Chapter 14
FOURTEEN
COLBY
In a court of law, is lying by omission a crime? I should probably google this. In all fairness, though, I didn’t omit everything when Josie asked about my job. I do, in fact, digitally edit my podcast. That’s part of the gig. I just didn’t tell her everything else. That’s okay, right? No? Maybe?
I still can’t get over what she said yesterday about the podcast and the negative effects on her love life.
I never, ever meant to do anyone harm. Sure, I could just come out and tell her this, but no matter how close we’ve become this last week, I’ve still only known her for a week.
Sure, during this time I’ve spoken to her more than I have any other human in six years—combined.
But yet, I don’t think this obligates me to tell Josie this secret that I hold so close to my heart—the one that is vaulted shut, the one that no human in the world knows—simply because she listened to my show and made a poor decision.
The clock shows it’s after midnight and sleep is useless right now.
I sneak past a snoring Kona to step out of my bedroom, walk the hall to the living room, and peek my head over the couch to see Josie sleeping soundly on it.
Once she started yawning a few hours ago, I’d offered her my bed and said I could take the couch.
She adamantly refused. I then apologized profusely for not having a guest bedroom.
In theory this place has three bedrooms. Mine, the recording studio, and the third I use for storage.
But honestly, since my parents don’t travel, I never expected a guest, so it didn’t seem practical to set it up as such.
I step into my office/recording studio and lock the door behind me—which feels weird. But it’s a necessary precaution; I don’t want Josie to come in and see my noise filters attached all over my room, or the microphone, or the several monitors, and wonder what it is I really do.
I slip on my headphones, leaving one ear popped open, and hit record. “Hey, Amelia,” I say, whispering into the microphone even though the likelihood of my voice carrying is minimal.
I scratch at my neck and take a full breath.
“Well, I slept with someone.” I’m hit with a rush of sensations—my thighs warming from the memory, the ache in my gut from probably not being ready, the guilt.
“And honestly, I don’t know what to think, although I swear I can feel you right now, nudging me with your elbow, saying something like ‘yeah ya did!’ or ‘hell yes’ or some other words of encouragement.
But I’m so conflicted. I know you would be okay with it.
I know if you were right here, you’d tell me I should’ve moved on right away, that I’m wasting the best years of my life.
You’d probably be supremely pissed and irritated that I’ve waited this long, but I don’t know…
It’s just not easy for me to do this. Even if I did want to pursue something, Josie made it super clear that she’s not in the right space for anything.
So, we’ve got two people who regret what they did, and one of us that kind of wants to do it again. ”
I flush admitting this out loud, but it’s true.
Just because I’m feeling guilt and nerves doesn’t mean the idea of sleeping with Josie again hasn’t crossed my mind no less than five times today.
“Ugh… So yeah, I’m not going to lie. Having a super cute, fun woman trapped with me for the next several days is not going to be easy if I keep looking at her mouth. ”
The guilt lingers that I used Josie to help me forget about Amelia. But she said this is her pattern that she’s actively trying to break, so does this negate everything?
“That’s not all,” I say, tapping my fingers against the chair arm.
“She listened to the podcast. And what are the chances that not only was she a listener, but she was a listener who wrote in and took my advice, and it totally backfired. And no, I didn’t tell her it was me.
No one knows! I’m not ready to tell anyone.
But I feel like this lie is simmering beneath the surface, seeping into everything, but maybe I’m overthinking it?
I mean, it’s not like I held her at gunpoint or anything and told her to beg her ex to get back with her. ”
Right? I mean, how was I supposed to know? I do my show for entertainment. Even if I didn’t, even if I was a real relationship guru, I could not possibly have had all the context in the world to offer different advice that didn’t blow up in her face.
“Anyway, I’m just going to take it a day at a time, and hope that the first friend I’ve made since you died will stick with me.”
I spend some more time talking to Amelia, until the time creeps toward 1:00 a.m. I’m still bright-eyed and can’t sleep.
But luckily, my last recorded episode needs edits, and it’s probably a better use of my time to do this now than stare at my ceiling.
I open the app I use to record my show, skip forward my typical intro, and read the question.
“Hey everyone, this next question comes to us from Marcus from Maryland. Marcus says, ‘Hi, Ruby. A few years ago, I had an opportunity for career advancement, and me and my husband chatted about it for a long time. The job is demanding and high pressure—we knew this going in—but the money allows my husband to stay at home, which he wanted. It was a joint decision, but ultimately, we both felt that even with the increase of hours and moving us to a new town, it was worth it. But now I’m two years in, and I need to be totally honest. My hubby is driving me nuts.’”
I take a moment to edit out a way too long pause when I must’ve helped Kona, then dive back into the recording.
“‘We don’t have children or animals, which is a conscious decision, but now that he’s not working, I have become his single, sole focus.
And I love him. I really do. But I get close to ten texts a day from him, sometimes just funny Reels or GIFs.
The second I get home, he wants my full attention.
And I mean full. The rare occasions when there’s a work happy hour that I should be at, he gets incredibly frustrated.
“‘Prior to this, I had hobbies and “me” time, and now I spend every single second of any downtime being with him. Again, I feel like I need to keep saying this, but I really do love him. Last week, I had to miss his birthday dinner, and I felt terrible. But I had no choice. We had a huge launch, and work needed me. Let’s just say, that did not go over well at all.
“‘I’ve tried to talk to him about taking up a hobby or making some friends, but he just gets upset. I’m at a loss here what to do. I am desperate for downtime, desperate for a happy husband, and desperate to keep my job. Thanks, Marcus.’”
I press stop on the recording and crack open the door when I hear Kona shuffling down the hall. After I let her into the room, she slides in at my feet and almost immediately goes back to sleep. I return to the editing screen and press play.
“Hey, Marcus, thank you for this question, but come on, people, just once I need someone to send me an easy one. Like, help, my spouse snores, or my spouse hates cheese, or my spouse hates the movie The Matrix, which we all know are immediate grounds for divorce. Because sweet baby Jesus, ones like this are tough.”
Five years into this show and I’m not sure if I will ever stop cringing at the way I sound. It’s a weird dichotomy. I’m as authentic as I can be. The answers are what I would say. But it’s also very clearly coming through the filter of Amelia’s personality.
“So as you all know, Amelia is the highlight of my day, so I cannot ever imagine having this happen to me.” My voice chuckles and I cringe again at the sound.
“Okay, okay, I jest. I mean, not about the highlight of my day ’cause that’s true.
But also, we very, very much appreciate having alone time, our separate friend time, our own…
” I listen to the rest of my answer, make sure that I didn’t say something completely off the wall.
But what I said still resonates—that it sounds like the husband is feeling lonely, that they have competing priorities, that Marcus themself sounded burned out, and that the emotional toll a high-pressure job takes on a relationship is real.
When I first took my Director of Finance job, I remember the stress, the need to prove myself, and the pulley system yanking me in all directions.
But I also knew that my first priority was always my wife and making sure I was honoring her needs.
And truthfully, at the time, I wasn’t. Amelia and I definitely had some disagreements over that until I set solid boundaries at work.
I type a quick note to add these thoughts to the episode notes.
“As simplistic as it is, and without knowing all the circumstances, I do have a few things to add. For your husband’s birthday, I’m assuming you would’ve known this upfront, made alternative plans, and spoiled the hell out of him on that make-up day.
So that aside, let’s talk about these late nights and launches.
If this is a once-a-quarter occurrence, that’s one thing.
But if these important work events are happening weekly, you really have to evaluate how much the extra income is worth to you.
It’s a very privileged place to say that money isn’t everything, and I fully acknowledge that.
But if you can find a job that maybe makes twenty percent less but has more flexible hours, and it means sacrificing a vacation or two, that’s something to think about.
For me, it comes down to this: When you pass away, the only person who will remember that you stayed at work instead of attending your husband’s birthday dinner is your husband.
You won’t be given a bonus for that day, your VP won’t acknowledge it. But he will never forget.”
As I finish listening to and editing the episode, my eyes finally begin to droop.
I slog back to my room, but before I get there, I make a quick pivot to check on Josie.
She’s still out cold, curled into a fetal position, her cheeks warm and rosy.
The wind outside has slowed, no longer slamming into the house, and the only thing I hear is her soft breaths.
I shouldn’t like it as much as I do.