27. Daphne
27
DAPHNE
“Good morning!” I call out, entering our area of the office.
Mallory is in the kitchen fixing a mug of cocoa.
“Good morning. Aren’t you cute? I love the red shoes! Are you doing okay?”
“Thanks. I went spelunking in my closet.” I grab my mug and fill it with hot water, leaning my hip against the counter while I unwrap my tea bag and drop it in. “I’m okay. Logan arrived in Madrid safely.”
Grabbing a stirrer, sweetener, and a paper towel, I pick up my mug and walk to my desk.
“I apologize in advance if I’m mopey or grumpy. I also apologize for constantly saying, ‘It’s only five weeks. We got this.’ It’s my mantra. I guess it’s my version of fake it until you make it. ”
Mallory smiles. “You do you, boo. It sucks to be apart. I can’t do it.” She stirs her cocoa to get the powder mix to dissolve. “But the sex when you’re back together is going to be awesome.” She blows on her cocoa and takes a cautious sip. “Welcome home sex is stellar.” She grimaces. “Well, it is when you’ve both been abstaining while separated. When you find out you’re the only one who has been celibate while he’s gone because he caught an STI while away…it sucks.”
I have a feeling that’s a story Mallory needs to share over a box of wine. She must see the expression of horror on my face because she laughs.
“Don’t worry. That won’t happen to you guys. Logan is crazy for you. He’s one of the good guys.”
That reminds me. “Did you want to grab lunch together today? We haven’t done that in a while, and there’s stuff I want to talk about. But not in the office.”
It must intrigue her because her brows quirk up, and she smirks.
“Sure. Francisco’s?”
She names the local pizza place down the road. They have excellent salads, so I can try to undo all the cheese I ate yesterday.
I nod. With lunch settled, we both log in to our computers and start working through our tasks for the morning. It’s the end of the month, so I’m inundated with payoff requests for people selling their condos and preparing those forms for the title companies. Yay. I didn’t need my degree in accounting to do this. I’m grateful for this job. I’m paid well. The benefits are great, and it isn’t difficult. It’s just boring. That was what I wanted at the time—stability and predictability. I didn’t want to be challenged.
But now I’m feeling differently and wanting more than safety and a small life. Now I need to figure out how I’m going to get it.
“My car or yours?” Mallory asks as we grab our purses and exit the office. She drives a cute green Mini Cooper.
“Yours,” I decide.
We ride the couple of miles to Francisco’s. After ordering at the counter, each having decided on a chicken Caesar salad, we choose a booth along the far wall.
Mallory takes a sip of her Sprite and asks, “So, what’s up? You had something you wanted to talk about?”
Our server, Lindsey, drops off a basket of warm Italian bread, and I busy myself buttering a slice before answering.
“Yeah, I do.” It’s silly I’m nervous, but I am. “I’m going to ask to cut my hours to part-time in the new year, and I want to take vacation time the week of Thanksgiving.”
Lindsey delivers our salads, and we smile our thanks up at her.
“I didn’t know if you were hoping to take any time off for the holidays. If you were, I wanted to coordinate it, so we both get the time we want.”
Unwrapping her silverware, Mallory replies, “I’m flying to visit my parents for Thanksgiving, but I plan to leave on Wednesday afternoon. You being gone won’t impact that.”
She uses her fork to stir the salad and distribute the dressing.
“I’m going to cash out most of my vacation time. You know you can do whatever you want. You don’t have to clear things with me.”
I nod, chewing my first bite of salad. I wish it was a cheeseburger.
She loads her fork with chicken and lettuce. “I think it’s great you’re taking time off. I hope you’re planning on traveling with Logan.”
I shrug. “I know I don’t need your permission to adjust my hours, but it could affect you, so I wanted to give you a heads-up. I don’t know if more work would fall in your lap, or if they’d just close the department. I sometimes think they have things as they are so there’s a spot for me to work. I know they hired me because of my connection to Logan. I was essentially a pity hire. I appreciate it, it’s what I needed at the time, but it’s not right for me. I didn’t want to blindside you.” I take a sip of my iced tea. “I still need to work out how much I’m comfortable traveling with Logan. I need the health insurance and other benefits, so I need to work enough hours to keep my benefit status.”
Swallowing her bite of salad, Mallory wipes her mouth. “Daphne, you’re very sweet, but seriously, don’t worry about me. I’ll be fine whatever happens. I can get another job pretty easily. I have law firms reach out to recruit me all the time.” She takes a sip of her soda. “If they closed our department, they’d most likely offer us positions in another department. They would welcome you in payroll or accounting if you wanted. They hired me to work in leasing. I’m in collections only because George and Martha were retiring, and it was easy to slot me in there. I don’t think they’d lay either of us off. We’re outstanding employees.” She grins. “I stay because it’s a reasonably easy, well-paying job, and I have the best coworker.”
I smile back at her. “I definitely lucked out having you for my dungeon mate this past year, Mallory. Thanks for not freaking out.” I decide to press my luck. “Do you have plans for Saturday afternoon?” I caught her mid-bite.
She holds up a finger in the universal sign for wait a minute, and then she replies. “No. Saturday I was planning on hanging at home doing laundry and bingeing Netflix. Sunday morning, I’m meeting my girls for breakfast. You’re welcome to join us. Why?”
“So I want to try filming a tour out at the wildlife refuge. Wear a head-mounted camera so the viewers see things from my point of view and hear me talk about what I’m seeing. I spent hours last night watching different tours on YouTube, and it’s so cool. I’ve always wanted to be a tour guide, and this is a new twenty-first-century way of doing it. There are portals you can sign up with to be hired to give live virtual tours to people who reserve them. You can upload pre-recorded tours and have them available to rent. Or you can stream them on YouTube, maybe get monetized if you have enough viewers, get tipped via pay apps, set up a merchandise shop with T-shirts and mugs. There are tons of things you could do with it. I can handle the filming and editing, my friend Shelby has equipment to loan me and has given me some tips, but I’ll feel awkward walking through the woods alone, talking to myself. If you’re there, I can talk to you and not feel like a goober.”
“Oh, my goodness, that sounds so cool! I haven’t been out to the refuge in forever. Count me in!”
With our plans made for Saturday, I shimmy in my seat and do a little clap of happiness. Anyone looking at me would think I was a dork. I don’t care. This is the first step toward my future.
The rest of the workday passes quietly. I stop for groceries and enter my house. I was going to cook myself dinner, but I only have an hour before I connect with Logan, and there are a few things I want to do, so I picked up a spicy turkey club sandwich from Wawa on my way home. I sit at the breakfast bar with my laptop and take a bite of my sandwich while my computer wakes up. My passport sits on the counter in front of me. When I retrieved it from the fireproof box I keep my important papers in, I saw my parents’ passports lying there, too. They had renewed them right before the accident, and they arrived a week after their funeral. They were looking forward to filling them up with stamps once I left for college, and they were going to visit me on whatever semester abroad program I chose. Their old passports only had a stamp from the trip to Jamaica they took when I was seven. It was their long-awaited honeymoon. They had gotten pregnant with me when they were in college, so had a small wedding and a weekend getaway honeymoon. Big weddings and grand honeymoons weren’t options when you needed to pay your tuition for senior year and start saving for Pampers.
Once Foster Accounting was on solid ground and I was in school, they left me with Gran and Pops and took a week away. Seeing their new unstamped passports makes me sadder than looking at my own expired, unstamped passport. I only had one trip planned. I was going to go to Spain with my high school’s Spanish club the summer between junior and senior years. That didn’t happen. Just like all the trips Mom and Dad planned never happened. I lock away the sadness with the passports in the safe and pop open my computer, my ghost mom’s reminder to live life to the fullest ringing in my mind.
“Okay, what do I need to do to renew my passport?” I google and fill out what I need to, splurging to get it renewed in an expedited manner and kicking myself for letting it expire. I should have started the renewal process months ago since it was due to expire in August, but I didn’t. I wasn’t going anywhere. There was no rush. I hate it when past me was an idiot.
I can’t believe only two and a half weeks ago I was sitting on this couch with my phone and iPad, drinking my rum and Diet Pepsi, waiting for Logan to FaceTime me from Prague. So much has changed since then. We’ve snuggled and made out on this couch, we’ve cooked meals together in the kitchen, and we’ve slept together in our bed.
Nothing has really changed, though. I’m still working at a job that doesn’t fulfill me, and he’s still thousands of miles away, traveling and going on his adventures. I have ideas to change things so we can be together, and I’m hopeful Logan will support me.
The FaceTime notification shows up exactly at seven, and I click to connect. Logan’s handsome face fills the screen. He is in bed with his chest bare and his hair rumpled. He must have slept before calling me.
“Hey, Sunshine. How was your day?” Oh my, Logan’s voice is all deep and rumbly, and I feel it in my core.
I press my thighs together in reflex.
“It was good. I had lunch with Mallory, and we talked about work stuff.” I take a deep breath and blurt out, “Would you be okay if I cut back to part-time after the new year? I need to know the minimum number of hours I need to keep my health insurance and make enough to cover my bills, but I think I can structure my schedule so I can travel with you a bit. I can’t travel full-time, but I want to be with you.”
My hands are shaking. I’m nervous. How will he respond? I clasp them and hold them in my lap so Logan can’t see.
His large, radiant smile reassures me. “Daphne, yes! Absolutely! I love it. Have you spoken to Uncle Will?”
I guess he’s good with the idea.
“I haven’t spoken to him yet. I wanted to let Mallory know first since this will affect her. I don’t know if my going part-time will be the impetus to close the department, or if they’d pile more work on her. They could lay us both off, but Mallory doubts that will happen. She figures they’ll move us over to something else within the legal department. I don’t think I’d like that, but I don’t know what I’d want to do.”
I’m rambling because I’m nervous, which is silly because this is Logan. I can tell him anything. He’s wanted me to quit or cut back forever so I can travel with him. He’s always wanted that. Gah, why am I nervous?
“Daph, breathe. It’s okay. I know you’re scared, but I got you.” Logan’s words are reassuring. But having him here with his arms around me would be even better.
“I know. It’s scary. I haven’t even done anything yet beyond talking to Mallory, but that felt like a commitment to changing, and you know I don’t do change well.”
“That’s not true, sunshine. You’ve had so much change and upheaval in your life, and you’ve dealt with it. It makes sense to want to control the things you can when so much in your life has been out of your control.”
I feel the prick of tears because he finally understands me. He’s always been my friend and has accepted me for who I am, mostly, but I’m aware I frustrate him sometimes with my reluctance to jump into things. He never knew fearless, adventurous me. I thought she died when my parents did, but it turns out she only went into hibernation, and she’s about to reawaken as an older, wiser, more cautious version of that girl. This version knows there are things to be cautious of but is not afraid because she’s strong enough to deal with what comes her way.
The years since my parents’ deaths may have tempered the fearlessness and sense of spontaneity I had as a girl, but they gave me strength and resiliency. I’m grateful for that. Finally. Accepting and understanding are two different things, and feeling understood is stirring unexpected feelings in me. We spent the past week exploring each other’s bodies, but I think this is the most intimate with another person I’ve ever felt.
Sniffling, I choke out, “Oh, Logan, my heart. Oh, thank you for the necklace! I love it! It’s beautiful.”
When he sees my tears, an expression of alarm crosses his face.
I giggle. My tears are his kryptonite. It’s a weapon I’m careful not to use against him. “I’m okay. Don’t worry. I’m happy. How was your day? You spent time with Mari?” It’s easier to change the subject than delve into my feelings tonight. “I hope you got pictures of the kids.”
Going along with my change of subject, Logan replies, “I did. I’ll send them in the morning. Mari sends her love.”
I smile. I’ve never met Marisol in person, but we’ve texted and chatted a few times. I know she and Logan were never lovers, but I sometimes still feel insecure about their friendship. Mari is deeply in love with her husband though, and even if she wasn’t, there isn’t a romantic spark between her and Logan.
She’s his very good friend, and I’m glad they’re friends. I was jealous for a while because it appeared that she had everything I’d never have, but I got over that years ago. I have something she’ll never have—Logan’s heart.
It’s the middle of the night for him, so I don’t intend on keeping him on the phone too late.
“Were you leaving Madrid tomorrow? Well, in the morning, I guess. For you. It’s already tomorrow there.”
“I am leaving Madrid in the morning and starting the drive to Lisbon, and then I’m going to Goleg? for the Feira Nacional do Cavalo.” I love the accent he uses to pronounce that. “The Portuguese National Horse Fair.” Logan knows I’ve always loved horses. I wish I was going with him, but there will be other years. “There are equestrian competitions in show jumping, dressage, driving, and other disciplines and cultural events like art exhibits and photography showcases.” He shifts in bed, and I enjoy watching his muscles flex. “Have you ever gone to the Devon Horse Show?”
From Portugal to Pennsylvania, that’s a leap. “Nope, have you?”
He shakes his head. “No. We should go next year. I think it’s in May?”
I can’t help my grin because he’s planning on being here in May. “I’d love that.”
Logan yawns, and I glance at the clock over the TV. It’s almost half past one in the morning there. He must be tired. Even though he slept on the plane, today was a long day, and his body is off schedule.
“How far is the drive?” I ask Logan. “Can you do it in one day?” I can find Madrid and Lisbon on a map and judge the distance in miles, but that doesn’t tell me how long the drive truly is. I don’t know what the highway system is like, the speed limits, or if there are places he’ll want to stop at along the way.
“It’s about four hundred miles to Lisbon, and if I drove straight there, it would be about a seven-hour drive. I could easily do it in one day, but I will most likely take two days. There are a few places I’ve read about that I want to explore.” He yawns again.
“Honey,” I say, “go back to sleep. I want you well-rested for your drive tomorrow. Text me whenever you want, and we’ll figure out when to talk next. With my work schedule and the time difference, we’ll have to figure out when we can talk without exhausting each other.”
“I’m sorry, sunshine,” Logan says through a jaw-cracking yawn. “I want to spend time with you. I imagined me being propped up on the couch next to you watching TV through your iPad, but I’m beat.”
I think he means he’ll stay on FaceTime while I point my tablet at the television so we can watch the same show at the same time. But who the heck knows?
“It’s okay, Logan. We’ll figure this out. Sleep well and dream of me.” I blow him a kiss, and he makes a kissy face back to me. We tell each other goodbye and other mushy things and disconnect.
Grabbing a pen and paper, I write lists of what I want to do and the steps I need to take to get it done. I don’t know if it’s an accounting thing or a trait I picked up from my parents, but I love writing lists, developing budgets, and making sure things balance. Having a plan in writing and the steps I need to take to carry them out broken down so I can check them off makes my little control freak heart happy.
“Thanks, Mom and Dad,” I say to the empty room. I get a whiff of the aftershave Dad used to wear, but it’s fleeting. Maybe I imagined it, but I’m choosing to take it as an acknowledgment of my thanks and a gesture of support.
“All righty, I’ve taken care of what I can do tonight. Time to relax with my knitting and watch some rugby.”
Even knowing the outcome of the matches, I like to watch my recordings. They’re good company in my quiet house. Plus, rugby thighs. I first became a fan of rugby watching Logan play for the club team at our university. I started attending matches to support him, but soon the pace and excitement of the game caught my attention. Okay, so did thirty guys in shorts. But I’m not the rugby equivalent of a puck bunny or jersey chaser. Ruck bunny? I don’t know what they call them, but I’m not one.
Would Logan like to go to a professional rugby match with me?
Time to start a new list—adventures I want to take.
As I write, I decide to do two lists: one for things in North America and the other list for adventures overseas. Of course, my lists end up morphing into Google searches and bookmark collections. Ideas are coming at me in a flood, and I record notes on my phone using the dictation feature. I sign up for travel guides and newsletters. I watch so many YouTube videos.
“Ooh, this is so cool,” I gush as I click play on the next one. I can’t wait to share my ideas with Logan. Realizing it’s almost midnight, I close my laptop and get ready for bed. I shoot a little video of me and Mooster in bed telling Logan goodnight.
I smile as I settle into bed and turn on the TV, hoping Murder, She Wrote will lull me to sleep. I can’t wait for the weekend. If the weather cooperates, my plan is workable. My final thought before I drift off to sleep is that I should add visiting the places where Jessica Fletcher has solved murders to my list of adventures. She’s traveled all around the world, and someday soon, I will too.