Chapter 5
Just as I enter through the automatic doors of Whole Foods, I’m interrupted by my ringing phone. I retrieve my cell from my purse and roll my eyes at the caller screen. My mother. After lunch with my parents, the rest of our visit was about as pleasant as a root canal. We made small talk over a pan of tuna casserole to the best of our ability, and I snuck out of there as early as I could.
“Hi, Mom. Everything okay?” I ask into the phone, balancing it between my ear and shoulder while I retrieve a shopping cart.
“Well, yes.” She answers, already sounding annoyed. “I just wanted to check on you, to make sure you made it home. You never called me last night.”
“Oh crap, I’m sorry.” I say, raising the palm of my hand to my forehead. She told me to call her when I got home and it completely slipped my mind. I was so ready to escape, I completely forgot to say anything about staying with Avery. “Last night I spent the night at Avery’s and just got back this morning. I actually just stopped at the store on the way home.”
“I was just worried that you were dead in a ditch somewhere.” She says with a hint of sarcasm in her tone.
“I know. I really am sorry, and I didn’t mean to make you worry.” I won’t question why she didn’t call me yesterday when she didn’t hear from me, instead of waiting until today. I would have been very dead in a ditch by now.
“You could have stayed here last night. We have more than enough casserole in the fridge. I could have sent some home to feed you, Elliott, and Avery for a week.”
I laugh. “Sorry mom. Throw it in the freezer. You and dad will be set until Thanksgiving.”
“Oh, you mean the next time I’ll see you?” She asks dryly. My mother rarely misses an opportunity to point out the fact that she doesn’t see me nearly as often as she would like to.
Unless someone else dies between now and then, I think. I would not dare say that, of course. I would be the next one to die and my mother would drive up here to do the job herself. Well, she would make my dad drive her. She’s not a fan of driving in the city.
She changes the subject. “Did you say you are out at the grocery store? Is Elliott with you?”
“Nope, he’s working…I think. I just pulled into town and haven’t even been home yet. I’m just stopping at the store to grab a few things for dinner, so I don’t have to get back out later.”
“I hope you have your pepper spray with you.”
I pat my crossbody purse I’m wearing slung over one shoulder as I wander through the aisles. “Yep, my hot pink pepper spray is in my purse, ready to protect me from all the villains that run around the Whole Foods parking lot.”
She ignores my sass. “I just hate the thought of you wandering around the city all by yourself.”
“I know, but I am being safe, I promise.”
She sighs in disbelief and then changes the subject. “It was great to see you yesterday. I wish Elliott could have come too.”
Here we go again.
“Me too. He’s been working on a big project and there was just no chance he could get away yesterday. Maybe we can all get together for dinner soon.” I say, making an empty promise.
“You know, speaking of Elliott.” Mom interrupts the silence. “Joyce told me yesterday that her son Roger is getting married next month. She asked me when you and Elliott are finally going to get married.” She stammers. “I wasn’t sure what to tell her.”
Real smooth, Mom.“Well, I’m not really sure what to tell her, either.” I say, balancing my phone between my ear and my shoulder.
“I just don’t understand why he hasn’t asked you. Why hasn’t he? I would really love to have some grandchildren before I die.”
It’s a great question. I’ll admit, I’ve been wondering the same myself for a while now. Still, I have no answers for her.
“Beats me, mom. Probably my sparkling personality is too much for him.” I answer dryly. “Mom, I thought you didn’t like Elliott, why are you so concerned about me marrying him?”
She pauses thoughtfully, just long enough that I’m not sure she’s still on the line. “Oh Tyler, it’s not that I don’t like him. Honestly, I don’t know him well enough to dislike him.”
I want to argue with this statement, but she’s not wrong. I don’t visit often at all, but he rarely comes with me when I do. He is usually busy with work or the gym, and truthfully he’s not a fan of Fawn Creek or any small towns in general. If he does come visit he’s usually bored out of his mind, or making fun of the townsfolk before we’ve been here for an hour. I don’t even bother eating a meal in town when he’s with me because there is always something for him to nitpick.
“Tyler, I just want nothing else than for you to be happy. If Elliott is who makes you happy, then I want that for you. He must be something special if you two have been together for all these years.”
For some reason, her words slice through me like a knife. Am I happy? Is there a reason we’ve been together for all this time? Why did going back home stir up all these questions in my heart? I can’t get into this right now.
“Mom, I better get going. It looks like there is a gang initiation happening in the granola aisle and if I want a good seat, I need to get there early. Love you.” I wait just long enough to hear her say a quick, “I love you, too.” Before I press the end call button and shove the phone in my back pocket.
I know my mom means well. I really do, and believe me, she isn’t the only one that wonders why I’m not engaged yet. In fact, this is the second time in two days that I’ve been asked about the status of my relationship. I wish I had answers to give other people, but more than anything, I wish I had some answers for myself.
Elliott and I have been together for three years. When we moved in together, I thought cohabitating would be nothing more than a stepping stone. Instead, it appears that it was more of a life sentence. We live in his parents’ rental house, and they charge us a minimal amount for rent, just enough to cover property taxes and insurance. This enables us to use our money elsewhere. Because of this, we were able to pay off our cars and student loans rather quickly. With no debts to speak of, that has allowed us to each build up substantial individual savings accounts, keeping them completely separate of course. We split our bills and household purchases directly in half and try to keep things as equal as possible. It’s a system that’s worked well for us so far, even if the arrangement raises eyebrows among our friends and families.
I thought maybe once we paid all the debts off, he would finally pop the question. I thought so again regarding our savings accounts. Once we each had $10,000 in the bank, I was sure a proposal was coming. However, I’ve gotten nothing but crickets. Every time I think it’s coming, I’m let down. I don’t want to push him, and I don’t want him to feel pressured. However, we are kind of at a point in our relationship where it feels necessary to have a discussion about our future.
Avery and I have hashed this out before, many times in fact. I tell her I don’t want him to propose because he thinks he has to. She says that if I don’t have this talk with him, I’m going to waste my chance to have a family. She’s right, of course. It’s no secret that I’m getting older, and I thought I’d be further than this by now. I was sure by 22 I’d be married and by 25 I’d have my first baby. That was the plan, anyway. Now, at 28, it may be time to realize that my plan, just like my bookstore, was nothing more than a wish. I hate to admit it, but my mom and Avery make a valid point. I’m going to have to approach this subject with him, whether or not I like it. The only question is, how?
The front door opens with a click and the sound of Elliott’s shoes landing on the hardwood floor echo throughout the house. I’m in the kitchen, finishing up the homemade guacamole when I hear him.
“Hey, you!” I yell across the house before moving to the fridge to pull out the pitcher of margaritas I have chilling in there.
He peeks his head into the kitchen. “Hey.” He answers with a tired smile before moving across the room to lightly kiss my lips.
“Hungry?” I ask, nuzzling my face to his chest, breathing in his scent. I’ve missed him. We aren’t the type of couple that needs to talk often when we are apart, but I always cherish the moments when we are finally back together.
Elliott surveys the kitchen, and I admit I’m sure it looks as though I went a bit overboard with dinner. Cooking is one of my favorite distractions and today I really need to be distracted. I just finished making steak street tacos. Between those and the rice, beans, chips, queso, guacamole, and salsa, I have just enough food to feed a small army. Every surface of our kitchen is covered with various serving bowls. I’m going to have to have the conversation with Elliott that’s on the tip of my tongue or I’m going to gain twenty pounds.
Elliott places his backpack in an empty seat at the dining room table and pulls out his laptop. “How much are you going to hate me if I say I’m not hungry?” He asks, setting up a workspace on the table. “I had a big lunch today.”
My smile drops immediately. I don’t even have the energy to hide my disappointment after the week I’ve had. This was a lot of work to just feed myself, but I guess it’s probably my fault for not saying anything to him first. I had shot him a text that I was home and asked if he needed anything while I was out running errands, but I had not mentioned that I was making a feast for dinner.
Reluctantly, I make my plate. After placing my food on the table, I salt a margarita glass and offer him one.
He shakes his head and waves me off without removing his eyes from the laptop. “No, thanks. I’ve got to get some more work done.”
I frown. This is already not going the way I need it to. How am I going to have a heart to heart with him if he’s too busy working to even look at me?
I carry my drink to the table and take a seat across from him. Quietly, I pick at my food while I watch him. He’s typing away at the keyboard and concentrating on the task in front of him, completely oblivious to the worries that are consuming my every thought.
He stops typing, and his eyes move to mine. I smile at him, but it’s obviously forced. This time he reads my expression.
“What’s up?” He asks, still not moving his hands from the keyboard.
“Oh, nothing. I just don’t want to interrupt you while you’re working.” I say, moving some food around on my plate. “Want to do something together tomorrow? Maybe we can go to the Farmer’s Market?”
“Sorry, I’m going to have to work tomorrow.” He says, eyes back on his screen. “But you should definitely go to the market if you want to.”
I shrug in response. My attempt to have some one-on-one time this weekend is failing miserably.
“How was Fawn Creek?” He asks while he stands from his chair and moves to retrieve a bottle of water from the fridge.
“It was good.” I say, leaning back in my chair. “I found out Sierra is getting married.”
“I don’t think I know who that is, do I?” Elliott asks, sitting back at the table, finally giving me his attention. To Elliott, Fawn Creek is like some mythical land that I tell him stories about. He doesn’t have any connections to the town, and why would he? He’s only been there twice in the three years we’ve been together.
“That’s the little girl I used to babysit when I was a teenager. I can’t believe she’s old enough to get married.” I pause, waiting for him to say something, but I’m met with silence. It’s now or never, I suppose. “Elliott, speaking of people getting married…” I start, moving my plate towards the center of the table and then downing the rest of my margarita. “Can I ask you something?”
“Uh, sure.” He responds, finally moving his computer out from between the two of us, giving me his full attention. Unfortunately, the moment is interrupted by his phone ringing loudly on the table between us. He looks at the caller screen and frowns. “Sorry, I have to take this,” He mumbles quickly before putting the phone to his ear, cutting off my febrile attempt at a confrontation.
Almost immediately, he carries his laptop to the spare bedroom to solve whatever IT Emergency has popped up at work. And of course, I’m left in the kitchen surrounded by enough tacos to feed a small army. Mindlessly, I clean up the mess and carefully pack away the leftovers while waiting for him to return. By the time I wipe the counters down, I have not only lost hope of seeing him again before bedtime, but I’ve also lost the courage to push the issue any further. With that, I down the rest of my second glass of margarita and send myself to bed alone.