Chapter 39
CHAPTER THIRTY-NINE
Hailey
I expected to enjoy being home by myself more than I am. It’s … boring.
When I lived with Whitney, I couldn’t wait for the hours she was at work. Any time I could be in the house by myself was heaven.
But living with Jason?
It’s totally different. Even though I still tend to only practice when I know he’ll be gone for a while, and I do my best to keep myself and all my stuff in my room, I know he’s not going to get pissed at me if I leave a book on the coffee table or music I’m looking at on the kitchen table.
He even insisted on making space for me to hang up my purse and coat in the coat closet, saying that it’s ridiculous for me to keep those things in my room when I need to grab them on my way out the door.
“Look,” he’d said when I protested that keeping those things in my room was no problem, dragging me over to the console table by the door.
“Here.” He points at a little carved wooden bowl, a souvenir from somewhere.
“This is where my keys go. I keep them here, then I know where they are. Do you have a fun bowl or dish that you like? You can put it next to mine, and your keys can go there. Then you’ll always know where they are.
And the weather’s not bad now, but it’ll be rainy constantly soon, and you’ll want to be able to take off your shoes and jacket right away.
If you tramp mud and wet through the place, Miss Kim will have my hide.
And I’m not going to take the fall for your crimes.
I’ll throw you under the bus in a second. ”
I’d gaped at him. “What? Me? You wouldn’t.”
“Try me.”
I’d had to bite my tongue at that point, but I’d acquiesced to his insistence that I keep my things in the hall closet—there’s a shoe rack and coat rack, and he added a set of hooks on the back of the door for me to hang my purses.
My keys now live in a dish next to his, though mine’s only a small plate from his regular dishes since I didn’t have anything special.
He says we’ll have to look for one when we do touristy things, either here or later when we travel.
At first, that had given me pause, because why would Jason and I be traveling together?
But now? After what’s happened between us? I get the feeling this was always on his agenda. Sure, he’d never push anything on me. Okay, well, not that kind of thing. Just coat closet space.
But it’s clear he always envisioned us together. And not in any kind of short-term capacity. Or at least, he expects this to function every bit like a real marriage—living together, traveling together, sharing a life together—until I decide I’m ready to move on.
And what if I don’t decide that I’m ready?
It’s a sneaky, whispery thought, and it gives me pause as I’m scrolling through the streaming options on the TV. I have all these choices, but I can’t decide on anything.
There’s no one to tell me what to do, what I should watch, that what I’m watching is annoying or loud or boring or … any number of things I’ve heard a million times nearly my whole life. Nothing I do will bother anyone, and now I can’t figure out what to do with myself.
Sighing, I ignore the temptation of staying here forever and decide to focus on now.
What is it that I want to do with my free time?
I could practice more, but I already did that after Jason left earlier, and while I know there are things I could polish more, I also know I need time to rest between sessions so my brain can integrate the new things I worked on.
No, I’ve practiced enough for today. I’ll do more tomorrow, and that’ll be soon enough.
Picking up my phone, I open my text messages.
I could text one of my friends from back home …
but what’s the point? I wasn’t close to anyone there by the time I left anyway.
Sure, I had a cordial relationship with my quartet colleagues, but we’ve never texted each other updates or gone out for a drink on a random night.
Marissa wants to be that kind of friend, though, so I decide to start with her.
Hey! Are you busy tonight?
I wait. And wait. And wait. It’s really only two minutes, but it feels longer as I stare at my screen. How long should I wait before deciding she’s too busy to answer my text? Should I just call instead? Or is that too much, since I just texted?
No, that’s too much. I already know that answer.
Ugggghhhhh. How am I so bad at figuring out friendships and navigating new relationships?
I don’t want to be annoying, and I’m constantly worried that I’m being annoying.
And Jason makes me feel like it’s a little ridiculous that I’m so worried about that, but I think that’s just him.
He’s not so easily annoyed. Or he finds me less annoying than most. Either way, I know people eventually get sick of me.
That’s how it’s always been. One day he will too, and when that happens, I’ll know it’s my cue to leave.
I just have to be sure not to rush to that eventuality, which is why I do my best to not be annoying while he’s home. Even if he doesn’t think that me practicing and leaving my stuff around is annoying now, it’s because this is all still new. He’ll eventually get fed up. It’s inevitable.
As I’m stewing in my depressing thoughts, I realize it’s been long enough that even if Marissa does answer, she’s surely in the middle of something.
And if I text Tina or Maggie to see if one of them is available, it’s not like we can’t invite Marissa to join us wherever we end up if she responds later tonight.
I go with Tina next.
Hey! You mentioned wanting to get together for coffee or something. Are you free tonight? We could do a dessert or a cocktail since it’s a little late for coffee
Tina
Oh, I wish I could! I always make sure to spend the evening with the kids the first night their dad’s gone, though, so I can’t tonight. We’re having a movie night and a living room picnic! I could do lunch tomorrow, though, if you’re up for that?
She sends a selfie with two cute kids, each of them holding a slice of pizza and grinning. It’s adorable, and that sounds like a lovely tradition, and it makes me even more sad and lonely.
Lunch tomorrow sounds great! You pick the time and place, and I’ll be there. I’m flexible and don’t know where any good lunch places are around here.
My thumb hovers over the send button as I debate how many exclamation points I used.
Just the one, now, though I’d had three at the end of the first sentence at first. Plus another one at the end of the second sentence that I deleted and replaced with a period.
No need to sound overeager or unhinged. Shaking my head at myself, I hit send, then look at my texts with Maggie.
She has a kid, too, so she’s also probably busy.
Sighing, I drop my phone on the couch next to me and pick up the remote. Still nothing from Marissa, so she’s obviously busy too.
Just me and the TV, like I’d planned. I guess I just didn’t realize I should’ve planned out what to watch ahead of time too.
Tina picks a cafe that’s walking distance from Jason’s place—well, my place, or …
our place?—which suits me fine. I won’t have to worry about navigating the streets or finding a place to park.
And the weather’s perfect for a walk—overcast, but not too cold.
And it’s not raining, though at least when it rains here, you barely get wet from what I can tell.
It’s little more than a mist most of the time in my experience.
Not like the summer storms we’d get back home, where it would rain a whole lot all at once, and you’d be soaked to the skin in no time if you were caught out in it.
She’s already there when I walk in, waving to me from a table in the back. She stands as I approach, surprising me by leaning in for a hug. I return the hug, then take off my jacket and drape it over the back of my chair before sitting down.
“I got us menus to look at,” she says almost conspiratorially, “but it’s counter service, so we still have to go up there to order.”
“Oh, okay. That works.” I look over the offerings—a variety of soups and sandwiches, plus mac and cheese and a selection of salads.
“I’ve never actually been here before,” Tina confesses.
“I don’t do lunch in the middle of Seattle very often.
We live more on the outskirts, that way the kids can have a yard.
So I can’t make any recommendations from personal experience, but I hear you can’t go wrong with one of their soup and sandwich combos.
They make all their soups in-house. Let me know when you’re ready. This is my treat.”
My head pops up at that. “Oh, you don’t have to … and anyway, I invited you.”
She waves off my protest. “I insist. You might regret meeting me for lunch by the end of it, so the least I can do is pay.”
My smile falters. “Why would I regret it?”
She laughs, and it dawns on me that she’s nearly as nervous about this as I am.
“Oh, you know. Some people think I can be overbearing. And while I always do my best to make all the wives and girlfriends feel welcome, not everyone wants to be friends with the mom, even if she is the captain’s wife.
” When I open my mouth, unsure how to respond, she smiles and waves it away.
“Sorry. That sounds like some kind of pity party, and that’s not what I mean at all.
Just, y’know, my priorities are different.
And many people don’t have a problem with that, but some people do.
Or our personalities just don’t gel. Isn’t that just part of being human? ”
“For sure.”
“Are you ready to order? I think I know what I want.”
After we order our food, get our drinks, and sit back down, Tina lets out a sigh. “This is fun. I’m so glad you reached out. Nick tells me you’re a violinist?”