Chapter 15
CHAPTER FIFTEEN
Jenna
I get the tree home—Aaron helped me strap it to my car—and set it up in my living room, strung with the white lights I bought at his farm.
It takes me a bit to locate my box of ornaments, but I eventually dig them out and hang them on my tree.
It’s certainly not as robust of a decorating job as the trees at ChristmasFest, but it’s a start. My apartment already feels more homey.
Digging out the ornaments gives me a boost to unpack more, and I get through several more boxes, find some artwork that I should hang up, and then prowl my apartment, visualizing where I want to hang things.
I’m not sure why I’ve resisted settling in as much as I have.
I guess some part of me felt like this might just be temporary.
But even if it is temporary—it’s an apartment, after all.
I’ll surely move at some point—why shouldn’t I feel at home while I’m here?
Living surrounded by boxes isn’t good for my mental health.
I might not get rid of all the boxes tonight—I don’t have that much energy, and I want to rest at least some on my day off—but if I make it a point to do a little every week, I should be able to get rid of the last of them by Christmas.
That will be my Christmas present to me—a fully moved in and decorated apartment.
Once I finish, I make myself a cup of hot cocoa in the new mug I bought myself—my tangible Christmas gift to me—turn off most of my lights, and bask in the glow of my little tree.
I’ll need to hit up The Christmas Emporium to finish off the place—I need a stocking and some more ornaments and a few other things.
I bought a wreath from Aaron’s farm—well, he almost gave me the wreath.
I insisted on paying, though, and his mom took over, happily accepting my credit card and running it while Aaron spluttered half-formed protests.
It’s the perfect touch for outside, though—greenery with adorable tiny pinecones that Aaron told me are from alder trees and a dark red velvet ribbon trimmed in gold threaded throughout and tied in a big bow at the bottom. I love it.
Since I don’t have a tree topper, I might see if I can find more of that ribbon and put a bow on top of my tree with long ribbons trailing down.
I think that would look nice. I’ll probably stock up on generic balls and teardrops, but I think the handful of keepsake ornaments will accent the tree nicely with those.
Letting out a sigh of contentment, I sip my cocoa and pick up my phone. Snapping a pic, I text it to Aaron.
Got started on my Christmas decorating. Still need a few other things, but I’ll grab those later this week. So far, I’m really happy
I know he has his son tonight, so I don’t expect a text back right away.
But since I’m on a roll with doing things to make myself feel better—unpacking, decorating, relaxing—I text my friend Amanda back in Salem.
We haven’t talked much since I moved here—I’ve been busy since day one, pretty much—and I feel like I should do something to change that.
While I’ve made a few friends here, they’re go-out-for-a-drink-on-Thursday-night friends, not text-to-chat friends. At least I haven’t made that jump with any of them. And during ChristmasFest seems like the wrong time to try. Everyone’s so busy …
Hey! Just wanted to check in since we haven’t talked in a while. Hope things are going well in Salem! Lmk if you’re planning on coming home for Christmas. I’d love to meet up if you’re in town
I barely have to wait for a response from Amanda, but instead of texting, she calls. “Jenna!” she yells as soon as I pick up. “How’s Arcadian Falls treating you?”
I let out a soft chuckle.
“Oof,” she says. “That bad?”
“No, not really. It’s good, mostly. But ChristmasFest is a big deal here—”
“Ha. No kidding.”
“And people get reeeeeaaallly upset if you try to change anything at all. Even though there’s documentation of small changes every single year, things done to improve upon the year before.
Even the bows, Amanda! The bows! They’re a few shades darker, and you’d think I’d stolen all the firstborns in the whole town and tossed them in the river. ”
Amanda lets out a rueful chuckle. “I’m pretty sure I warned you that it’s a place that’s very mired in tradition when I told you about the job.”
Sighing, I set down my now empty mug and stretch out on the couch.
“You did. I remember because I thought you were making a bigger deal out of it than it really is. When I came for the interview, they seemed open to my ideas and thought I’d be an asset to the event and a good replacement for Cynthia, the lady who’s been doing it for a million years. ”
“Oh, I know Cynthia. She was my first boyfriend’s grandma.”
Chuckling, I shake my head. “Of course she was.”
“I know, right?” I can hear Amanda’s answering grin through the phone. “Everyone’s somehow connected to everyone in Arcadian Falls. But I’ll remind you that you wanted to go to the middle of nowhere so that you wouldn’t have to deal with men after your atrocious breakup.”
I groan. “Don’t remind me. Somehow that doesn’t seem to be working out as planned either.”
“Oh?” Her interest is immediately piqued. “Do tell.”
“Do you know Aaron Farrell?”
She laughs, hard. “Of course I do. Didn’t I just tell you that everyone is connected to everyone there?”
“Let me guess. He’s your first cousin’s grandma’s son? Or your great-uncle’s brother’s grandson. Or …” I plop a hand on my face. “Wait. Did you date him?”
She’s cackling now. “No. I didn’t date Aaron.”
The way she says that sounds like someone close to her did. “Then who did?”
“My older sister went out with him a few times. I think they went to homecoming together? Or maybe it was prom. It’s kind of a blur, especially since I was too young to go to those things at that point.
He’s a few years older than we are, hence my sister dating him.
He would’ve been too old for me when we were all kids. ” She laughs on the last part.
“Oh. I guess … I don’t actually know how old he is.”
“Well … hang on. Let me think. Stacey’s three years older than me, and he was two grades ahead of her, I think.
So he’d be about five years older than us.
Which is fine when you’re in your late twenties and he’s in his early thirties.
Not so great when you’re in middle school and he’s about to graduate. ”
Laughing, I nod. “Good point.”
“So …” she nudges. “What happened?”
I drop my hand on my face again. “Not much, really. He was actually fairly antagonistic toward me until last week, to be honest.” I fill her in on our early interactions, then tell her about when I bumped into him at The Red Arrow on Thursday, our date Saturday, the kiss, and tree shopping today, which ended with him giving me another kiss goodbye after he loaded my tree on my car.
“He even offered to come home with me and help me get the tree set up.”
Amanda lets out a low whistle. “Sounds pretty serious.”
I laugh at that. “After one date and two kisses, you’re calling it serious? May I remind you that I lived with my last boyfriend for years?”
“Yeah, and look how that turned out. Did he ever do anything like that for you?”
Thinking back over my relationship with Ian, I have to admit the answer is, “No.” I’m grumbling, but I don’t care. “I mean, he’d help carry groceries in.”
“But only if he went with you to the grocery store.”
“Well, sure. Most of the time when I went without him, it was because he wasn’t home or …” I trail off, not wanting to finish that sentence.
“Or …?” Amanda prompts. “Finish what you were saying, please.”
She already knows the answer, but I do as she says anyway, not bothering to hold back my sigh. “Or he was busy.”
“And he was of the opinion that anything that he did was more important that anything you did. Even if the thing you were doing was making sure he had food to eat.”
I’m quiet, not knowing how to respond.
“Look,” she continues, “I know you said you didn’t want to date for a while, and I think it’s good to take time for yourself after ending a long relationship, even if that relationship’s been dead for years.”
“It wasn’t—” I start to protest.
“Wasn’t it? Jenna, the man applied for schools and started planning a move without even bothering to tell you, much less have a discussion about your relationship and moving forward.
He treated you like—actually, no. I was going to say he treated you like a roommate, but that implies more respect than he gave you.
He treated you like a live-in servant who was there to cater to his every whim.
He was shit, Jenna. He’d been shit for a long time.
I’m glad you finally realized it, but I hate that it took as long as it did. ”
All I can do is grunt in response. I don’t have any words to address any of what she’s saying because—did I realize he was actually a shitty boyfriend? I mean, obviously the way things ended was shitty. That was slap-me-in-the-face obvious. But before that?
I’m not sure I actually put that together until Amanda laid it out so concisely.
“I’m sorry, Jenna,” she says more gently. “I know it’s hard to hear it, but I need you to know that you deserve better than that. Your sole value isn’t that you’re good at organizing things and making sure everything gets done that needs to get done regardless of the cost to you.”
That … that has me choking up. I sniff. Then let out a watery laugh, needing to dispel the emotion, but not really succeeding.
“Oh, Jenna,” Amanda says. “You do know that, right?”
“I mean, I guess?” It doesn’t come out sounding at all confident.
“Ugh. I hate that you’re so far away right now. I mean, I’m glad you got the new start you obviously wanted, and I’m glad you’re letting yourself be open to new possibilities, I just want you to also make sure that you go into any potential new relationship with the correct expectations.”
“And what are those?” I wipe a rogue tear that escaped, drying my finger on my jeans.
Amanda makes a sound of distress. “That he treats you well. Not like a bang maid. Like a person, and like what you want matters. And all relationships start out that way—or at least I think they do. But sometimes that gets lost over time once everyone gets settled and used to the relationship. I just want you to keep a weather eye out for signs that he’s not as awesome as he seems at first. Anyone can hold a door open or help you tie a tree to your car once or twice at the beginning of a relationship. ”
I let out a watery laugh. “How many times does tying a tree to a car present itself in an average relationship?”
She laughs too. “I supposed that depends on the relationship. In yours—or what could be a relationship, at least, though the jury’s still out—it happened before your second date.
But just … don’t let him treat you like your value only lies in your organizational abilities while simultaneously belittling the same skills he relies on to function. ”
“He seems to be managing fine without me,” I blubber, the memory of the picture of Ian and his new girlfriend bubbling up.
“You saw the picture too?” she asks, her voice heavy with sympathy.
“Yeah,” I croak.
Amanda’s quiet a moment, then, “You do realize that he probably posted that mostly for your benefit, right?”
Another watery laugh comes out. “And how do you figure that?”
She scoffs. “He knows you still follow him. And he knows how much he hurt you. And even then, I thought he seemed to be taking some sort of sadistic pleasure in that fact. That man almost never posts on social media, but he made sure to post photos of him moving out of the apartment the two of you shared, the new place he moved into with his friend—who, not gonna lie, I wondered if he was more than a friend and he’d hidden that from you for the entirety of your relationship. ”
“Thanks for the vote of confidence, Amanda,” I say sarcastically. “I mean, I’ll agree that Ian wasn’t great in a lot of ways that I didn’t realize until I got some distance”—and you spelled it out for me—“but I think I would’ve noticed if he were cheating on me.”
She makes another sympathetic noise. “I know. I’m sure you would’ve too.
I’m sorry. I didn’t mean it like that. I just meant …
” Another sound, this one more frustrated.
“Just that he was slimy and underhanded enough to do something like that, is all. But he hasn’t posted anything since he moved, and now he has a girlfriend, so of course he just has to share that.
How else will you know what you’re missing out on? ”
I snort. “What exactly am I missing out on?”
“That’s my girl!” she crows. “Not a fucking thing. Well, I guess that’s not totally true. You’re missing out on having to be that twat weasel’s live-in mommy-girlfriend. And I think that’s a win.”
I’m quiet a beat. Then, “Do you think we should find her and warn her about him? I’m pretty sure he tagged her.”
Amanda cackles again. “Oh, that would be hilarious. Would it be better coming from you or from me?”
I giggle, thinking about it, starting to compose a message in my head.
But then I wrinkle my nose. “Is it worth it, though? If you were dating someone new who was probably going out of his way to be really great—how else is he going to hook someone new, after all?—would you believe an ex who messaged you out of the blue to tell you you’re dating a total prick? ”
“Eeehhhhh, I guess it depends on what they could back up their claims with.”
“Exactly. And in this case, it’s not like I have evidence of horrible abuse. He’s just a shitty guy who thinks he’s better than everyone else. She’ll have to learn that on her own.”
“Well, for her sake, let’s hope she figures it out sooner than later.”
“Agreed.”