Chapter 14 What the Future Holds
WHAT THE FUTURE HOLDS
“I’m not saying I agree with the guy. I’m just saying that this will not be a fair trial. The days of fair trials in the US stopped when social media became the place most people get their news,” Chad said. At least I thought that was his name. Ian didn’t introduce us. He was the lawyer, I thought.
“He said deplorable things about women and minorities. Not to mention he wanted to bring prayer back to school, and don’t get me started on the lack of gun reform,” the woman whose house we were at said as she set a large wooden salad bowl on the table. I thought her name was Kim.
“I agree, but everything he said was within his legal rights. You can say anything you want. Well, within reason. I don’t think we want a lesson on freedom of speech here at the dinner table. But trust me when I say those things don’t equal what he’s being accused of.” Chad shrugged.
“Always playing the lawyer,” Ian said, shaking his head. “This is why finance makes such better dinner conversation.”
“Says the CPA,” Derek, who was married to Kim, said as he passed the plate of chicken or fish or whatever we were eating this time.
I’d pretty much checked out of this dinner.
I had nothing to add to the discussion. The night started with a debate on the financial effects the recent fires would have on our economy and ended with an analysis on kids’ college savings.
I struggled to keep everyone’s names straight, let alone what number of the tax code we were on.
Ian went to college with all these people.
They had a history. One Ian hadn’t invited me into.
“What do you think, Evan?” Andrew asked. I knew Andrew’s name because he introduced himself. “Is our former leader a textbook narcissist or something far more sinister?”
“Oh.” I rubbed my nose. Someone’s perfume or cologne was giving me a headache. “That’s not really my field.” It would be like me asking Ian to do my taxes. He could do them, but personal taxes were not his field of expertise.
“Really?” Kim said. “I thought you went to college for that sort of thing. To the U, right?” she asked as she dished up the salad.
“Yes. The U. For psychology. But we normally specialize in certain areas, and right now I work with families, mostly teens, and their parents are more worried about suicide and drugs. Not if their child will be president,” I tried to joke.
“So you’re a doctor?” Chad asked. “Wow, Ian, that’s impressive.”
“No. I’m a therapist. A psychiatrist is the one who can write out prescriptions.
” I had been seeing Ian for a few months, and these were his closest friends.
I would have thought at some point someone would have asked what I did.
Zoey and Callie both wanted to know what Ian did for a living, where he grew up, who his parents were, and if he had siblings.
“How fun.” Kim smiled over her plate of white meat. It was fish.
Fun? Yes, that was exactly how I would describe talking to seventeen-year-olds who thought death was better than life.
“Fun” was like the word “sorry.” Something you said when you had nothing else to say.
“Yes. Fun.” I took a sip of wine. The conversation circled back to fires and people they knew from college.
I felt like I was in high school again, trying to prove I was good enough to be sitting at this table.
A table I wasn’t sure I was meant to sit at.
“May I use your restroom?” I asked, pushing away from the IKEA table.
“Oh, yes. Down the hall, second door on the left.” Kim smiled.
In the bathroom I checked my reflection.
Maybe Callie and Zoey were right. Ian and I didn’t really have that much in common.
This dinner made that glaringly obvious.
And he was a little boring. At least the tax code he talked about was.
Stop it. I pressed my fingers to my temples.
This is what you wanted. You wanted someone who was safe.
Who had a 401(k). Who had friends that threw dinner parties with unknown meat.
“This is what you wanted,” I whispered to my reflection.
Right. What I wanted. I also wanted to mean enough to my boyfriend that he told his friends about me. That was what normal people did in committed relationships, right? Maybe that was the issue, neither Ian nor I were committed to this relationship.
I don’t think either of us believed we’d still be together. We were from two very different worlds. Shit Callie and Zoey were right. No everything is fine. Stop this. My mind swung back and forth between understanding this was my adult future and dreading that this was my adult future.
I messaged Callie the code: RED. I needed some time to think about this before I did something I would regret. I stayed for what I thought was an appropriate amount of time. Looked in the medicine cabinet. Nothing exciting. Then I flushed the toilet and washed my hands.
Back at the table, they were all reliving some college party. Everyone had gone to Concordia. Everyone but me. I watched the clock tick away my life, wondering when the hell Callie would call. Then my cell rang.
Ian frowned at me.
“Sorry.” I stepped away from the table.
“So do you need, like, a life-and-death or just a mental breakdown?” Callie asked.
“What took you so long?” I hissed into the phone, trying to find the room I put my coat in.
“Zoey called. She didn’t drive, so I had to go pick her up. So what is it?”
“A mental breakdown will be fine.”
“Oh god, Ev, please come home. I can’t do this anymore. I’m turning thirty, and I don’t have the love of a man and my womb lies empty. And my best friend is addicted to tea that makes her shit herself.”
I tried not to laugh. What kind of friend would I be if I didn’t go home and help her cope with her empty womb?
I found my jacket. “I’ll be right there.
Don’t do anything stupid,” I said, walking out into the dining room.
They had a dining room. Zoey and I had a hand-me-down table and mismatched chairs. These people weren’t my people.
“Everything okay?” Ian asked.
“Sorry, that was Callie. Something happened. I have to go.”
“Really?” Ian stood and looked at his friends. “Please excuse us.”
I slipped on my jacket. “Thank you so much for dinner. You have a beautiful house. Let’s do this again.” That was something you said when you had nothing else to say. Ian followed me out.
“Evan, I know what you’re doing.” Ian tucked his hands under his arms. The late October air felt crisp.
“I’m not doing anything. Callie’s having a rough time. Thirty is a big number for women.” I shrugged. Ian wasn’t stupid. I’d been Callie’s call two weeks ago.
“If you didn’t want to come, you should have said so.” He turned to leave. “Say hi to Callie for me.”
“Ian, why didn’t you tell your friends what I do for a living?” This could be his out. He could say because I didn’t think this relationship would last. And I would agree, and that would be it. A nice, clean breakup.
He shrugged. “It never came up.”
“Me or it?”
“Is there a difference?” he asked.
“I guess not. I’ll talk to you later.” I walked to my car, realizing it never came up because it wasn’t important to him.
* * *
“We should just marry each other,” Callie said, handing me a glass of wine before flopping down on the couch.
“I think that’s illegal in Minnesota,” I said.
“Being lesbian? No, that’s the Florida,” Callie teased.
“No, plural marriage,” I said.
“I’m in. I could use a sister wife.” Zoey leaned back on the couch, closing her eyes. “That would give my parents a real reason to disown me.”
“What happened?” I asked, picking at the cheese and grapes. I realized I hadn’t really eaten anything at the dinner party.
“My father was pissed because I didn’t apply for the job he sent me.” Zoey lifted her head. “It was for legal counsel for Gucci. In Paris.”
“So you don’t need a legal degree in France?” Callie asked, resting her head on my shoulder.
“Oh no, he also sent me the application for three top law schools. Harvard being his first choice. But Yale would be acceptable. He was off tonight, more than normal. He accused my brother of being lazy because he didn’t get the cardiac fellowship at Stanford.
My brother didn’t apply because he’s not a heart surgeon. ”
“Sorry, Zoey.” I smiled sadly at her.
“It is what it is. What about you? What did the very boring Ian do?” Zoey asked.
“See?” Callie lifted her head.
I rested my head on the back of the couch, looking at the ceiling.
I got that apartment with soft-painted walls and sometimes played board games with friends.
I didn’t get blueberry pancakes in bed with a green-eyed boy.
Instead, I had brunch at a hip place that served bottomless mimosas.
“First off, he’s not boring. He’s Ian.” I took a deep breath and let it out.
“Second, I think you’re right about us. I don’t think he thought we’d make it this long.
Why else wouldn’t he tell his friends anything about me? ”
“Because you’re not his one. It’s time to move on, Ev,” Callie said. “And do it before it’s too late and you start wearing matching khakis and blue button-up shirts, picking out a Husqvarna table from IKEA.”
“I think that’s a lawn mower.” I looked over at her.
“Same thing,” Callie teased.
“I think I’ll swear off men.” I took a sip of wine. It wasn’t like I needed a man in my life. But sometimes I wanted to lie on the floor and listen to another’s heartbeat.
“Me too,” Zoey said. “And family.”
“And parrots,” Callie added.
“What?”
“I got bit by a parrot when I was six. Left me permanently scarred. See?” She pointed to a small crescent scar on her thumb. “Do you think our soulmates are still out there?”
I watched the shadows dance on the ceiling. “I think we’re too old for soulmates.” Soulmates were for silly girls who thought a test in a magazine would solve all their problems.