Chapter 23 Jimmy
Jimmy
Ihear Becca come in the door, but neither Rex nor I move from our spot.
He looks up at me, knowing the minute she sees him on the couch, she’ll shoo him away.
I pat him on the head, reassuring him that I’m cool with his company, and he lays back down on my leg.
There’s rustling in the kitchen, and I wait for her to say hello, but she doesn’t right away.
When she does make it into the living room, she does exactly what we expected her to.
“Rex! No. Get down. Jimmy, why do you let him up there?”
“Well, hello to you, too.”
“I don’t want our furniture to smell like dog Jimmy.” She brushes off the couch and fluffs the throw pillows aggressively before putting them back in their assigned seat.
“Honey, he lives here. If he were going to make it smell like anything, he would have already.”
“Shampooing a rug is much different than thoroughly cleaning the suede material of a couch.” She looks at me like I should already know that.
“Whatever you say,” I tell her, knowing I’m going to let him do it again the very next time she’s gone.
She wanders back into the kitchen, and my phone buzzes.
One day. That's all I want.
A text from Autumn talking about a house with a wraparound porch to sit on. One with a big yard to enjoy and near the lake, so she can go whenever she wants. She said a house on the lake would be too expensive, but five to ten minutes away? Perfect. And I love that about her.
Me too. Rex would love a bigger yard. And he loves going to the beach too.
He does love the beach, but I’ve only been able to take him there three times in his three years of life. I’m sure you can guess why. He was a mess of sand and wet dog fur when we got home, and that was an argument I stopped having.
I bet he does. I wish I could go.
We will one day.
God, I hope that’s true.
“Are you staying home for dinner tonight?” Becca calls out.
“Why wouldn’t I?” I respond.
“You’ve barely been home lately, so I didn’t know.”
I roll my eyes. “I’m home every day.”
I get up from the couch and go into the kitchen.
She’s moving around quickly, almost frantically, and her cheeks are pink.
She doesn’t acknowledge my presence in the room, just continues to pace around me, looking disheveled.
She’s pulling out ingredients for spaghetti, which is the meal she makes when she’s had a long day or doesn’t feel like cooking.
It takes no thought and twenty minutes to get done, she’s said before.
“You okay?” I ask.
“I’m fine,” she snaps.
I take her response as a cue to back off and head for the bedroom. She’s clearly not fine, but she doesn’t want me to know. She may not even know, so I don’t say anything else.
I text Autumn again.
I miss you.
I miss you too.
She sends back right away. So just as quick, I respond.
I miss your voice. I wish it was tomorrow.
My phone vibrates again, five seconds later.
So you don't miss my voice too?
I text back, poking at her. Messing with her is fun because she messes right back. She doesn’t get angry.
I miss more than your voice ;)
Winky face.
“Hey,” Becca’s voice makes me jump. She squints her eyes at me, given my reaction. “What was that about?”
“Nothing. You just caught me off guard. I was reading an email from the architect.”
“Oh,” she says, standing against the door frame, arms folded in front of her, staring at me, then at my phone. “Well, since you’re on your phone so often anyway, you should call your mom sometime. She misses you.”
“That’s a good idea,” I say, ignoring whatever she is insinuating.
She gives me one last look before walking away. “Dinner’s almost done,” she calls out as she walks down the hallway.
Any response I have to Autumn’s text will lead me somewhere I’m not prepared to go with Becca popping in on me. So, I exit out of our messages and call my mom.
“Well, I’ll be,” she says when she answers.
“Hi, Mom.” I laugh.
“She came right home and told you to call me, huh?”
“Of course not.” I fib. “I just missed you.”
“Yeah, Yeah. I miss you too. How are you? Becca said you’re working a lot again.”
“Yeah, I am. But I’m good, though. How are you doing? I heard things are looking positive. Are you feeling positive?”
She laughs. “Yes, everything is fine, but I don’t want to talk about me. I want to hear about you.”
My mom. Stubborn as ever. She never wants to be the center of attention, no matter what significant life event she’s going through. Her quick persistence this time seems strange, though, like she’s looking for specific information without asking the actual question.
“There’s not much to hear, ma. She’s right. I’ve been working a lot, covering a few different things at the moment.”
She sighs. “I wish you wouldn’t do that. You need some fun in your life, don’t you think? All you guys have ever done is worked.”
“I do have fun. It’s just not the same type of fun you’re thinking of.”
“Yours and Becca’s type of fun is not the same type of fun as anyone thinks, hun.” She pauses. “Anyways, guess who I ran into the other day?”
“Who’s that?” I ask as I move towards the dresser to finally change out of my work clothes.
“Andrea”
Autumn’s mom.
“That so?” I respond, unsure of where she’s going with this.
“And you know what she told me?”
I laugh at her needing to ask these additional questions to get to the point, per usual.
“What’s that, ma?”
“Autumn’s moved back home.”
I smile. “I know.”
“You know?” I can hear in her response that she’s smiling too.
“Yes, we ran into her a little while ago. I think it was her first day back, actually.”
“You and Becca did?”
“Yeah, we were at the diner over on Main Street. She was eating lunch with her friend, and we were picking up food.”
“How is she?” she asks with a new pep in her voice. “Andrea said she’s done well for herself, too.”
“She is good. We didn’t talk long, but it was nice to see her.”
If only I could tell her the whole truth. Judging by the tone in her voice now, she might not even be shocked, but this is all she needs to know at the moment.
“Oh, that’s lovely. I’m so happy you guys reunited. Will you see her again? Please tell her I said hi.”
I laugh and continue to lie. “I don’t know, but if I do, I will tell her.”
“Good. She was just the sweetest girl, wasn’t she?”
“Yeah, ma, she was.”
I think I’ve figured out her actual reason for wanting to chat, but I feel like it’s time to get out of this conversation at least while I’m home with Becca.
“I think dinner might be done soon, so I’m going to get ready to eat. I’ll call you in a few days?”
“I’d love that.” She says. “But I’d also love to hear more from you next time than just working so damn much.”
I laugh. “Okay. Mom. Love you.”
“Love you too, dear.”
There is so much besides work that I could tell her. Stuff I’d actually like to tell her all about, and maybe, one day, I will.
But right now, whatever I want to tell her, and more importantly, whatever my mom is up to, will have to wait because my wife is summoning me for dinner.