13
ELEANOR
I still have about two months of my tenure at the music library left, but a lot can change in two months. And from the brief glancing I’ve done at apartment listings, the rental market is just as competitive as Chicago. A little less expensive, thank the Lord. But my pay here reflects the difference in cost of living too.
I really shouldn’t be using my slow Dell computer to look for apartments, especially not at work.
I can’t help myself, though. It’s a compulsion; it has been two weekends since Luke and I found the identity of my mystery woman. And he bought me my boots. Which I happen to be wearing right now.
His work schedule has been packed. I had apparently met him just before a slow couple of weeks. Now, however, he’s not only working his butt off on his usual bookings, but he’s also looking down the pike at Austin City Limits and bookings surrounding the festival.
For all his easy smiles and casual saunters, Luke is a hustler. Sometimes he’s sending me text messages at 3:00 AM, after working late at the office or after a gig.
I’m grateful he’s texting me at all. That he hasn’t forgotten about me. Although this is the longest stretch of time we haven’t seen each other—it’s been 12 days.
Yes, I’ve counted.
Once I reach the listings I’ve already seen, I sigh heavily and glance at the clock. Still an hour until lunch, which means I should do some actual work. Time for a new stack of binders, so I head into one of the aisles and grab the next few.
Work has been less exciting since finding out the truth about the photo. I haven’t had the heart to tell Jolene that I don’t have some cool story that would fit into the exhibition. It’s just a photocopied picture of a singer who has since passed away.
I’ve googled her further of course. But nothing comes up about her music. She still has a private Facebook profile. Her picture is so sweet though, her with a dog lapping at her face.
I would have liked to know her. In many ways, I feel like I do. Diane Bloom has spent so much time in my thoughts. I never had an opportunity to utter a single word to the woman and yet I feel like she’s a part of me.
She’s faded into the background of my life. Not gone. Not forgotten. Just a steady rhythm section to the high-flying melodies and guitar solos of any given moment.
When I return to my workstation, Jolene is peering down at my laptop with a furrowed brow. “Apartments?”
I flush. “Oh, yeah. Sorry. I know I shouldn’t be doing that on the clock,” I say, hurrying to my seat and shutting the window. “I can stay late, I didn’t—”
“So, you think you’re staying?” Jolene asks, a big, beaming smile on her face.
Weirdest boss ever. Best boss, but weirdest too . “Thinking about it.”
Jolene pulls up a chair to sit beside me as I open the next binder. “Does this have anything to do with your ‘friend?’”
I snort. “No,” I say firmly, more for myself than her.
She leans back in her chair and kicks her high heels up on the edge of the table. “Uh-huh . . .”
“Jo,” I scold.
“It’s okay if it is because of him, by the way. I think that’s kind of romantic.”
I pull my glasses off and buff the lenses with the front of my shirt. A nervous habit. Gives me something to do with my hands when I’m uncomfortable. “It’s not because of Luke. I like it here. And it’d be nice to stay.”
“You should! I’d miss you if you left.”
I throw Jolene a small smile. Luke’s not my only friend in town. Jolene has also started integrating me into her friend group. I’ve gone out for happy hours with them and even a dinner party at her friend Meredith’s house. “It’s just a pipe dream, anyway. I don’t have a job lined up. Would be foolish to stay if I don’t even have a job.”
“What’s the status on that picture you were researching?” she asks.
I swallow. “The investigation is stalled.” I’ve been trying to figure out how to regroup with the information I have now. Next steps would require me tracking down the family and, while I’m an insatiably curious person, I haven’t yet gotten the courage to prod them for information on their dead relative. She was young when she passed. It’s still fresh.
“You think you can get something together by the end of next week?” Jolene asks. “A proposal for the exhibit?”
I knead my lips together. “Is that the deadline?”
She smiles sadly.
I’ve pushed away the thought that the picture would help me secure a longer tenure at the museum. Not helpful to think about what could have been if only Diane Bloom hadn’t had breast cancer. Or what could be if I was a little pushier or more assertive. “It’s fine. I haven’t given up yet. And if not, I still have time to figure out my plan to say here.”
“Yeah. You’ve got a couple weeks probably until you really have to put your nose to the grindstone to find a place, but once you hit that month-out mark, you’re going to be in a pool of sharks smelling blood.”
“Jeez, it’s that bad?”
Jolene shrugs. “For the good places.”
I sigh. “And I have to think about that on top of finding a new job? Don’t know how I’m going to manage all of that.”
“You will. And besides, if worst comes to worst, I have a couch you can crash on.”
I scoff. “I’m over thirty, Jo.”
“So?”
“So, crashing on a couch is against my code of conduct at this point.” I can’t imagine the mortification I would feel if I had to live on her couch while I figured out my next steps.
Jolene twirls a finger through her blonde hair. She’s so coquettish in the way she presents herself, but I’ve seen her in meetings. The woman pulls no punches when she doesn’t like what’s being said. I admire people who can be exactly who they are despite the world trying to put them into boxes. “I mean, you could stay with Luke . . .”
“Okay, conversation over,” I say, attempting a joke, but betraying my uneasiness with the unsteadiness of my voice.
“You’re not doing any favors for this ‘nothing is going on’ narrative you’re trying to sell,” Jolene says. She tucks her hands on her stomach and stares me down. Not backing down.
I swallow. There are a lot of reasons I’m trying to push away my attraction to Luke. For one, I’m not convinced his flirting with me is coming from a place of actually wanting me. Too many times, I’ve been a pastime for men to throw their energy at until the woman they actually want comes along. For another, I’m not ready for anything more than what we have. At least . . . I don’t think I am.
Friendship requires a different kind of trust than dating someone, and dating someone requires a different trust than a full-blown relationship. I can trust a friend.
Can I trust someone who is more than that?
I’m not convinced I can quite yet . . .
“I tell you everything, Eleanor,” Jolene says. And that’s the truth. Every morning she walks in and tells me all the details of her life, from the dates she’s going on to something as banal as clipping her toenails. “You don’t owe me your life’s story, but it’s totally obvious that you have feelings for him that aren’t just friendly because every time we talk about him—” Jolene lifts her hands and pinches them. “You clam up completely.”
I chuckle.
My phone buzzes on the table between Jolene and me. We both peer down at it.
Luke’s name is on my phone screen.
I feel Jolene look at me so hard I’m afraid her eyes could peel my skin off.
“He’s texting you in the middle of the workday and nothing is going on?” she asks.
“People text people all the time,” I argue.
“ Girl. ”
I force myself to look at Jolene. Her chin is tipped down and she’s giving me that, “You’re full of shit,” look.
Neither of us speaks.
Jolene waits. And waits. The look growing more and more intense with each passing moment.
“Fine. I like him. Yes.”
“I knew it! Ha!” She claps her hands excitedly.
“But nothing is happening! We’re friends and—”
“Don’t give me that ‘we’re just friends’ BS. You seem like a sensible person, Eleanor, at least way more than me. I don’t believe you’d be fawning over a guy who wasn’t giving you the time of day, huh?”
I gnaw on my lower lips. She’s right. It’s not like Luke is pushing away my touch or trying to avoid spending time with me. In fact, he’s initiated most of our touching. He’s the one who has tried to draw out the time we spend together.
And I keep thinking about that moment at Allens when he stumbled into my back, and I felt him. I think I felt him.
Thick and hard at my back.
I’ve tried to push that thought away, but how can I? The thought of a pretty playboy getting all flustered like that over me is hard to comprehend.
It’s not that I don’t think I’m attractive. I just don’t think I attract people like him .
“Fine. Yes. We flirt. But who is to say it’s anything more than that?”
Jolene raises an eyebrow. “Do you want it to be more than that?”
I drop my head into my hands and groan. “Joleeeeeene.”
“You do! You do, you do, you do!” She grabs my shoulders and shakes me with each word.
“I do!” I exclaim.
She pulls me into a hug. “You have a cruuuuuushhhh!”
I could argue that calling it that sounds childish. Except it feels so good to celebrate the excitement of feeling something like I would back in middle school. Why do we lose the freedom to celebrate? To be candidly childish?
“Yeah, okay, I do,” I say, unable to keep from smiling. “I just don’t know if he feels the same.”
Jolene nudges my phone toward me. “Have you told him?”
My eyes widen. “Why on earth would I do that?”
“Oh my god, don’t be a coward. Guys love it when you’re forward.”
I pick up my phone. The screen brightens again, reminding me of the unopened text from Luke. “I’ve never told a guy I was interested in him.”
“Well, what a perfect time to start! Luke is a beautiful specimen. Might as well shoot your shot. Something tells me, based on everything I know you’re probably not alone in it.”
“Okay, I’ll call him after—”
“You’ll call him now. I insist. As your boss,” she says with a wicked smile.
I shake my head. “You’re ridiculous.”
“You love me.”
I nod. “I do.” And I mean it. It’s much easier to admit to adoring someone as a friend in a short time than as a potential romantic partner. Maybe that’s my problem. I’m treating the two as entirely separate when the fact of the matter is, romance is just an upgrade of friendship, an upgrade you only get once in a blue moon. “Okay. Fine. I’ll do it,” I say, not believing my own gumption.
“Atta girl!”
“Will you stay?” I ask her. “I think I’ll back out if I’m left alone.”
Jolene presses a hand to her chest. “It would be my honor.”
I smile and open the phone to our text message chain.
Luke’s message picks up where we left off last night.
Remind me to never accept a challenge from a drummer when tequila is involved. I’m a dead man walking.
I smile to myself, then press on the bubble of his name at the top of the screen to navigate to his phone number. My thumb hovers over the number. “You’re going to have to push my thumb down, I think,” I say as nerves influx through my body.
Jolene is more than happy to oblige. She also pulls the phone up to my ear. “It’s going to be fine,” she says, rubbing my arm. “He likes you. Worst he can do is—”
“Say no!” I hiss.
The phone rings a couple times. And then—
“I swear, I’m not actually a dead man walking,” Luke answers. “I’m just hungover as all hell.”
“Oh good. I was worried these were your last moments,” I say, flicking my gaze to Jolene.
She gives me an enthusiastic thumbs up.
“Tell my mother I love her,” he says.
My mouth gets hot. “Of course. I better get your hat though.”
“Which one?” he asks cheekily.
I roll my lips together to resist grinning like a madwoman. “Am I interrupting something?” I ask.
“Uh, no, but I have about thirty seconds before a meeting,” he says.
My heart sinks. “Oh, sorry, sorry, I—”
“Don’t apologize.” A moment. “It’s good to hear your voice.”
I look at Jolene for help. I’m going to need resuscitation after this. “It’s good to hear your voice too.”
“Let’s get dinner later this week.”
Is that a date? “Yes.”
“Or a drink more like it. My schedule is packed .”
Guess not. “Totally. Just let me know. I’m . . . I’m free.”
“I’ll text you after my meeting. Thanks for checking in on me.”
“Yeah. Any time.”
Luke says goodbye and hangs up before I can reply. I lower the phone and stare at it blankly.
“What happened?” Jolene asks.
“He’s busy. Really busy. It—” I roll my eyes, trying not to let tears fill my eyes. There’s no reason to cry over something like this. It’s fucking silly. Just a crush. “It wasn’t a good time.”
Jolene’s concern is obvious on her face. She glances up at the clock. “Come on. Early lunch. Burgers and fries. A milkshake. You need it.”