16. Ned #2
Ned’s face is burning. Surely Abbot can figure out Ned’s situation with all of those smarts of his.
Does he really have to hear Ned say he can’t afford to even look at places?
Yes, apparently, and this is absolutely mortifying to put into words.
Struggling with money in grad school was one thing, but Ned’s a professor now.
He should be beyond worrying about finances, and that he isn’t, sitting in his crappy car next to Abbot in his nice suit, makes him want to yank open his door and ditch out onto the side of the icy road.
I’m a walking, talking pile of debt now facing unemployment, is what he should say, but he sidesteps it with a grin and a soft touch to Abbot’s leg. “You should probably find somewhere you like, and maybe later we can talk about this, okay?”
“When is later?”
“Assuming Newbury works out.” If it doesn’t…
well, maybe Peggy will find a gemstone. A giant, honking pile of cash, and pull that from her pocket along with a toad.
Or who knows, he could have some long-lost uncle about to kick the bucket, unknown to him and his parents, and he’s left his considerable wealth to Ned.
It could happen. It won’t, but it could.
“Why does Newbury matter? We’d be getting a place together.”
“Yeah, exactly.”
“So?”
“So what?”
“So why does your job matter? Or waiting however many years?”
Discomfort itches up Ned’s neck. Of course it fucking matters. Are they really doing this? Talking about money? Ned needed some warning. A drink. An escape plan, that’s for damn sure.
“It just does,” Ned manages.
At his current salary, and with the payments he has to make, and supporting Peggy—if it were Abbot, he’d have a spreadsheet and a timeline and a fucking plan. But what’s the point, when the end of every month comes along and Ned’s barely moved the needle on what he owes?
“I’d just need some more time, is all,” Ned says. “Sort some stuff out.”
Like selling an organ, maybe. Research how absolutely stupid it would be to cash out what little retirement savings he has.
“But as you said, my house is worth a lot more than when I bought it,” Abbot says.
“Yeah,” Ned gets out. Of course it is, owning it for so long. But he was with Louis when he bought it, wasn’t he? Did they buy it together? Ned has no idea, he realizes. Abbot doesn’t talk about him, like he doesn’t talk about most things. Does Louis still own some of that house? Did he ever?
“So if I sell it, I can buy us a place.”
“Okay,” Ned says, because it’s easier to keep agreeing and let his thoughts swirl. Though they stop then, and he backs up, piecing together what Abbot said to Sandy, too. Slowly, he asks, “But you’d have to pay off your mortgage, right?”
Ned waits as he drives down a block, from stop sign to stop sign, Abbot sitting quietly beside him. “Right?” Ned prompts again.
“I own it.”
“You own it,” Ned says, relieved he’s not naming Louis as holding the other part of the deed. Abbot and the bank only—which is…which is actually not what he’s saying, not at all. Ned’s voice is too high as he asks, “Outright?”
“Yes.”
Ned jerks the wheel a little. A pothole, he wants to blame it on, but the road is smooth. “You own your house?”
“I do.”
“What? Why?”
“Why?” Abbot echoes. “Because I paid it off a couple years ago.”
How? Ned doesn’t let himself squeak. He’s going to take another wrong turn, he’s sure.
It doesn’t matter because Abbot is—he owns his house.
And has enough money for a down payment too, apparently, on top of that.
His car, Ned suddenly thinks. Does he own that too?
He’s always assumed Abbot’s been paying it off like any normal person, but Abbot is not talking about normal things right now, he’s talking about—
“Are you rich?” Ned asks.
“I—what?”
“Sorry.” Ned grips the wheel. That was rude. He’s sure that was rude, but his head is such a mess he’s not entirely certain. Owning a house and a car feels rude, frankly.
He’s…he’s jealous, he knows. And a little off-kilter. Confused to be learning this from Abbot sitting so calmly in the passenger seat of Ned’s slightly less shitty car than the last one Abbot rode in.
“I suppose I’d need more parameters to answer that.”
Ned waves a hand. “It’s none of my business.” Of course it isn’t. Abbot’s finances are his to worry about.
Though he probably doesn’t have to worry. Ned wouldn’t, if he owned a house outright.
And it’s fine. Ned will add it to the list of what little he knows about Abbot at the end of the day.
Did he buy that place with Louis, and who exactly was that guy he was with during college, and who else has been in his life but gone unmentioned?
A jigsaw puzzle, Ned’s always fondly thought of him as, but it suddenly feels like he’s never seen the picture on the box and is now finding out half the pieces are missing.
How much money does Abbot have? Ned knows how much Abbot makes, roughly.
And he doesn’t have a kid to pay for, which Ned has always assumed is the difference between them.
That and he wasn’t saddled with dragging his finances through a divorce.
All of which explains the gulf between the cars they drive, the suits Abbot wears, and how he doesn’t look at the price on the menu or at the grocery store, so easily sliding his credit card out to pay for things.
No student loans either, Ned has pieced together, though he’s assumed that was scholarships and any university tripping over itself to have Abbot as a student, or just the fact of going to school in Europe instead of the debt-ridden hellscape of higher education in the US.
But it’s more than that, clearly. Ned eyes him.
Didn’t he just go skiing while he was in Switzerland?
Abbot mentioned wanting a weekend away to do the same here.
Ned’s been skiing maybe twice, and was never one of those kids with lift tickets hanging from his coat zippers, the sport way too expensive for his parents to consider.
And Abbot flies to Europe a couple times a year.
First class? Ned suddenly wonders, because this entire time he’s imagined Abbot in the back of the plane, landing with aching knees from his too-long legs.
Abbot turns, looking out his window, and Ned readjusts his hold on the wheel. This is uncomfortable, suddenly. Such a far cry from the amusement that meeting was supposed to be, the softness of the morning, coffee and tea and Abbot sharing the newspaper with Mom.
“I think we’re coming at this from really different spots,” Ned says slowly.
Yes, that’s a good enough way to put it, so Ned doesn’t have to point out that his spot is below a mountain of bills he needs to pay, and Abbot’s spot is yet another aspect of his life Ned knows nothing about.
Ned doesn’t have to give voice to the frustration that causes, welling up through him now in a way he’s not entirely sure he can staunch if they have to keep talking about this.
“But that doesn’t matter, if we buy something together.”
“It does to me,” Ned says.
“Why?”
“Why?” Ned echoes. Because of what he owes. Because he can’t buy a place, and he can’t move. Because—because. “Look, can you at least fill me in a bit on your side of things?”
“No.”
“What?” There it is, a burn of exasperation Ned tries and fails to push aside. “No? Just like that?”
“I’d rather not talk about it.”
Ned forces himself to take a breath. “Okay, look, the specifics, that’s fine if you don’t want to share, but maybe the big picture?”
Abbot sits silently, rubbing his fingertips together. It takes him another two blocks to say, “I told you. I paid off my house.”
“Sure, but what does that mean? Abbot, what are we even doing right now? You want to talk about buying a place without talking about—”
“You seem to not want to talk about it, actually.”