Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
I t took me a few days to pull myself back together. After using up what little remained of my PTO days, I sulked back into the office. There were papers to sign, ads to post, and an inbox full of email. My eyes went straight to the receipt from Wright Painting Services, waiting near the top. I clicked open. It was an itemized list for the work Gary did at Aunt Catherine’s house. All business. Nothing more. Nothing less.
It had been a while since they had seen me, so Bonnie and Joyce were eager to catch up. Bonnie was planning a trip to Pigeon Forge and asked me if I had ever been to Dollywood. Joyce was planning a train trip through the mountains of Switzerland and asked me if I had ever worn snow shoes. I wasn’t in the mood for chit chatting, so I politely excused myself and hunkered down in my cube with a pair of noise cancelling headphones. The gray partitions walled me off from the world. For the first time in the history of modern office furniture, sitting there in my cubicle felt cozy and safe.
For the rest of the afternoon, I threw myself into my work. Left alone with no one to bother me, I could finally get things done. I scoped out half a dozen properties, got a new listing from a web referral, and returned the backlog of calls to clients and brokers.
I would have loved to have tried the quiet quitting thing, but the remodeling costs for Aunt Catherine’s house were piling up and I had a feeling the credit card companies wouldn’t be so quiet if I quit paying their bills. Gary’s invoice alone wiped out a sizable chunk of my bank account.
Putting all my time and energy into my job turned out to be the best thing I could have done with myself. The more I thought about real estate, the less I thought about Janet and Jack. The less I thought about Gary. I kept crossing things off from my marathon length To-Do list until well after Bonnie and Joyce had gone home. To spend time with their families. Something I didn’t have to worry about. I didn’t even realize how late it was until the janitor turned off the lights.
That night, I plopped down on the couch and turned on the television. You’ll never guess what came on. Family Feud. Because of course it would. Steve Harvey was on fire. Every other answer was probably going to end up on YouTube.
At least Gary wasn’t there to call out the answers before I did. To be honest, it was kind of nice to get some quality time for myself. I could lounge around in my pajamas without worrying about my hair or my make-up. I could eat an entire half gallon of pistachio ice cream, with no one judging me. There was no one there to smell me, so I didn’t even have to shower.
I knew my luck was finally shifting when Purrfect jumped up on the couch with me and didn’t even hiss. Granted, she stuck her butt in my face and whacked me in the head with her tail, but I considered that progress. Once I felt better, I also got my appetite back, even after all the ice cream.
I had put in a long day, and I had accomplished a lot, so I treated myself. I ordered an extra large, extra cheese pizza from Antonio’s, which had their dough shipped in straight from New York, so it was way better than any of the chain places around town. At the last minute, I asked the pizza girl to add spinach, you know, so it would be healthy. The best part was I didn’t have to share it with anybody, so I could have the whole thing to myself.
Later, as I was sitting in the bathroom picking spinach out of my teeth, I had a moment of clarity. Like a lightning bolt straight from the sky. I knew exactly where I had gone wrong. I had been distracted by all the distractions. Distracted by feelings. Distracted by relationships. Distracted by love. I had been so busy crafting plans and hatching schemes I had gone completely off track. Book signings? Nature walks? Dungeons and Dragons? Distractions all. A complete waste of time.
What I wanted didn’t matter. What I needed was all that did matter. And what I needed was to focus on work. As I continued sitting there waiting for the pizza and my stomach to reach some sort of compromise, I decided right then and there that I would put all of my focus on work from now on. My number one priority was finishing Aunt Catherine’s house and getting it sold. Before the bank repossessed my car.
Sitting there waiting for the pizza to figure out which way it was going next, I realized that when you let yourself fall victim to spending too much time with someone, you lose sight of what really matters in life. Like making money. Paying bills. And checking out the balance of your 401k every couple of hours to see how much longer you have to earn a paycheck before you can quit civilization, run away to a remote tropical island, and drink strawberry daiquiris all day. Where you never have to see or talk to anyone ever again.
Jack had become a distraction.
Gary had become a distraction.
Even Janet, my best friend, had become a distraction.
What did I know about relationships? Nothing. Which is why I never should have gotten involved at all. I must have been out of my mind for wasting so much time with Gary. We never had a chance. Like burning a candle from both ends. No, not a candle, a stick of dynamite. Eventually, inevitably, it was going to explode. Like eating an entire pizza with extra cheese and spinach.
* * *
A week went by. Janet never called me back. Jack never called me back. And no, Gary didn’t call me back either.
The good news was that because everyone I knew and cared about had abandoned me, it made it a lot easier to uphold my new oath. It’s easy to avoid distractions when they never come your way.
Over those next few weeks, I focused all of my time and energy on getting Aunt Catherine’s house ready for the market. I rearranged the furniture a couple hundred times. I switched out the flowers in the clay pots on the porch. I scrubbed down the wallpaper with a non-bleach cleaner and a soft sponge so the little pink blossoms really popped, careful not to touch the penciled measurements. The new owners would surely erase them, but I couldn’t do it myself.
When things were as close to perfect as I could get them, I planned an open house, advertising all over Central Florida. I started printing a stack of flyers on the office copy machine, but then it jammed on me, backed up like a gastrointestinal track trying to digest an entire cheese and spinach pizza.
Bonnie helped me fish a mangled piece of copy paper out of the inner bowels of the machine. “So you’re really going to sell it?”
Joyce must have seen the puzzled look on my face because she added, “You put so much work into it. Seems a shame to let it go.”
I had put a lot of work into that house. And I had to admit, the place had really come together. Purrfect was happy there, obviously. After all, he had stayed even after Aunt Catherine was gone. Not to mention the pool was perfect for entertaining. Especially if someone came over that had kids. But I didn’t have to worry about that anymore. I doubted I would ever entertain anyone ever again.
“Of course I’m going to sell it,” I said, using two hands to extract a crinkled sheet from the feeder tray. “I don’t need a lot of space for one person. And a big house like that means there’s more to take care of and keep clean. Why wouldn’t I sell it?”
“Sentimental value?” Joyce offered.
“I have no sentiments.” I wadded up the crinkled piece of paper and threw it in the trash. “That’s the problem with society today. Houses are things that shouldn’t evoke any kind of emotion. They’re assets. Investments to be bought and sold. And if I don’t sell my Aunt Catherine’s place, my asset is going to turn into a liability real fast.”
Bonnie and Joyce must have read my expression because they said nothing more.
Once the copy machine was ungummed, I finished printing out the flyers and passed a few around to the other agents in the office. I wrote the access code for the front door on each of them so they could show Aunt Catherine’s house to their clients, even if I wasn’t there.
“You’ll come first thing in the morning when I have the open house, right?” I asked Bonnie and Joyce to bring their clients over early, so I could use them for a dry-run.
“Sure, I have a retired pastor who wants to move to this area with his wife and mother-in-law,” said Joyce.
“And I’ve got a family from Miami with four kids,” said Bonnie. “They’ve been looking for a house with a pool.”
“Great,” I said, as I packed up my things to go. My plan was to stuff all the flyers under doormats and tape them to light poles. But then I thought of an even better place to distribute the flyers, with high foot traffic and a captive audience. A new plan formed.
* * *
I waited until Sunday, the day of the farmer’s market at Lake Eola. I got there first thing in the morning, to stake out a suitable spot in the flyer line. Those free colon screening people were vicious, so I had to establish my territory early.
That’s what I told myself. But I think we all know why I was really there.
I handed out a few flyers, then caught myself drifting further and further down the line. Past the acupuncture lady. Past the save the whales dude. Past the ‘You’re All Going to Hell Unless You Find Jesus’ guy at the very end of the line.
I handed out a few more flyers, but it was hard to concentrate. I tried to look past all the swans nesting under the trees, but I couldn’t see Gary’s tent from where I was standing. Was he even there?
No distractions. No distractions. No distractions.
I repeated the words in my head over and over, commanding my brain to focus. No distractions. But I was too weak. I handed my entire stack of flyers to a confused woman pushing a stroller, then marched toward the back of the park. I didn’t even stop to sample the pretzel dips.
As I made my way around the vegan food truck, I saw Michelle and Joan set up in the same spot as before. But the space next to them was empty. I looked everywhere, spinning like a top. I saw the woman with the unicorn and rainbow paintings. The driftwood and chicken wire guy was there. So was the woman with the sea shell wind chimes. But there was no sign of Gary.
“Mary!” Joan waved me over, her arms covered with bands of woven hemp.
Michelle’s mouth was stuffed with funnel cake as I stepped under their tent. Swallowing, she said, “What are you doing here?”
“I was looking for Gary.”
“Bout time you came around.” Joan turned to Michelle. “You owe me twenty bucks.” Turning back to me, Joan said, “I knew you’d come to your senses eventually.”
My voice squeaked out of my throat. “He told you what happened?” A wave of shame washed over me.
“He did,” Joan confirmed. “That was pretty dumb.”
“Really dumb,” said Michelle, nodding.
“I know.” Kissing Jack wasn’t just pretty dumb, or really dumb, it was stupendously idiotic. And then, adding insult to injury, what I said about Gary was even worse.
Michelle must have recognized the torment I was feeling because she put down her funnel cake, walked over, and gave me a big hug. “It’s okay hun. We all do dumb things sometimes. Especially to the people we love.” Michelle turned toward Joan with a meaningful look.
“What?” Joan held up her hands. “How was I supposed to know you were allergic to marshmallows?”
“Because we’ve been together for twenty-three years.”
“You never once talked about marshmallows.”
“Because I’m allergic to them.”
Joan set her fists on her hips. “What about that time we went camping at that nudist colony? The guy in the Winnebago made s’mores.”
While Michelle and Joan continued to debate the topic of Michelle’s gelatin allergy, I was rewinding my brain to the point in the conversation right after Michelle hugged me, when she said, “We all do dumb things sometimes. Especially to the people we love.”
“Wait a second,” I said, interrupting a contentious story about an unfortunate Thanksgiving jello mold incident. “Why did you say that part about doing dumb things to the people we love?”
“Haven’t you been listening?” Michelle raised an eyebrow. “She tried to poison me with a marshmallow. How dumb is that?” Then she whirled on Joan. “Unless you did it on purpose. You know that life insurance policy we had expired twelve years ago?”
“No, not the dumb part,” I interrupted once again, before the debate continued to spiral. “I’m talking about the love part. Who said anything about love?”
At that point, both Michelle and Joan rolled their eyes. If synchronized eye rolling had been an Olympic sport, they would have won gold. Joan said, “Oh Mary, please. It was obvious the day you were here.”
“Plus, he talks about you constantly,” said Michelle. “It’s always Mary did this to me, and Mary did that to me.”
“Gary talks about me?”
Joan snorted. “All the time.”
Michelle added, “He still does. Even after everything.”
Gary still talks about me? I couldn’t believe what I was hearing.
“Did you really out him at a book signing?” Joan asked.
“That was an accident,” I answered. “He won’t return my calls.”
“That’s because Gary’s stubborn,” Michelle said.
“See? They’re perfect together.” Joan elbowed Michelle in the ribs.
“Although after all he’s been through, you can’t really blame the guy.” Michelle smiled as she took Joan’s hand. “I mean, if something ever happened to you, I would never open my heart ever again. Too painful to risk getting hurt.” Michelle’s forehead crinkled. “Unless you poisoned me with another marshmallow. Then I would use the life insurance money to go on a cross-country tour of nudist colonies.”
Interrupting once again, I said, “Do you know where Gary is? I really need to talk to him.”
Joan and Michelle exchanged a serious look, then got quiet. Not even another marshmallow reference.
“What?” I asked. The look on their faces made me queasy.
Michelle said, “He went to see Ann today.”
“Ann?” Gary’s wife.
Joan nodded. “It would have been their anniversary today.”
The lump in my throat was the size of a watermelon. Somehow I asked, “Do you know where she is?”
* * *
The graves didn’t line up in straight, tidy rows like I expected. Some had headstones sticking up out of the grass. Others only had a plaque sunk into the ground, weeds poking up along the edges. Every once in a while, there was a bigger tomb, some with intricate carvings and others with angels on top carved in stone. There were lots of flowers. Roses. Lilies. Carnations. Most of them were dead and rotting, left behind by loved ones as a last farewell.
I would have expected grey skies and thunderclouds to match my mood. But the sky that day was bright blue, the sun a vibrant shade of canary yellow. As I picked my way through the grave sites, I saw an older woman standing next to a grave, just staring off into space. She wasn’t crying. Her shoulders didn’t sag or slump. She just looked numb. I imagined she was there to see her husband. The man she had probably spent her entire life with, and now he was gone. At least she had had someone to grow old with, I thought. At least she had had someone to love.
I found Gary on a bench in the shade. Towering oaks with sprawling branches blanketed the area in shadows. For a minute I considered making some sort of grand gesture. You know, like in the movies. But I didn’t have a boom box to lift over my head. I didn’t own a guitar and I couldn’t sing a song. So I decided to just be … normal … for once. I just walked over. Silently begging the Universe to not let me screw it up. Tears already forming in my eyes.
I just stood there in front of him, waiting for him to say something or even move. I suppose I was lucky he didn’t immediately run away screaming. At least that was something, I thought. After a few moments, I sat down on the bench beside him. He still didn’t run, but he didn’t say anything either. He just sat there quietly, looking off into the distance.
I sat there too. I kept hoping he would say something first because even though I had been racking my brain the entire drive over, I still didn’t have a clue what I could say to make everything right.
Again, I started simple. “I’m sorry.”
Somewhere in the distance, a bird chattered. Across the cemetery, a groundsman raked leaves. Across the infinite cosmos, a billion new galaxies were born and a billion old galaxies died.
Gary stared at the line of ants foraging through the dirt at his feet.
“Say something,” I begged.
“Say something? You want me to say something?” Gary’s eyes were empty. “What do you want me to say?”
What did I want him to say?
Like I had any clue. I couldn’t figure out I wanted to say to him, let alone figure out what I wanted him to say to me. Did I want him to say that he had accepted my apology? Sure, that would be nice. Did I want him to say that he had forgotten all about the horrible things that I had done and everything could go back to how it was? If only. Did I want him to yell at me and scream at me and tell me he never wanted to see me again? No, please no, anything but that. Even if it was exactly what I deserved.
Raking the back of my hand over my face, wiping away the tears, I said, “I want you to say to me what you said before.”
I could see the gears shifting in his head, not quite locking into place. “And what exactly did I say before that you want me to say again?”
“That you want to be with me.” I tried to steady my racing heartbeat, but every blood vessel in my body felt like it was about to burst.
When I first got there, Gary wouldn’t even look at me. Now, he wouldn’t look away. “Why would you want me to say that?”
“Because then I can say …” I dug deep. “… that I want to be with you, too.”
Gary’s eyes flared. The whirlpools became water spouts, erupting high into the air. If he was still breathing, I couldn’t tell. “I thought you didn’t want to be with anyone.”
“I didn’t,” I said, taking another one of those deep breaths. “Until I met you.”
We were only a foot or two away from each other, sitting there on that bench, but we were miles apart. It was like one of those science fiction movies. Where the bad guys are about to blow up the good guys with their giant laser. Until the force field appears. A greenish glow that walls off the Earth and protects humanity. I watched as the greenish glow formed around Gary. Whatever he was thinking, whatever he was feeling, it was now locked up tight.
“I’m sorry I didn’t realize how I really felt a lot sooner. I’m sorry that I hurt you. If I could take it all back, I would.”
“But you can’t Mary. You can’t just take it all back. What’s done is done.”
“It’s not too late,” I started. “We’ll just start over. You know, take it from the top.” I fired my laser beam and Gary’s force field bounced it right back in my face.
“It doesn’t work that way, Mary.” Gary looked at me long and hard. “At least not for me, it doesn’t.” His next words seeped out through clenched teeth. “Besides, like you said, you and I would be a disaster.”
Gary got up from the bench.
He began walking back toward the parking lot.
I waited for him to stop.
I waited for him to turn back around.
He didn’t.
Just like that … he was gone.
I sat there staring after him, kept sitting there, long after he left.
After the cemetery, that’s when I knew it was really over. Gary and I were through. The final nail hammered into the coffin, and any chance we ever had tossed in a hole and buried deep underground.
As I trudged back across the cemetery, weaving in and out of the tombstones, I realized Ralph had been right. I should have just left Gary alone. The poor guy had been through enough thanks to me. So I swore to myself I wouldn’t repeat my mistakes. I made a promise to myself that I would never see or talk to Gary ever again.