25. Nova
25
NOVA
I swiped at tears as I left the kitchen and headed toward the garage. Once inside, it took a moment for me to find the truck that Bryan was so generously letting me borrow. He had more cars than I realized. The truck wasn’t what I expected. It wasn’t oversized and shiny. It was old and beat up and probably qualified as being vintage. But it wasn’t cool looking. It didn’t have the nifty rounded fenders that I thought of vintage cars as having. It was all squared off and a little dented, clearly a truck that had been well used.
I climbed in. I was dubious it would start, but it started without problem, and more importantly, the heater worked. It felt sturdy to drive. Unlike my little car that felt as if it would slide off the road in a stiff breeze, the truck felt secure. It wasn’t going to go anywhere unless it wanted to.
As I drove over the melting snow and slushy ice patches, I silently thanked Bryan over and over for letting me use this truck and not one of his fancy, expensive cars I would have been terrified of getting scratched. I pulled it into the closest available space at the apartment complex, locked up, and headed to my building and up the stairs.
Nothing had changed much. I couldn’t tell that the heat and the power had been off for over twelve hours. I had only been gone overnight, but this place no longer felt like home. It was as cozy and homey as any room from any mid-level hotel chain. Other than the fact that my underwear were left on the floor in the bedroom, it didn’t feel like I lived here. And it smelled funny.
It wasn’t filled with the smells of freshly baked Christmas cookies or the warm, savory scent of roasted meat. Nothing about my little apartment felt right. And it certainly did not feel like Christmas.
I hadn’t even bothered to put up a tree, not even one of those little two-foot-tall, pre-lit, fake ones.
There was no holiday cheer here. I had left all of that back at Bryan’s house with him and Amelia.
I grabbed one of the throw pillows that I had purchased in an attempt to liven up the place, and give it the personal touch, and sat on my threadbare couch. I hugged the pillow tight and started crying again.
Everything had gone so incredibly wrong. I felt like I belonged somewhere, that I had been wanted. I shook my head. That wasn’t reality. Reality was that the help doesn’t eat dinner with the family. The help isn’t friends with the family. I was nothing but a hired member of staff.
What happened between Bryan and me didn’t matter. It was nothing more than a visceral reaction to a potentially bad situation. I knew I was lucky that he had found me when he had. I knew exactly how lucky I was to be bundled up and set in front of a fire. And I knew when he took me upstairs to his bedroom that it was simply a physical reminder that I was alive and had all of my toes. What happened between us was temporary, even more temporary than my cooking for him.
How was I going to do this?
Maybe I shouldn’t. Maybe I should quit working for him and quit the school, pack everything up, and go back to Atlanta.
“Argh,” I groaned and threw the pillow across the room.
This sucked. This all sucked.
I got up, took my coat off, and turned the heater on. It came on with the smell of burning dust. I turned up the heat and crossed the tiny living room and turned on the TV. I had thought I was splurging on a large screen when I bought it. I realized how naive I had been. It wasn’t nearly as large as the TV in Bryan’s kitchen was. What I considered a splurge, he probably thought of as pocket change. I must have looked silly, being so proud in my self-righteousness of purchasing some socks off the angel tree when it was nothing to him to just buy up the whole damned tree.
I turned the sound up. Maybe with some noise and distraction, I wouldn’t realize exactly how alone and lonely I really was or how much of a fool I had made myself out to be.
An ad for car insurance reminded me that my car was broken down in a ditch under a pile of snow, and I wasn’t going to be able to get it towed out of there for another couple of days. I needed to call my insurance company.
I pulled out my phone and looked at the front of it. It was late. I didn’t want to be that person who called late on a holiday. Whoever was stuck working tonight was there for emergencies. They didn’t need to deal with my problems. My car wasn’t going anywhere. I could call in a couple of days.
I added that to my mental to-do list— call the insurance company . Right after I called the tow truck. Or maybe I should call the insurance company first so I could figure out where the tow truck needed to take my car? That made more sense.
“Oh, God, how am I gonna pay for all of this?”
I was barely making ends meet as it was. I couldn’t quit my job with Bryan. I needed that money for rent and utilities. Finances were tight already. Everything about moving up here had been a horrible mistake.
I still had my phone in my hands. When everything went wrong, there was one person who I knew would always make me feel better.
“Mom?” I whined into the phone as soon as she answered.
“Nova, baby, how are you? Did you get your car thing situated?”
“No, it’s still in a ditch. I’m not in danger, and the car’s not interfering with traffic, so they said they’re not going to get to it until after the holiday.”
“That’s right, you mentioned that. How are you going to be able to get around until you get that taken care of?” she asked.
“The guy I’m working for?—”
“The one you’re cooking for, yes, what about him? He’s going to drive you?”
“He’s lending me one of his cars.”
“That sounds like he’s very rich,” she said. She had no idea. To be fair, I didn’t fully grasp how rich he was, either.
“Yeah, he’s loaded, Mom. I mean, who else can afford to hire a full-time cook, right?”
“You do have a point there, dear. So, he’s lending you one of his cars. Is it fancy, a sports car, or did he give you one of those luxury sedans?”
“It’s an old, beat up pickup truck,” I said.
“Oh, okay.” I could hear the tone in her voice change completely. She was less than impressed.
“I don’t blame them for lending me the pickup, as opposed to his little red sports car. After all, I drove my Toyota off the side of the road.”
“He has a little red sports car?”
“Several. They aren’t all red, though. But yeah, it’s low and flat to the road, looks futuristic and expensive. I think the red one might be a Ferrari?”
“A Ferrari?”
“But he normally drives around in a big SUV. You know, a family car.”
“And what is this rich boss of yours doing tonight?” she asked.
Living his life without me.
“I made dinner for him and his family. His mother was there.”
“That sounds nice. You’ve met his mother? Did you have a good time?” She asked the question as if I wasn’t completely giving her the whole story. Yes, I had met his mother, but not in the way she was asking. I wasn’t dating him, and this wasn’t him introducing me to his mother for that reason.
“I cooked for them, Mom. I didn’t eat dinner with them.” I had called her to make me feel good, not to remind me that I wasn’t part of Bryan’s world.
“What did you make? Tell me everything.”
I described the dinner and the desserts. She oohed and ahhed appropriately. It reminded me that I hadn’t made anything for myself to eat. My stomach rumbled.
And while I knew they had leftovers at the house—I packed them and put them in the refrigerator.
I didn’t know what I had to eat here. I continued to talk to Mom as I got up and began rummaging through my kitchen. I had a couple of packets of ramen noodles and a box of mac and cheese. I had to have a can of tuna fish around here somewhere. Not exactly holiday food, but there was nothing wrong with a little tuna casserole.
“What are your plans for tomorrow?” Mom asked.
“I don’t know.” I shrugged. “I’ve got the day off. I guess I’ll see if there’s a good movie playing in the next town over. I’ll sleep in, take it easy for the day. I haven’t had a day off in a long time.”
“Nonsense. You haven’t had to teach since break started. You’ve had plenty of time off. The life of a teacher.”
“Mom, I might not be teaching, but I am working.” I was always working. I needed to change the topic of conversation immediately, or I would start crying on the phone. “Are you and Dad having a good Christmas Eve?”
“We are. He’s already fallen asleep in his recliner. We were watching one of those Christmas romance movies when you called.”
“I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to interrupt your movie.”
“Oh, don’t worry about that. I’m glad you called. I should get your father up and into bed. He always complains about his back when he falls asleep in that old recliner. I thought about getting a new one for Christmas. Maybe I will with all the after Christmas shopping sales.”
“Love you, Mom. I’ll call in the morning. But not until after I wake up. I swear I’m going to sleep in.”
I managed to not cry out of self pity until she told me she loved me too and ended the call.