Chapter 9 #4
That’s right, Cece thinks. She never told him about the oyster farm job, the job she doesn’t really have anymore.
Still, she wants to see how he’ll react.
The timing had been bad at the distillery, although if she’s being honest, timing didn’t have much to do with it.
She doesn’t know how Jonathan will react to hearing about her work at Rayburn.
Then again, why should it matter? Isn’t this new version of Cece supposed to be different?
How can she expect things to go differently for them if she makes the same mistakes?
She takes the plunge. “I’ve been working at an oyster farm for the last month, but it’s just temporary. I actually have an actuary job interview on Monday in the city.”
“An oyster farm…like a place where they grow oysters…in the ocean.”
“That’s pretty much it,” Cece says, watching Jonathan for any signs of disapproval. “I’ve been really enjoying the work. It’s completely different from what I’m used to doing…Lots of manual labor.”
“Sounds like you really like it.”
“I guess I do…I don’t know. With your job, don’t you ever wonder whether you’d be happier doing something else for a living? Or whether you’re missing out on some other career because you’ve been on the same path for so long?”
Jonathan scans the silk-draped ceiling. “I guess I’ve never thought about it.
There’s always something to do, but that’s just the nature of the financial market.
It never sleeps. You can always be doing something.
And what makes me happy isn’t necessarily the work, but the things I get to do with the money I earn, like that trip we took to Italy together, having this lunch with you, or driving my new coupe with the top down. Those things bring me happiness.”
“When you say it like that, it doesn’t seem like such a difficult decision.”
“You’re having second thoughts about your oyster career?”
“What would you say if I told you I wanted to keep working on this oyster farm?”
“I’d say go for it.”
“Be serious.”
“I am.”
“A month and a half ago, we were engaged, now you’re okay with me going into aquaculture, a field I know barely anything about.”
“Married, a house and kids. Do I want those things? Absolutely, but it doesn’t mean we have to have them now.
And if you’re really into this oyster thing, you should explore it, but you should have a plan.
How much time are you willing to dedicate?
When will you call it quits if you don’t meet certain benchmarks?
Is it something you want to make a career out of?
Do you want to scale up the business? Or do you want to start your own farm?
I’ll support it. Heck, I could even give you seed money to get it off the ground.
Just show me a road map, Cece. I need to understand where you’re going, but if you shut me out and panic, then I’m in the dark.
I’ll admit, I got out a little over my skis.
All my friends are getting married, and my parents haven’t exactly been subtle about how much they want to be grandparents.
I’m not immune to that kind of pressure.
But after I told my parents about us breaking up, I think they understood. ”
“But what if I never know for sure about any of those things?”
“Is this the same Cece Downing who passed her actuary exams faster than anyone else at her company? The same Cece Downing who finished first in the two-hundred-meter backstroke with a partially torn labrum? You don’t give yourself enough credit.”
“I’m just saying—what if we reach an impasse?”
“Then we reach an impasse, but at least we’ll know we reached it instead of bailing out before. Plus, Cece, we were good together, and we can be again.”
Cheeks warm from the wine, the arches of her feet aching from their walk around the museum, Cece finds Jonathan’s logic unassailable.
He’s right; they were good together. Cece feels the tension drain from her temple—the concerns of stability and money easily healed with a quick glance into her imagined future.
This is steady ground, rock solid. And yet, like a shout in a storm, the whisper of a question teases at the corner of her mind.
“Why are you giving us another shot? I mean, I’ve screwed things up spectacularly.
Why aren’t you out there painting the town red? ”
Jonathan laughs, a lighthearted laugh. “We spent four years together, Cece. That’s the longest I’ve ever been with anyone.
Same for you, too, I think…It’s a known quantity, what we have together.
There aren’t any surprises, in the best possible way.
It’s bedrock between us, and I want to see what we can build together.
I’m old enough to recognize something good.
When I was younger, I always judged a relationship by things like passion and desire, and you need those things, too, but a relationship can’t survive on just those emotions.
As for painting the town red—you know that isn’t really my style. ”
Later, many years later, Cece will recall this lunch in detail.
She will remember the honey-colored curtains framing the front window of the restaurant; she will remember the sound of the wine bottle sinking in its bucket with each melting ice cube; she will remember the hint of vanilla on her lips from the torrija they ordered for dessert.
She will remember Jonathan handing his credit card to the waiter without looking at the bill.
But now, here, Jonathan seated across from her, Cece is only aware of her gratitude for this man who is willing to forgive her colossal blunder.
And while she won’t say it aloud for fear of ruining the moment, she’s thankful to him for seeing past her foibles and her shortcomings, her anxieties and her indecisions.
Jonathan insists on walking Cece back to her car in the parking garage. Without Yale students in session or the weekday commuters, downtown is oddly quiet, the streets vacant and hushed.
“Thanks for the today,” Cece says after opening her car door. “I didn’t realize how much I needed it.”
“Anytime,” Jonathan says. He looks like he wants to say more but doesn’t.
“I’d prefer if we left things undefined…if that’s all right with you.”
“Sure,” Jonathan says with his trademark confidence. “It’s not like we’re involved with other people or anything.”
Cece thinks of Morgan, his beard against her neck, hands on her lower back, chapped lips that tasted like woodsmoke and molasses.
It had only happened once—no—twice, but that didn’t mean anything.
It was foolishness and lust—there was no depending on such whims. This, Cece thinks, Jonathan in the flesh, is real. This is something she can depend on.