Chapter 17
17
TESSA
Rolling my eyes, I pulled a tureen out of the box in front of me, unrolling the layers of bubble wrap and then setting it on the counter. Claire’s tureen had flowers and vines painted along it. It was not at all my style, but I’d never had a need for a tureen anyway.
I had a million papers to grade at home plus I needed to make plans for this week’s science lessons and prep a novel for discussion, but here I was at Claire and Hudson’s place, unwrapping a big, useless soup pot.
“How are things in here?” Claire asked, leaning into the kitchen, where I’d been left to work alone while Nora and Claire set up the master bedroom and Hudson and Ethan moved furniture.
I gave Claire a wide, reassuring smile, knowing full-well the only thing worse than unpacking Claire’s dishes would be unpacking Claire’s dishes under her neurotic scrutiny. “I found your tureen, so you won’t have to go a single day without soup,” I joked. Claire frowned, but I didn’t mind. I’d known she’d never laugh at that joke.
“Are you sure you don’t need help?” she asked skeptically.
“I’m positive. I’m almost done.” I waved an arm over the two boxes that remained on the counter, hoping she forgot there were two more near my feet.
“Alright. Yell if you need help. I ordered pizza from a place here in Cranberry Falls. It’s supposed to be even better than Paisans.”
“That’s great. I’ll call if I need you,” I promised, though I had no intention of drawing anyone’s attention. Claire was a micro-manager and Nora would do jackshit to help unpack. Instead, I pulled glasses out of the box in front of me, unwrapping them deftly until Claire disappeared once more. Then I pulled out my phone.
Tessa: Do you dislike pizza, or just Paisans?
I set the phone down so I could keep unwrapping glasses, but I kept an eye on the little screen, waiting for the answer.
Grant: I’m happy to eat Paisans if you want.
Frowning, I snatched the phone back up. Why was it so hard to get even a sliver of personal information out of Grant?
Tessa: You’re like a damn CIA operative!
Tessa: Just tell me if you dislike pizza as a whole or Paisans!!!
Grant sent a little laughing emoji.
Grant: The sauce at Paisans is sweet for my liking.
Grant: Did you want to have pizza tonight?
I did, actually, if it meant seeing more of Grant, but I knew I wasn’t getting out of here anytime soon.
Tessa: I can’t. Claire & Hud are moving in today. I’m helping
I added a melting-face emoji, since it fit my present mood well. Grant sent a laughing emoji in reply.
Grant: That's nice of you. Don’t let them boss you around too much. That’s my job.
I smiled down at the phone.
Tessa: Amuse me while I work. Tell me something I don’t know about you
I felt like there were a million things I still didn’t know about Grant, but the answer took a long time to come. I unwrapped glasses while I stared at the little black screen of my phone.
Grant: My favorite color is green.
He seriously was a CIA operative. Even when he was being revealing he wasn’t telling me anything. I picked up the phone, my thumb poised to give an irritable reply, when the next text dinged in.
Grant: But I know you’ll hate that answer.
Winking emoji.
Grant: I absolutely loved surgery.
Grant: I was sure I wanted to stay in the city and be a surgeon forever, like your sister, but then Covid hit.
Grant: There weren’t as many surgeries then, and the days were unrelentingly dark. And I went home to my apartment every night and felt hopeless.
The messages came one after the next and I held the phone in both hands, not bothering to unwrap any glasses while I gave his words my focus.
Grant: My parents probably knew I was struggling, because it was about that time—when my residency finally ended—they suggested coming home and working with my dad.
Grant: And it wasn’t necessarily that the work sounded better, but that I knew I needed to be around my family, because I’d been with so many people who were completely alone. It was beginning to overwhelm me.
Grant: And so I came home.
Grant: But I miss it sometimes—the surgery. Like when I have my otoscope in some kid’s waxy ear, and I think about how it felt the time I got to scrub in on a CABG.
I had no idea what a CABG was, but I didn’t bother to ask. His meaning was clear, and it broke my heart.
Tessa: I’m so sorry. That must be tremendously hard
Grant: Don’t be too sorry. I’ve found myself not thinking about it as much lately.
Tessa: Getting used to being home?
He sent a laughing emoji, and I could imagine his dry chuff.
Grant: Actually, my brain has been a little consumed by a bad case of Baader Meinhof.
I stared at the words for a minute, not sure how to reply. Grant had been my every thought lately, and yet I hadn’t known he was struggling. I must’ve taken too long to reply, because the next message came in a moment later.
Grant: That was supposed to be a nice way of saying you’ve been filling my thoughts. I’m obviously not complaining.
I hesitated, wanting to know more but afraid of his answers. Finally, I typed my biggest fear.
Tessa: Will you go back?
Grant: Back? No. It’s really hard to get back to surgery once you’ve been out.
Grant: Besides, I’ve been enjoying Bridgeport as of late.
Silence reigned between us for a while and I set down my phone, mulling over his words while I unwrapped coffee mugs.
Grant: I probably overshared.
Tessa: Not at all! I wanted to know more about you
Grant: But in the spirit of our agreement, I shouldn’t have said that last stuff.
Tessa: Probably not
Grant: So, now that I’ve overshared, it’s your turn. Why do you seem the tiniest bit unhappy about Claire coming home?
My response was a quick and emphatic lie.
Tessa: I’m not.
How had Grant known I didn’t want her to move back? My heart thundered in my chest, and I looked around the room as if Claire might have secret cameras stationed throughout and would now know my secret.
Even if Claire accidentally seeing my words hadn’t been a very real threat, though, I would’ve struggled to be honest about this. It was humiliating to point out to Grant that the more Davis sisters lived in the area, the more Tessa Davis disappeared.
I anticipated that, with the return of Claire, people would start comparing us again. The Smart One was off being a doctor, The Pretty One just moved back with her fiancé, and The Fun One got married last year. And who was I?
I was The Teacher. The Other One. The Forgotten One.