Chapter Twenty-Two
Twenty-Two
My mom was never one to pry. But she took one look at me on Sunday morning, curled up on the couch with Murray, doing my best not to cry into my coffee, and she was there with a proverbial crowbar.
“Shitty time at the renaissance festival?”
“You could say that.” I shook my head, fresh tears welling up when I’d thought I didn’t have any left.
I’d cried the better part of the night, and was it possible to cry in your sleep too?
My eyes were puffy and huge, and every time I blinked it hurt.
But I didn’t want to talk about it. Just saying it out loud, that I’d let myself fall for Alex and now he was gone yet again, was exhausting.
I didn’t want the I told you sos from everyone I knew.
I decided to start with the good news instead. “Emily offered me a full-time job at the bookstore. So I’m staying in Willow Creek. I’m not moving to New York.”
Mom’s eyebrows shot up as she studied my tear-swollen face. “Well.” She settled on the couch next to me and slid a comforting arm around my shoulders. “As long as it’s the decision that makes you the most miserable.”
My laugh was an unexpected squawk. “That’s not it.” I studied the milky surface of my coffee as though I could read my fortune there.
“It’s that boy, isn’t it?” It must have been a mom thing, making it sound like I was a teenager again, talking about a boy I was crushing on in English class.
I nodded anyway. “He’s gone.” It felt so stupid, crying over this.
He was always leaving; this was never a surprise.
But for a few precious minutes yesterday, I could see our future together, and it was perfect.
I’d let myself hope. And that little bit of hope, now that it was gone, made everything hurt more.
I took a shuddering breath. “I liked him,” I said. “I liked him a lot.” That wasn’t the whole truth, of course, but it was all I could say.
Mom was quiet, and when I glanced over at her she raised her eyebrows at me. “Maybe even loved him?”
My heart skidded. Can’t get anything past moms, can you? “Maybe.” The word was a defeated sigh. “But it’s too late now. The first time around I was too young.”
“You were too young.” she agreed. “Jesus Christ. At least you weren’t sneaking around behind my back this time.”
“But this time around I’m…” I gave a defeated shrug. “Too straitlaced and boring, I guess.”
“He said that?”
“No, but…” But yes. Flashes of last night bounced around in my head. His look of disgust at the idea of a regular nine-to-five job. The kind of life I’d been talking about wanting all summer. Office drone. “My life isn’t the life he wants. I’m not what he wants.”
Her arm tightened around me, as though her mom powers could protect me from all the pain of the world. “So what?” she finally said.
I didn’t have an answer for that.
“So what if you’re not what he wants? Fuck him.” She brushed a lock of hair off my forehead, a gesture that made me feel six years old. “I’d much rather you know who you are, and live your authentic life, than try to change yourself for a man.”
She was right. I knew she was right. But it was a hard pill to swallow.
“I thought Alex was going to be my Mitch,” I finally said. “But turns out he was more like my dad.” I furrowed my brow. “That didn’t come out right.”
Mom snorted. “You should probably talk to a therapist about that.”
It was a teasing suggestion, but she had a point. “Emily did say this new job comes with health insurance. Maybe I should try and figure out why the men in my life never stick around.”
“Sounds like it’s a them problem, not a you problem.” She made a tsk sound. “Still, it’s not the worst idea.”
As I took a last sip of my almost-too-cold coffee, I had to admit I felt a little better. There was something magical about talking through your problems with your mom.
“Shouldn’t I be too old to go crying to my mom when I’m upset?”
“Oh, honey.” Mom’s smile was kind, and maybe even a little sad. “I hope you’re never too old for that.” I rested my head on her shoulder, and she planted a kiss on the top of my head. “I’m really glad you’re staying, you know.”
“Me too.” And I meant it. Last time around, Alex had broken me.
Because I’d let him. But that young woman had healed; the old wound had closed, making me stronger.
I knew who I was now, and I was home. I had my friends, my family, and they had my back.
I wasn’t going to let him break me a second time.
—
If I’d seemed less than enthusiastic about my decision to stay in Willow Creek, my Aunt Emily more than made up for it at the bookstore on Monday.
“This is the best news!” She launched herself into my arms, like she was the niece and I was the aunt, but she was short and her exuberance was catching, and I found myself grinning into her hair as we hugged.
“Have you told your mom yet?”
I nodded. “I broke the news to her yesterday.”
Emily made a pfft noise. “Broke the news. I know she’s thrilled. You should have seen her when you left for college. So much crying. Seriously, she lost her shit.” Emily was smiling way too much for someone talking about her sister’s misery.
“I think at this point she’ll be more thrilled to have her house back.”
“Have you looked at those apartments yet?”
I shook my head. “That’s next.” I grinned, with a cheer that I almost felt. “I thought I’d make sure you hadn’t changed your mind about the job offer first.”
“Never.” Her expression changed as she tilted her head, studying me. “I’m sorry about Alex.”
“What the hell? Did Mom talk to you?” I’d forgotten; news travels fast in a small town. Dammit. I’d been doing such a good job holding it together.
She shook her head. “Alex did. He stopped by yesterday.”
“On his way out of town, huh?” In a way it was a relief to know that he was really gone—the Band-Aid had been ripped off. If I was going to get on with my life, he needed to do the same.
Emily was kind enough to not answer that. “He said that you two…”
“Yeah. We’re done.” My voice was gravelly and I coughed into my fist. “I didn’t realize you and he were buddies.”
“Me? Not really. But Simon kind of adopted him this summer, and I think they got pretty close.”
“Isn’t that nice,” I said flatly.
Emily tsked at me. “I just mean that Simon was worried about him. Something about having to quit the circuit? I didn’t catch all of it, but they were talking about—”
I put up a hand. “No offense, Em, but I don’t care what they were talking about.”
“Oh, I know.” But the way that she kept talking said that she didn’t know at all. “But Simon was just saying that—”
“No.” I was so loud that her mouth snapped shut, her eyes wide. “I don’t want to talk about Alex,” I said. “Or hear about him. I just…” I had to stop talking before I did something stupid like cry. My eyes had just stopped being all puffy.
Thankfully, Emily finally got the hint. “You’re done.” She nodded. “Got it. No Alex talk, I promise.” She mimed locking her mouth and tossing the key over her shoulder.
“Thanks.” My smile was faint and didn’t fool her in the least.
“Listen…” She gave my shoulders a squeeze. “Why don’t you get out of here,” she said. “I have to pull all the paperwork together to get you officially hired. Go find yourself an apartment.”
Translation: You’re fresh off a breakup and you look like shit. Please don’t scare the customers. Gladly.
—
It didn’t take much to talk Nina into looking at the apartment with me. All I had to do was put up with a little heckling.
“Told you that you were back.” The smugness in her tone would have been annoying if she hadn’t been grinning so hard.
“Yeah, yeah.” I gave her a mock punch on the shoulder as we walked to the entrance of Willow Creek Tower.
Growing up, this old hotel had been a major landmark despite it being boarded up for as long as I could remember.
Its exterior was gorgeous, with its wrought-iron balconies overlooking the street below.
The corners of the building were dotted with gas lamps that I’d never seen lit.
Mom would always look up at it wistfully and shake her head when we walked by.
“It’s really too bad,” she’d say. I’d ask why nobody bothered to fix it up, and she’d go into a long explanation that involved permits and probable structural damage and I would usually zone out and ask if we could go to the bookstore.
The leasing office was just off the main lobby, and the manager was thrilled to give us a tour.
“We only have a few units left,” she said as the elevator began its slow climb to the fourth floor.
I watched the numbers tick by on the old-fashioned dial above the doors.
While the mechanics were obviously new—the elevator glided silently—the interior of the elevator car had full-on vintage vibes.
Yellowed buttons in an antique font, elaborately patterned carpet beneath our feet.
I let myself feel excited, those daydreams of art nouveau details feeling more and more possible the higher the elevator climbed.
“What’s available?” Thank God I brought Nina, to ask practical questions.
“The building has twenty-four units all told, but right now we only have four vacancies. Three studios and a one-bedroom.” She glanced over at us, appraising but not judging.
“The studios might be too small for you two, but if you don’t need too much personal space you’d probably be fine in the one-bedroom. ”
“Oh,” I said, startled. “No, it’s just for me.”
“We’re not a couple.” Though Nina wrapped an arm around my shoulders because she loved sending mixed messages. “I’m just her emotional support lesbian.”
I gave a solemn nod. “I’m tragically straight.”
The leasing manager gave a long-suffering sigh. “Right there with you,” she said, and Nina and I exchanged a look. Yeah, we liked her.
“Anyway,” I said, “can I see the one-bedroom?”
“Of course.” The elevator doors glided open on the fourth floor and we followed her down the hallway, where she unlocked a door on the right.
She ushered us inside and handed me the key.
“There’s some information on the kitchen island; feel free to take it with you.
Once you’re done, you can return the key to me in the office.
” With that she was gone, leaving Nina and me alone.
I took a couple of slow steps inside. It wasn’t the apartment of my daydreams: no Tiffany chandelier in sight.
But it wasn’t a cheap flip, either; just like the elevator, the reality of this place was somewhere in between.
Practical laminate flooring and modern appliances, so I didn’t need to worry about things breaking, but more antique touches around the window frames and doorknobs.
Nina walked into the center of the room, doing a slow circle.
“This is tiny as hell.” She wasn’t wrong.
The small kitchen flowed into the living room, with the bedroom off to the side.
But I didn’t need a mansion; a one-bedroom apartment would be just fine.
From the window, I could just see the yellow awning of Read It she’ll make the vodka sodas extra strong for us. ”