14HarperNovember
Harper
November
Harper watched in mute confusion as, one after the other, all of Ash’s dates for the next week dropped off her calendar. He couldn’t at least text her and say he was canceling? She had to find out from her calendar?
She felt like she was being punished, and Harper wasn’t sure how she was the one who had done something wrong. This was just like with Cooper. She hadn’t told him to propose. She hadn’t even wanted him to propose.
She had wanted to kiss Ash.
But she was getting punished for breaking the deal.
Which wasn’t fair. He’d kissed her!
And then he hadn’t even had the decency to call or text her. Her text about his brother still had three dots saying he was replying. Apparently, it was an epically long message because it had yet to come through, and it had been over a week.
The work Halloween party had been fun, but she’d missed the steady stream of kids that had come to Cooper’s townhouse.
Cooper always complained, but Harper had loved all the kids in their brightly-colored costumes.
She’d been hoping to weasel her way into passing out candy at Ash’s condo. And what about…
All the plans that weren’t going to happen.
With a sinking feeling, Harper realized that for an entire week, she’d been lonely. Ash had made Seattle fun and moving to a new town an adventure. A week without him was depressing.
Harper closed her calendar with determination. She didn’t need him. She could…
Harper looked around the office. Do more work?
“Hey, Harper!” Josh from the traffic group came around the corner of her cubicle. He had brown hair, and Harper remembered that he was a different person from Jake—also in traffic—because he had ear gauges.
“Hi, Josh.”
“Um.” He paused, and Harper waited. “I… we… Well, Piper and the gang, we’re going out after work.”
“That’s nice,” said Harper. Josh fiddled with his ear gauge. The large black hoop was large enough that she could see his finger on the backside of his ear.
“We would like you to come with us,” he said.
“Oh,” said Harper. “I would like that too! Thanks for inviting me!”
Josh beamed. “Great! OK, everyone’s meeting in the lobby at five. We’re walking over to Doyle’s.”
Harper worked until five, looking forward to the excursion. It was proof she didn’t need Ash and that other people liked her. But when she arrived at the front desk promptly at five, she found only Josh waiting for her.
“Where is everyone?”
“They left early to get the big table,” said Josh.
“Ah,” said Harper, nodding. She had heard the trials and tribulations of not getting the big table from Piper.
“But don’t worry,” said Josh confidently, “I told Jake to count us in for the fry order.”
Harper had also heard of the glorious wonder of Doyle’s fries. Apparently, there was garlic and truffle salt.
“Thanks! I haven’t been to Doyle’s yet. I’m looking forward to it. Piper says they also have some sort of sausage appetizer that is to die for.”
“Sausage bites,” said Josh knowingly.
“Are you two off to Doyle’s?” asked Cindy, coming out of the break room. She was the receptionist and seemed to know where everyone was at all times. Piper suggested that she’d been air-tagging them.
“Yeah,” said Harper. “Are you coming too?”
“No, I’m waiting for a package, and then I’m off to see my son in a choir performance.”
“That’s cool,” said Harper. “Has he been singing long?”
“No, and frankly, I kind of wish he’d stop.”
“What?” asked Harper, laughing.
“I don’t want to be a downer, but no one told me that his joining choir meant I’d be getting up early and spending my evenings in elementary school lunch rooms.”
“Oh, you don’t mean that,” said Josh, laughing awkwardly. “It’s just like any other sport.”
“No,” said Cindy, shaking her head. “Sports involves outdoors. This involves third graders absolutely butchering songs I used to like while I suffer educational PTSD from the smell of beans.”
Josh grimaced. “OK, well, we’re going to go,” he said.
“Have fun!” said Cindy cheerfully.
“I can’t believe she said that,” said Josh when they were out of the building and walking toward the pub. It was after five, so it was nearly dark already. Harper still wasn’t used to the short winter days of the Northwest.
“Said what?” asked Harper, trying to figure out what Cindy could have said.
“Any of that! I mean, she’s a mom! She can’t say stuff like that!”
“What was wrong with it?”
“She practically said her son can’t sing!”
“He probably can’t. He’s only in third grade. It would be a miracle if he could carry a tune in a bucket.”
“Yeah, but she can’t say that!”
“Why not?”
“She’s his mom!”
Josh seemed quite upset, and Harper still wasn’t sure why.
“And then that crack about getting up early? What was that?”
“I hate getting up early, too,” said Harper. “Do you like it? Are you a morning person?”
“Well, no, but she’s his mom!”
Harper grabbed at the hood of her rain jacket as a gust of wind tried to blow it back. She felt like Josh meant something other than what he was saying.
“I think this is one of those cultural things that Piper was talking about,” said Harper.
“What?”
“Piper told me this story about her mom, and I think we’re having a communication difficulty because I don’t understand what her being his mother has to do with her enjoying getting up early or listening to him sing.”
“Moms are supposed to love all that stuff.”
“Oh, I don’t think so,” said Harper. “I mean, I’m not a parent, but I wouldn’t think becoming one would make me suddenly tone deaf and like getting up early.”
“My mom did!” snapped Josh. “She always loved all my band performances from when I was ten to now.”
“Well, yes, but that’s probably because she loves you, not because she thought all of your performances were that great.”
They reached the door to the pub, and Harper looked over at Josh as she reached for the door handle. He looked upset.
“I mean… You were ten. You probably didn’t start off playing well.”
“I played great,” he snapped and walked through the door ahead of her.
Harper followed him inside, but Josh quickly cut through the crowd without waiting for her, and when they reached the table, she saw that he’d taken the last good seat and left her to crowd into the awkward chair in the middle. She couldn’t help thinking that Ash wouldn’t have done that.
Harper managed to wedge in between Piper and Denise, the Project Manager, and realized she would be leaving soon. The voices created an overwhelming din, and the fries would not be good enough to compensate.
“Hey,” said Piper, leaning in to yell-talk at a volume that was only understandable to them. Then she glanced across the table where Josh was trying to flag down a waitress. “Everything OK?”
“I think I offended Josh by suggesting that his mother loved him but probably didn’t always think his musical performances were stellar.”
Piper burst out laughing.
“I’m really not sure why that’s upsetting,” said Harper, scratching her head. “I mean, nobody starts off playing any instrument beautifully.”
“Yeah, but see, the thing is that sometimes boys never stop believing when their mom tells them they’re wonderful.”
“Well, I’m sure he was wonderful for a ten-year-old. It’s always great to see a kid progress, but it doesn’t mean his mom loved every second of listening to a ten-year-old learn the guitar.”
“Boys expect women to lie,” said Piper.
“No, that doesn’t work out,” Harper said. “If they know it’s a lie, then Josh knows I’m right.”
“Yeah, that’s why he’s mad,” said Piper. “He’s mad because you’re refusing to continue the lie.”
“Oh,” said Harper. “I don’t think I know how to do that.”
“Nope,” said Piper. “And you really shouldn’t bother to learn.”
Harper stared at Piper, trying to puzzle through her words. “But it doesn’t make any sense, and I don’t understand why it’s that big of a deal. It’s just a mom being a normal human.”
“Oh, yeah,” said Denise, turning around, “Moms aren’t allowed to be normal humans.
That really upsets people—men and women.
After my first kid was born, I told my best friend—that’s the woman who has known me since I was fourteen—that I kind of thought my baby was a little on the ugly side.
I mean, I love the little booger, but right after she came out, she kind of had that Winston Churchill look, you know?
” Piper started to chuckle. “She got a lot cuter once her head got less pointy. And even at the time, I didn’t think being an uggo was a permanent state. ”
“Oh God!” wailed Piper, her shoulders shaking in laughter.
“Anyway, you would have thought I’d declared I was thinking about taking up cannibalism as a hobby. She told me that I needed to seek help.”
“But you were just being realistic,” said Harper.
“But moms aren’t supposed to be realistic.
They are supposed to uphold the mom mythology.
It’s a patriotic duty. It’s the doctrine of blah blah blah.
I don’t even know. I think it’s just an extension of what’s been expected of all women, but it distills down like liquor for moms. Like we need the extra stress. ”
Harper felt a gut punch of fierce rage. “You can tell me your baby is ugly if you want,” she said, squeezing Denise’s arm.
Denise laughed and patted Harper’s hand. “I swear she really did get cute. Babies and kids change so much in such a short time.”
Harper let go, feeling a little silly. “I just meant you don’t have to pretend things if you don’t feel them.”
“Yes, I know, and thanks. But the same goes for you. Take it from someone on the other side of forty. Don’t waste your time on people who require you to be something you’re not in order to be accepted.”
Piper leaned over Harper to wrap an arm around Denise’s shoulders and hugged her.
“Thanks, wise lady,” said Piper.
Denise laughed. “Well, I don’t know about wise, but I know a few things.”
Harper felt that Denise knew some things that Harper could barely identify, let alone put into words.
Josh stayed on his side of the table, and after fries and half a beer, Harper decided she’d had enough.
Declining Piper’s offer for a ride, Harper returned to the office to grab her lunch bag and change her walking-to-work shoes.
The walk back to the office was dark, blustery, and aligned with her mood.
She liked her office friends, but she still missed Ash.
He hadn’t been delusional about the singing skills of small, untrained children or expected her to be something she wasn’t.
She swiped her card at the entrance and jogged up the stairs to her floor.
What she needed was to find something that would put Ash out of her head.
He was obviously ghosting her on purpose.
She should take the hint. Harper resolved to try the dating apps again or maybe join some sort of club. Ash was gone. She could accept that.
But when she got to her desk, she found a Post-it note from Cindy on her screen.
A cute guy stopped by after you left. Said he thought you had plans.
And just like that, Ash was back.