1. Pickle #3
I reach the landing and pass the shoe room on my way to the library (aka the second bedroom), where I usually spend the brief hour that’s left of a day after work.
This is my little space, my slice of time carved out just for me.
A comfy reading chair, a glass of wine, and a book.
Or business planning, in tonight’s case.
My friends say I work too much. That there’s more to life, etcetera. But I’ve got something to fight for that makes it meaningful to me. It’ll be worth the sacrifice.
My company. My team.
I can do this without Henry—I know I can.
Without relying on anyone. Me, my skills, and a healthy dose of determination.
Just me.
I stare at the words on the tablet, trying to remember what I was meant to be doing.
Maybe I can call my friends now? I glance up at the clock on the wall; it’s nearly 10 p.m., which means it’s close to 5 p.m. in New York.
Jamie and Sophie will still be at work, or maybe on the train home.
They’ll soon be laughing and talking while cooking together, reading books on the couch after putting their kids to sleep.
Hm.
I grab my phone from the table; I’ll listen to their voice note again instead.
Sophie’s voice fills the library. “Hey, sorry we missed your call this weekend. We’re just back from a trip to the city.
We stayed at a hotel, took the kids to the zoo, and I can definitely not recommend that with a six- and three-year-old when it’s this hot.
And there were so many tourists. Bloody hell. ”
“Boring, Soph,” Jamie butts in, exaggerating her American accent, and I laugh just as I did the first time I listened to this. “What did you do this weekend? Not just work, right? Please tell us you called to brag about all the vitamin D you’re getting, and you know I don’t mean the sun.”
“Oh my god, Jamie,” Sophie breathes. “Stop it.”
“It’s been almost a year, Soph. Linnea, tell us there are new penises.”
“If you miss penises so much, why did you marry me?”
There’s giggling, and Jamie’s probably poking Sophie, tickling her for being sassy.
“Anyway, tell us how you are, tell us everything about your week,” Sophie says, huffing and laughing.
“Don’t leave out any details. I want to hear about veins and all!” Jamie squeals, then the voice note ends.
I stare at the rain trickling down the window. A large sip of Malbec helps rid me of the lump in my throat before I press the microphone button.
“Hey ladies, sounds like you had a fun weekend … or not. I can’t say you’re selling the idea of New York City in the summer, but I’m sure you actually had a great time.
How are the little ones? Tell me about Aubrey’s new school.
And send pictures from the zoo, please. I want to see the agony on your faces—proof of your terrible life.
Hah.” I take a sip of my wine. “Anyway, what did I do over the weekend? Umm, not much, just went to the gym. Did some work. I started that book you recommended, umm … Persuasion.”
When I say started, I mean I opened it and closed it again, not able to take my mind off work.
“Went for a drink today with the Lady I told you about. The residential client. Yeah, yeah, I’m all work and no play, but that’s just how it is for a while.
But she declined, so that sucks, but hey ho.
Oh, Aiden gave me another job, so that’s good.
Meeting him tomorrow. Should be funnnn… No, really, I didn’t mean for that to sound sarcastic.
I love the jobs I’ve done for him. I’m sure it’ll be good.
Another nightclub or something. Anyway, one thing going in the right direction I guess, and I’ll get more leads and it’ll all be fantastic.
Really, really … good.” I pause. I’ve never told them what happened on Halloween.
It’s too embarrassing to relive it, so I won’t go into how much I dread being alone with him at the site tomorrow.
“Okay, we’ll talk at the weekend, byyyeee. ”
It’s not intentional, stretching the truth about how things are and what I do for fun.
I just don’t want them to be concerned or to start asking their wealthy families to be my clients to help me out, as they did when I first kicked off my career.
They would mean well, but it’d make me more than uncomfortable to have to deal with sympathy clients who might not appreciate my style.
Jamie and Sophie have been worried about me since the separation, or even for years before that. At some point, I had to stop sharing everything with them. They have their own shit to deal with.
The book I claim to be reading lies unopened on the table, and I’ve got my tablet on my lap instead. But my mind is numb, and I let my eyes drift out of focus. The rain on the window is the only sound I hear.
My phone vibrates wildly under my butt, waking me up.
Wait, I fell asleep?
What the fuck is happening?
I scramble out of the chair, and the buzzing phone lands on the carpet. “Fuck,” I mutter as I pick it up and squint at the bright screen.
Why is Aiden calling me in the middle of the night?
Tentatively, I answer, putting the phone to my ear.
“Hello?”
“Hey, did you forget you were meant to be here at 7 a.m.?”
Shit!
I overslept to meet my only client!