Chapter 30 MJ
MJ
The office is a ghost town Tuesday afternoon, despite the fact that I told Ron I’m swamped, which is the reason I gave when declining every invitation he’s made since Thursday.
After finishing my Christmas shopping, I found myself here.
My laptop is open, but it’s been so long since I’ve touched it that the screen has gone black.
The quiet is occasionally punctuated by the sound of a ringing phone or someone venturing to the break room for a cup of coffee.
The normally bustling space more closely resembles a library with most of the staff getting an early start on their holiday break.
We’re technically closed the week of December, so anyone who’s in the office now is here because they want to be.
Perhaps there’s also something or someone they’re avoiding.
The truth is, this is a slow time of the year for us. People are busy decking the halls and spending time with those they love.
Love.
The word hangs from the center of my mind, dangling like a new air freshener from the rearview mirror, permeating the space around me. I can’t escape it, no matter how hard I try.
“What are you doing here?”
The sudden presence of my daughter-in-law in the doorway of my office makes me jump and let out a high-pitched yelp.
“It’s Christmas Eve Eve,” she continues. “I’m surprised you’re not already baking up a storm.”
“Oh my God, Ellie,” I say with a chuckle, holding my hands to my chest. “You scared me half to death.”
She sits across from me and unwinds the plaid scarf from her neck. “Sorry. I didn’t mean to startle you. I was out running errands and saw your car here, so I thought I’d stop by.”
“Taking care of some last-minute Christmas shopping?” I ask.
“Yeah. I had to pick up stocking stuffers for the kids,” she answers. “And I got some snacks for tonight.”
“Lucy told me earlier that y’all are having a girls night to try to cheer Lindsey up. That’s sweet of you. I know she’ll appreciate it.”
Ellie gives me a sad smile. “I was sorry to hear she stopped seeing Oliver.”
“Me too.”
“He seems like such a great guy, and it’s obvious they care about each other,” she says. “From what Lucy told me, Lindsey’s pretty torn up.”
“She is,” I admit. “What happened the other night really rattled her.”
“I can only imagine, but…” She trails off, closing her mouth before opening it again.
“What?” I ask. “What were you going to say?”
Ellie presses her lips together, a contemplative expression on her face.
“I understand if she’s not quite ready to take the leap into a relationship.
That’s completely valid.” She pauses, shifting in her seat.
“But if she keeps running away from love, eventually there won’t be anywhere left for her to go.
There’s not a type of love in the world that doesn’t come with a risk. ”
She didn’t intend those words for me, but they cling to me like shrink-wrap. If I choose to walk away from Ron or even the possibility of love, where does it end?
I’ve been running since I lost Henry, only I haven’t been running away so much as I’ve been running in circles.
Somehow, I thought if I put everyone I love in a time capsule, I could keep them safe, and I could also keep Henry alive in some way.
It’s why I’ve held on to every moment of the past so tightly.
I fold my hands on my desk and sigh. “You know what, Ellie? You’re absolutely right.”
“Anyway, you never said why you’re at the office” —she raises an accusing brow at me— “three days before Christmas. I know you’re in demand, but we’re not that busy this time of year.”
“You’re right,” I say, holding my hands up in surrender.
“How about you pack up and get coffee with me before you head home?” she asks.
I snap my laptop shut. “On one condition.”
“What’s that?” she asks.
“I’m buying.”
“You know, you’re supposed to be helping,” I say to Rose as she gingerly grabs another of the snowflake-shaped cookies I’ve been icing and takes a bite. After I got home, I was feeling antsy, so I asked if she wanted to come over to wrap presents and do some baking.
“I am helping,” she insists around a mouthful of cookie. “I’m quality control.”
I chuckle and roll my eyes. “Right.”
My phone pings from the counter, but I ignore it.
“We both know you don’t actually want my help, anyway,” she says, refilling both of our wine glasses. “If memory serves, the last time you allowed me to actually bake something was when you got the flu and were supposed to be baking cupcakes for Lindsey’s thirteenth birthday.”
“And can you blame me? They looked like little boobs.”
Lindsey’s favorite color was pink, and she wanted that on top of the vanilla frosting. Did Rose really have to put the little Hot Tamales in the center, though? To be fair, they are Lindsey’s favorite candy.
“You said that was Lindsey’s favorite birthday,” Rose said.
“It’s true,” I admit, handing her a freshly-frosted cookie. “The kids thought it was hilarious and that she had the coolest aunt ever.”
My phone chimes again.
“Well, she does.” She chomps into the snowflake and leans her elbows on the counter, glancing over at my phone. “So, how’s Ron?”
I fix my eyes on the next batch of icing I’m mixing. “We haven’t really talked much since Oliver went to the hospital last week.”
The heat of her gaze is burning holes into my skull.
“Uh-huh. And why’s that?” she asks.
“I haven’t had time.”
She snorts. “You have nothing but time.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Have not.”
“Have so. I’ve been at the office a lot.”
“Doing what?” she asks.
“Things,” I snip.
“What kinds of things?”
I toss the spatula I’m holding into the mixing bowl with a clatter. “Avoiding Ron things, okay?”
She wags a finger at me. “I knew it. I was worried this might happen.”
“Worried what might happen?” I huff.
“That being at that hospital would bring back some difficult memories and you’d freak out and overanalyze everything.”
I open my mouth to speak but she cuts me off.
“I’m not saying you don’t have every right to freak out, because you do. Though, you could stand to chill on the overanalyzing part,” she says.
“It’s not just that, Rose. He wants me to meet his son.”
She throws up her hands. “So? He’s met your kids. He’s met me.”
“That’s different.”
“How?”
“I don’t know. It just is.” I press my fingertips to my temples. “That feels like a big commitment, doesn’t it? I don’t know if I’m ready for that.”
“For Heaven's sake, Myra Jean. We’re not twenty-five anymore. We’re too old to not communicate with the people we care about. You need to tell him what’s on your mind. He deserves to know where your head’s at.”
“I know.” I run my tongue over my teeth, my mouth suddenly dry. “I’ve been trying to figure out how to tell him what I’m feeling.”
Her tone softens. “Which is?”
“That I don’t know what I want. I’m scared.” I blow out a steady stream of air. “God, Rose. Let’s say I do get together with Ron or anyone else and we commit to each other. What happens if history repeats itself? I wouldn’t survive another loss like that.”
“Of course, you would.”
I scoff at her. “That’s a callous thing to say.”
“No. It isn’t.” She presses her palms flat on the counter. “It’s the truth. You thought you wouldn’t survive losing Henry, yet here you are. You made it because you had to. Because that’s what people do.”
“I haven’t exactly been thriving.”
“Maybe not at first,” she says. “But now? I think you’re doing pretty damn good.” She holds out a hand to stop the rebuttal I’m ready to launch at her. “And that’s okay. That’s a good thing. It means you’re healing.”
I grab the cup towel beside the sink and wipe my hands. “Maybe I don’t want to be healed.”
“Sure, you do.” She reaches across the counter to touch my arm. “Why would you say that?”
I blink back the tears burning at the corners of my eyes. “If I’m all healed and better, what does that mean for Henry?”
“Uh.” She juts her chin forward and scrunches her brow. “Nothing, I suppose. It’s not like he can really be a part of it.”
“Exactly. If I move on, Henry is really gone.”
“He’s gone either way, sister.”
“I know,” I snap. “Don’t you think I know that? I meant, if I were to move on with someone else, that becomes my life, and Henry just disappears into the ether.”
“That’s not how it works.”
“Oh really,” I bite back, sarcasm dripping from my voice. “Enlighten me, then. How does it work?”
“You don’t keep someone’s memory alive by shutting down and folding in on yourself, Myra Jean.” She reaches for my hand. “You keep them alive by living. By living so loud that wherever Henry is, he can hear you.”
I rub my fingers over my forehead, attempting to smooth out the dozens of wrinkles I’m certain have formed in the duration of this conversation.
“What do I say, Rose?” I ask. “What do I tell him?”
“Tell him what you told me,” she says. “That you’re scared and you’re not sure what you want this thing between you two to be just yet. Be honest with him.”
I rake my teeth over my bottom lip and nod slowly. “Okay. You’re right. I’ll do it.”
She narrows her eyes at me. “When?”
“The next time he calls.”
She taps a manicured nail to her chin. “Fine, then. Since I’m already on your nerves, you should know I got you a spa package for Christmas.”
“Why would that get on my nerves? That’s a lovely gift. Thank yo—”
“Well, actually, I got a spa package,” she says. “From Lester. It’s got a massage, a pedicure, something called a vampire facial, and a bikini wax, so I thought I’d give you the wax.”
I roll my eyes. “How thoughtful.”
“A little maintenance never hurt anyone. When was the last time you got checked out under the hood?”
“It’s not gonna happen, Rose. Not now. Not ever.”
“What if I throw in the vampire facial? I heard they use your own blood.”
I pop my lips together and grab my phone. “You know what? Maybe I’ll go call Ron now.”
“Yeah.” Rose flashes me a Cheshire cat grin, pawing at another cookie. “You do that.”
I pad up the stairs to my bedroom and shut the door, dialing Ron’s number.
“Myra Jean.” His voice is chipper when he answers the phone. “How’s the design emergency? Did you finally come up for air?”
“You scare me,” I blurt out.
Oh my God. What am I doing? I couldn’t even say Hi first or How are you? I slap my palm to my forehead and flop onto my bed. If I have to die from embarrassment, I at least want to go out comfortably.
I curse Rose under my breath. This is all her fault.
“Excuse me?” Ron asks, taken aback.
“That’s not what I meant,” I say. “I mean, it is, but it isn’t.”
“Okay,” he says, drawing out the word. “I’m going to need some clarity on what you do mean.”
“Yes. Right.” I draw in a long, slow breath. “Ron, there was no work emergency. I’ve been…I was avoiding you.”
“I had a feeling,” he admits.
“Oh…”
He heaves a sigh. “I don’t know a lot about design, but it seemed unlikely there would be an emergency this close to Christmas.
You were a little off when I mentioned introducing you to Hudson, and after the way you sounded on the phone the night of Oliver’s accident, I got the impression you might be having second thoughts. ”
“It isn’t that. Well, I guess it is, but not because of you. It’s because of everything.”
He chuckles softly. “Is that supposed to make me feel better?”
I run my hand down my face. “I’m really messing this up, aren’t I?”
“You’re not messing up anything, Myra Jean. Tell me what’s on your mind.”
I can do this.
If that’s true, why do I feel like I’m going to be sick?
“Okay.” My heart performs an erratic tap dance against my chest while my stomach contorts itself into a pretzel.
“Ron, I like you. A lot. And that’s terrifying to me because I thought Henry and I would be riding our electric scooters around the grocery store together when we were ninety, lamenting about the price of eggs.
I never considered the possibility of anything different.
I wasn’t supposed to have this much of a future left without him in it. ”
“I get that, Myra Jean. I do,” he says, “and no matter where this thing between us goes, I’d never expect to replace Henry. Nor would I want to.”
“I know,” I assure him. “The thing you have to understand is that I spent the last five years trying to keep him alive. That was my life until you came along and showed me there might be other ways to live. But I’m still wrapping my mind around what that looks like and what I want it to look like.
What happened with Oliver the other night scared Lindsey, but it also shook me up.
It reminded me how quickly things can change, and if I’m going to be brave enough to let someone in my life, I’ve got to make sure I’m brave enough to lose them too. ”
A beat of silence passes between us.
“How can I help you not be scared?” he asks. “What do you need from me?”
“Time,” I say. “I just need a moment to catch my breath.”
He pauses so long, I have to look to make sure the call didn’t disconnect.
“Okay,” he says.
“Really?”
“Yes, really. I’d be lying if I said I’m not disappointed, but I don’t want you to do anything you don’t want to do.”
A lump forms in my throat. “Right.”
“Take all the time you need,” he continues. “When you’re ready to talk, you know where to find me.”
“Wow,” I say with a nervous laugh. “So, it’s just that simple?”
“Nothing about you is simple,” he says, and I detect a trace of sadness in his voice. “And if you ask me, that’s one of your best qualities.”
“Thank you.” I hold the phone closer, as though somehow that would bring him closer.
“Good night, Myra Jean. And if I don’t talk to you before then, Merry Christmas.”
I swallow hard. “Merry Christmas.”