40. Jess
Anna:
OMG YOU’RE GOING TO BE HERE IN LIKE 2 DAYS!
*excited girl GIF*
*squealing pig GIF*
I know Valentine’s Day was a couple weeks ago but since you might still be crying, I have lots of chocolate, tequila, and a whole Netflix watchlist of action movies at the ready. I’m already the best roommate in the history of time.
Ben:
I can’t believe you’re really leaving! This place won’t be the same without you. I might call in sick on Monday.
Sammie:
We love you, Jess! We’ll miss you!
Kennedi:
Please go to the Wonderland Murder House and send me pictures!
Ben:
Have an incredible time out there and don’t forget you promised you’d actually come back.
It’s uncharacteristically warm for late February, especially this morning. We’re hovering in that zone where spring wants to pop out, but winter keeps punching it in the face.
“Anything else?” Chris asks as he hefts my last suitcase into the bed of his truck.
“No, I think that’s it. Thank you so much for letting me borrow your truck while I’m out there. I could never have fit this all in my car.”
He closes the tailgate and hands me the keys. “Now take good care of her, all right? She’s a lady, she likes to be sung to. She likes to feel appreciated.”
I smile. “You know I’m not trying to date the truck, right?”
He stares at me but puts a hand on the side of the vehicle. “Don’t listen to her, baby, she’s just sad she’s leaving.”
I can’t help it, I start to cry. For the thousandth time since I left Connor in the hospital four weeks ago. “I am sad I’m leaving,” I whimper.
Chris chuckles and puts his arms around me. “Hey, hey, knock that shit off. This move is not permanent, right? Right?”
“Right.”
“You’re gonna get out there safely and impress the hell out of all those animating people and come back home. I know last night was tough, but you worked your ass off for this and you deserve good things, okay?”
I nod, trying to keep more tears at bay as I think about the going away party my family threw for me last night. The going away party Connor was conspicuously absent from. I’m not sure why it bothers me so much; I don’t even know if he knows I’m leaving. I don’t know what I’d have said to him if he had been there. But in the end, it was hard enough saying goodbye to everyone else, so it’s probably good I didn’t have to worry about him.
Even though I do worry about him. “How’s your brother been?” I pull away and ask.
It’s a topic neither one of us has brought up in over a month. I’m not sure what Connor or Scott have told him, if anything, and I don’t want him to feel like he’s in the middle or has to choose. All I know is he doesn’t want Connor driving anywhere, so he’s been his brother’s personal chauffeur.
Chris seems surprised by the question. “He’s a cranky asshole, but I’ll keep you posted if anything changes.”
I force a smile and nod.
He shifts his weight, his mind clearly grappling with something, and he finally asks, “What the hell happened there? Will you please tell me? Because he won’t say a word and it’s driving me insane.”
I do my own mind-grappling before I hold up his keys. “Do you have some time to have breakfast with me before I head out?”
“Are you mad?” I ask. “You look really mad.”
“Not mad,” he says. “Just processing.”
This feels oddly familiar.
“Take your time,” I answer. “I’m still processing it myself.”
“So just so I’m clear, he broke up with you and then wanted to shake on it?”
“I mean…there was more to it than that, but that’s the general overview, yeah.”
“Hmm.”
And that’s all he says for the next 30 to possibly 985 seconds. But I know better than to interrupt Chris when he’s collecting his thoughts.
“Did you tell him you’re leaving?” he asks.
I shake my head. “No, I never got a chance to. He wasn’t at the party last night, I thought maybe someone told him and he just didn’t want to come.”
“If you didn’t tell him, then no one else has, I know that.”
I admit it feels better to hear that he just didn’t know. After what I’d told him about Alex and my birthday, I don’t think I could handle Connor blatantly bailing.
The server cheerfully sets our food down, oblivious to the gloom over the table. I’m not hungry, but Chris told me I’m not allowed to drive “his baby” on an empty stomach.
I stare at my eggs and toast and Chris pulls my attention to him. “Work was all he had after Mom died,” he says. “Neither one of us had ever known Dad to lose his composure before, but he was a mess. So we both did what we knew how to do. And for Connor, that was always work.”
“And for you it was taking care of everyone,” I note.
“What?”
“Chris, come on, I remember everything you did. You were the one who handled all the arrangements, you moved back home for how many months to help your dad? Like six? And then you gave up your place in the city to get a house closer to him so you’d be there if he needed anything. You brought dinners to my parents.”
“I made chili, there are a lot of leftovers when you cook for just one person,” he defends. “And anyway, this isn’t about me, so don’t change the subject.”
I chuckle and dip my toast into some egg yolk. “You are so much like Anna. Always the caretaker, but no one can take care of you guys.”
“Yeah, well, Anna sounds like a lovely woman.”
“She’s my roomie for the next five months.”
“The blonde you FaceTime with?”
I nod.
His eyebrows shoot up and he nods his head. “Anna is a lovely woman!”
“She’s the best, you’d love her,” I say simply. It sounds better than begging him to come out with me and meet her in person. And keep me company on the trip.
“Hey,” he says. “I’m not getting in the middle here, but just…my brother can get his head caught in his ass sometimes, but I know he cares about you. He just doesn’t understand what it’s like to have a real human girlfriend.”
The tears well up again, so I shove a piece of toast in my mouth to keep from crying in the restaurant and brush my hands on my napkin. Digging into my purse, I pull out a small drawstring bag and hand it to him.
“Aw, you got me a going away gift? Is it money?”
“It’s for Connor.”
“Why does he get a gift?” he grumbles.
“It’s not a gift, it’s…it’s just…can you please just give it to him? I feel terrible asking, I was going to mail it, but I don’t want it to get lost in the mail and I don’t want to text him to let him know to look for it and I?—”
“I’ll give it to him,” he says and tucks it into his jacket pocket. “No worries.”
“Thank you.”
“But you owe me a gift.”
I smile. “Psh! The gift of my friendship,” I say, and huck a small piece of toast at him.
“Your presence is not present enough, I’m gonna need a little bit more.”
At that, I’m able to fully let out a laugh for the first time in a long while and it feels good. I’ll probably cry all the way to California, but at least for a moment I can enjoy a break.