Chapter 30
I rush out of Plant Daddy so I can make it to work in time. As I’m waiting for the train I text Paul to confirm my little counterattack on my mother. Instead of nagging him about the plans I text, Let me meet you at the airport. Send me your itinerary so I can hire a car. I look at the text before I send it. Hiring a car for him feels so adult. I know it’s not filing my taxes early or getting a mortgage but it’s something. I hit send and wait for him to respond. I see the three dots of hope and then they disappear. I count back the hours to make sure he’s awake in California. He should be heading to work by now. The three bubbles reappear and then disappear again.
The train arrives and I know once I’m inside there’s little chance of a signal squeaking through so I silence my phone and put it in my pocket. As soon as I get out of the train and above ground I pull it out again. A text from Paul. Yeah, about Thanksgiving. Let’s talk. Around tomorrow?
Tomorrow? There is no way I can wait until tomorrow to find out what he’s talking about. I see the time and realize I might be late for work but this is too important to my mental stability. Maybe he’s flying in early so we can spend more time together. I try to convince myself of that fantasy as I dial.
‘Sammy? Hello. I guess you got my text.’
‘I did. What’s going on?’ I ask. I know this feeling. I know how Paul delivers bad news. He delays and then he squirms out of whatever he promised. I can feel the sensation of disappointment entering my body as my throat tightens.
‘This isn’t a great time to talk but I wanted to tell you that I have concerns about Thanksgiving.’ I hate when he talks like an attorney instead of a human being.
‘I’m not worried about concerns. What I’m worried about is attendance. My mom is expecting me to bring someone and I want it to be you.’ I do not like the way my voice sounds. Almost pleading. ‘Are you coming or not?’ I ask more assertively. I wish I had been more this way when we first started seeing each other.
‘I want to. I really want to,’ he says and I know it’s a lie. I’m sure he does not want to go to Thanksgiving at my mother’s since he knows he’ll be judged and scrutinized. It’s not a matter of want. It’s a matter of need.
‘Paul, I’ll start it for you. “I want to go but… ” I know there’s a but coming.’ I’m being more confrontational than I usually am with him and it feels good. I will not let him get away with his old tricks.
‘They need me in Atlanta early. I can’t get out of it.’
I knew he was going there from here but going early messes everything up. ‘Atlanta? What the hell? It’s Thanksgiving. You were just in London.’ I really need him here. I can’t keep up this charade with my mother. It’s getting too uncomfortable and I want to just grow up already, have a boyfriend who lives in the same city and a job that contributes to a retirement account.
‘I know. I know,’ he says. His voice is soft and gentle. He’s trying to calm me down but it’s not working. I stop walking to work and find an empty doorway where I can focus on the conversation and hear him better. ‘It sucks but the client is in Atlanta and they don’t want to travel during the holiday so we have to go to them. That’s how it works. You’ll understand better when you’re full-time at Brands. We cater to the client. That’s part of the job.’
He blames everything on his job. I swear he only works in order to have an excuse. I guess I’m being childish but this is important to me. A rumble of thunder causes me to look up to see the clouds turning grey.
‘Sammy, the trial is coming up and you know I’m only doing this for you. But I’ve got your cousin’s wedding on my calendar in bold. I will be there. I’ve been looking forward to walking into the reception at The Plaza with you on my arm. We can go back to our apartment after the wedding. The decorators won’t be done but I’ll make it special. I’ll light candles and get that special chocolate chip gelato you like.’ He’s really laying on the charm and I have to take a second to see if it’s working like it used to.
I look across the street and take in the depth of the urban landscape. Directly in front of me, commuters rush past in both directions, and behind them, the traffic starts and stops at the light. Behind that, another sidewalk of pedestrians, and past that, I can see into the window of the bookstore where customers are browsing. So many lives passing in different directions barely intersecting. I thought Paul and I were finally in the same place, a crossroads where we could both meet. But this conversation doesn’t feel like a new place, it feels like the old place. Maybe all he has really done is redecorate. I am so irritated with him right now and the fact that I’ll need to find a new victim to endure Thanksgiving at my mom’s only compounds the feeling. Apparently his old charm isn’t working.
‘Sammy, are you there?’
‘I have to go, Paul. Goodbye.’ I hang up. I’m furious and hurt and I don’t like where this is going but I’ve put too much time and effort into it. Is it too late to change direction? I walk out from the protection of the doorway and into the torrential downpour which only takes a few seconds to soak me to the bone.