Chapter 49 Long Distance
Monday
“Rome Overland—it’s giving sci-fi character.”
His laugh rumbles on the other end of the line. “We can’t all have names as highbrow as Rose Thyme.”
I’m curled up on my bed in pajamas with a cup of tea on the bedside table. I giggle, snuggling into my blankets. “Excuse me, while simple and food-adjacent, Rose Thyme is both unique and sophisticated.”
“How’d your day go, gorgeous?”
I pfft over the line. “I don’t think I can handle you casually calling me gorgeous.”
“I’m your boyfriend, I’m not allowed to call you gorgeous?” I can hear the smile in his voice.
“It sounds like hyperbole. Like you’re being slick, just to get me into bed.”
He laughs again. “You’ve got to be kidding me, Rikki. Get the fuck over yourself. I’ve already gotten you into bed. Multiple times.”
“Never in your bed.”
“I hope to soon.”
I bite back my smile as that statement zings through me. A slight ache wanes across my chest. When will that be?
“What if I called you gorgeous?” I pose.
“I’d be flattered.”
“Well, you are.”
“Well, I’m fucking flattered, thank you. I’m blushing—see how easy that is?”
I roll my eyes, still smiling. “How was your day, Rome? Insane, I’m betting?”
“How was your day, Rose? I bet it was insane as well.”
“Why would my day be insane?”
“Because you’re a superstar that works a million jobs and kills them all every day.”
I snort. “My day’s been a lot, but it wasn’t anything special like yours. Tell me about your launch into society. This is amazing! I can’t believe you’re playing Vince in the Elizabeth Ross adaptation! Your dreams are coming true as we speak.”
He laughs. “It’s been a wild day, and I’m very grateful for the positive response we’ve all been getting.”
I beam at my ceiling, thinking of the conversation during our first date while he was helping me unlace the corset. I’m overjoyed, listening as he gives me a play-by-play of his day full of press interviews in a Four Seasons down in Beverly Hills.
Once his stories wrap, we devolve into random nonsense banter. Talking about our childhood screen names. Our favorite board games. Cartoons. Movies we used to rewatch a thousand times. Me: The Dark Knight Rises. Him: When Harry Met Sally.
He tells me he’ll be traveling to Europe on Wednesday for more show promotional interviews and videos overseas. They have him scheduled for two weeks of nonstop marketing gigs before he gets a four-day break.
I sigh as we hang up, already missing him more than I did before the phone call. His upcoming month of launch promo and all its subsequent travel is about to make this relationship even more complicated.
Tuesday
Reed [5:03 p.m.]: Hope the day went well, gorgeous. Mine was jam packed and now I’m in the car with Eliza and Matt on the way to the airport. We’re heading to France first and then London. Can I call you? =P
Me [5:05 p.m.]: Really, we’re sticking with gorgeous? That’s amazing! Travel safe! I’m cooking dinner so I’m not on a mattress either. We’ll talk next time we’re both feat. bed? =P Can’t wait to hear about all your adventures! Miss your 1860s face.
Reed [5:10 p.m.]: Missing that before-Christ complexion. The second my ass hits a mattress I’m FaceTiming you.
Wednesday
Me [6:33 p.m.]: thinking of you!! hope all’s going well in France!
Reed [6:35 p.m.]: been thinking out loud about you all day
Me [6:37 p.m.]: Is that an Ed Sheeran pun XD
Reed [6:38 p.m.]: it’s accurate ;) I have to be up at five for a shoot, so I’m about to go to sleep. Everything’s going well, just super chaotic. How are you? How was work?
Me [6:40 p.m.]: I’m good! don’t let me keep you up! I know you have a crazy schedule. I’ll talk to you tomorrow. Night R. Tyler!
Reed [6:41 p.m.]: The schedule they have set for us tomorrow is insane too, so if by chance I miss you with the time difference, I will most definitely talk to you on Friday <3 How’s your schedule for the weekend looking?
Me [6:42 p.m.]: I’m around Friday night and Saturday. Sunday will be a little busy, but we can catch up in the evening!
Thursday
Mom [3:00 p.m.]: Honey! what do you think about Vegas for the bachelorette?
Do you have a theme in mind? You, me, Aunt Teresa and Whitney?
Maybe we can get concert tickets! Can you design us matching shirts?
With the kind of doodles you do on your Etsy shop?
That would be so cute! Let me know when we can have a planning meeting!
Me [3:14 p.m.]: Hey Mom, I have a session with Whitney and Glenn at 6:30 my time. I’ll call you after that.
It’s only 9 p.m., but Reed’s already asleep in France. I’ve been debating using the journal all day. I know what hotel he’s in.
But he’s working. And I have work. And a jump that far would constitute a sizable task both ways. And take a significant toll on my body.
And he’s asleep. What would I do when he woke?
Follow him around like a groupie through his interview circuit?
Would we even have time together? And how would I explain myself?
I just dropped, what, a thousand dollars on a Thursday evening to maybe hang out with him halfway across the world while he’s working? One week into our relationship?
Friday
I cry on the train home. I stare unseeing out the window as tears well over, down my cheeks. I barely know why. Because I haven’t spoken to Reed since Wednesday?
Because I’m growing increasingly anxious about this weekend’s ex-interview-pocalypse?
I have no idea how that’s going to go. All these men gradually stopped speaking to me after I told them I work for Love Today. Will they apologize? Seeing them again is going to be incredibly uncomfortable, and all these confrontations are going to take place in front of fucking Ted.
Ted thought I didn’t even like him.
I liked Ted. Didn’t I? He was nice. He was attractive. We had similar interests. I made him laugh. He made me feel . . . wanted.
But being with him was constant work with very little payoff.
I spent all my spare time planning dates.
Organizing quality time. Trying to get him to commit to a schedule.
I was living off love kernels. Tiny things he would say that somehow proved that he cared about me and I should continue trying to make it work.
The way Ted frames our story is so skewed.
He says he wanted to be with me, but his actions never reflected that.
He never tried to enjoy things I was passionate about like I tried to enjoy soccer.
I watched every game with him, and the man wouldn’t read one book with me.
Wouldn’t even listen to me gush about them after I finished one.
Babe, I didn’t read it because I wasn’t interested in it.
That hasn’t changed. Why the fuck would I invite him to meet my book club after that?
I feel like I got more from Reed in two dates than I did my entire relationship with Ted. Everything decent Ted ever did was me directing him to be kind. To return the care and consideration I was doling out constantly.
He didn’t yell at me. He didn’t hit me. He didn’t break my stuff. He didn’t threaten me. He would cook with me when I asked. He was the bare minimum.
Did I string him along like a toy? Not consciously. But I never had strong feelings. I never felt like I feel right now about Reed.
When I think about how much I like Reed, I feel like I’m folding in on myself. I picture my body shrinking into a dense marble lost in a heap of clothes on my seat as I clutch my legs to my chest, watching the darkness rush by.
He lives thousands of miles away. I have my eight jumps left on the journal, but what happens after that? How will this ever work?
What if we never puzzle out how to be short distance? I already have such big feelings for him, and it’s all happened so fast.
My twenties lasted a hundred years, but a month into thirty, and I feel like I’m hurtling toward old age. How long will it be before we can be a sees each other casually throughout the week couple?
I want to be with someone I can come home to. That I can smile at from the stove while I’m cooking. That I can pore over a recipe with. That I can read next to in bed at night.
I want what he said he wanted. To go to bed at this same time, together. I want to rearrange my schedule for someone and make that a reality.
And there’s a very high probability that we’ll never get to that point.
What if I never find someone I like this much who I can actually be with?
It was a new sort of strange back in July at Whitney’s wedding, noticing that my aunts and uncles had aged.
It happened in the blink of an eye. For so many years they all looked the same: Frozen in middle age as all of us youths rapidly morphed from kids to teens to young adults.
Now my cousins are popping out kids. Those aunts and uncles are grandparents.
They’re all building out separate new families that I’m not a part of.
Whitney’s married. My mom’s getting remarried. Micah and Jordyn are gonna have a baby. They’re probably going to move to a house soon after that.
I’m quickly becoming a party of one.
Everyone’s moving forward, and I’m at the starting line, incessantly revving my engine, getting absolutely nowhere.
I want to build a life with someone before I’ve crossed over into grandparent age. I want the option of starting a family with someone if I ever decide I want to. I want the stupid traditional things that I’ve been ingrained to believe are a guarantee, and I might never get them.
I’m having a mild panic attack against the train window.
I close my eyes and slow my breathing. Counting as I inhale and exhale.
Jordyn holds a fork in the air over her empty plate like a teacher’s pointer. She jabs it in my general direction. “I think that’s just what being in a long-distance relationship is.”
“What do you mean?”
We just finished having dinner together. Micah’s on the couch, working, but Jordyn and I have lingered at the table.