big branch. Coop wasn’t kidding when he said the storms around here are serious business, and right now, I am kind of regretting saying I knew how this would go. I am huddled on the floor on the side of the bed where a window isn’t present, with my cell phone plugged in nearby, under the blanket fort I have created for myself out of the comforter from the bed, the couch cushions, and the nightstand.
It has been over an hour since Coop’s plane took off, and the dread I feel in the pit of my stomach from the lack of messages from him has me checking my phone every few minutes. I pick up my phone and hover over his name with my finger as I contemplate calling him again, before closing the screen and setting it aside. “He’s fine. Quit being such a worry wart,” I say, under my blanket fort, to no one in particular.
I fiddle with the paper chain project that I started thirty minutes ago when I was bored out of my mind and unwrap another piece of the chewy organic candy, shoving it into my mouth. I fold the wrapper into a thin piece and loop it through the last one to make the chain longer before picking up my phone. I unlock it and check the time again. It has now been an hour and ten minutes since his last text message. Yup, that is enough time to wait. I pull up his name and hit the call button, holding my breath while I wait for him to answer.
“Hey, Molly, I can’t really talk right now. I’m trying to get the plane and my boat anchored so this storm doesn’t destroy them both tonight. You okay?” He sounds tired and wet. I’m not sure how someone can sound wet, but he does.
“Yeah… Yeah. I’m fine. I just wanted to make sure you were okay. Where are you staying tonight? Do you ne–,” he cuts me off before I have a chance to ask him, “I’m staying with my dad. Gotta go, Molly. This storm is getting worse. See you tomorrow.” The phone cuts off, and I set my phone down. At least he is safe. Might as well just go to sleep and wait to see if the storm has died down by tomorrow. I didn’t even get to tell Coop sorry for being such a know-it-all earlier.
It feels like the whole world is pissed at me for something or another, and right now, I don’t really want to think about why, but Clara’s words from earlier keep running through my mind. “I think the real problem here is that you aren’t in a relationship, and you don’t want anyone close to you to be in one because it makes you feel uncomfortable.” Is it true? Am I the problem?
I toss and turn on the hard floor, and every time I think I am about to fall asleep and get a respite from the thoughts inside my head, a clap of thunder or flash of lightning wakes me up and has me curling into the fetal position. My eyes feel puffy and red from all of the pity crying I have been doing tonight. I turn to my other side, and my hand brushes against something underneath the bed. I pull it out and hold it up, shining my flashlight from my phone, so I can see if I just grabbed a past cottage visitor”s dirty clothes from underneath the bed. But it’s not a past visitor”s piece of clothing; it’s Coop’s button-down shirt.
He must have taken it off, and worn his undershirt when he went to sleep the other night, and forgotten about it when he left to take a shower. I pull it up to my face and breathe in the smell that’s left behind–a briney sea water scent mixed with the pine forest floor– sighing at the comfort it brings. I wish Coop would have said he wanted to stay here with me tonight. The thought enters my head, and my heart starts racing as the realization dawns on me. I just might like Coop a little bit… Okay, maybe more than just a little. My brain is trying to reason with itself and map out in pure Molly spreadsheet fashion where Coop lies on the “How much do you like him?” scale, but having no one else to compare it to, I am at a loss. All I know is that I like Coop, and I wish he was here.