I nod and smile because no speaking is actually required. And because I can’t possibly be jealous that Annell and Dorothy are communicating directly. Without me.
When we arrive at Between the Covers, there is no surreptitious depositing of book club names or even blank pieces of paper.
I’ve barely set my purse on the counter or hugged Annell hello when she and Dorothy make a beeline for each other.
“I honestly can’t believe how perfect a match he is,” Annell says in delight. “It’s almost as if he was made-to-order.”
They decamp to Annell’s office so that Dorothy can get a look at Howard Franklin, whom Annell is already referring to as Howie, even though they haven’t yet met in person.
I hate to sound bitter or jealous, but they remind me of my middle schoolers down to the squeals of excitement.
I stuff a few book club name suggestions in the box, only it’s nowhere near as fun as it was when Dorothy and I were psyching each other out.
jaun·diced
\ ˈjȯn-dəst, ˈjän- \
adjective
1. affected with or as if with jaundice
2. exhibiting or influenced by envy, distaste, or hostility
Ex: “My view of men and relationships may be slightly jaundiced.”
Erin
Early Saturday afternoon, I pull up in front of my brothers’ house to deliver a care package from our mother, who, despite the height and weight of her three sons, lives in constant fear that they will somehow waste away to nothing if she fails to provide regular sustenance. Travis’s Jeep, which is the largest of their vehicles, is in the driveway, with its back window up and its tailgate open. Duffel bags and camping gear are stuffed inside.
I knock on their front door, which is only a formality because it is virtually never locked. “Mom sent you guys some homemade subs and brownies,” I announce as I walk in. I don’t mention the salad she’s also sent because I know it will never be eaten.
“Perfect timing.” Travis is packing a cooler that sits on the kitchen counter.
“It’s like she can read our minds or something,” Ryan says as he takes a six-pack out of the open refrigerator and hands it to Tyler, who then passes it to Travis to stuff into the cooler.
“What’s happening?” I ask.
“Road trip,” Ryan replies. “The Braves are playing a doubleheader against the Rays tomorrow, and Josh hooked us up with tickets. We’re driving down to Florida today and coming back on Monday. We’re all going to take sick days.”
I would never do that sort of thing to Jazmine or any other employer, but I am not my brothers’ keeper. “When are you leaving?”
“Soon as we have the Jeep loaded.”
“It doesn’t bother you, does it?” Ty asks. “That we’re still friends with Josh?”
Travis stops loading beer long enough to cuff him on the back of the head. He’s protective that way.
“Of course not.” My answer is automatic. I told Josh to his face that calling off our wedding turned out to be for the best, but was it true or was I just trying to save face?
I feel around inside searching for tender spots, hidden bruises. Nada. The well of loss that I once thought I’d drown in? All dried up.
The only thing inside me is . . . me. Which is kind of stunning. “It really, truly doesn’t bother me. Not even a little bit.” I straighten and examine myself one more time. “I don’t think I’ve ever felt better.”
Their faces show various degrees of skepticism. But I haven’t felt this good or this clear since the day Josh told me he couldn’t marry me. I love learning from and working with Jazmine. I’m building new skills and growing stronger and more confident every day. I can hardly wait to start representing clients of my own.
“In fact, I think it’s time to look at apartments.” The idea sends a little shiver of excitement darting through me.
“You can live with us if you want,” Travis offers generously.
“Yeah,” Tyler chimes in.
“Sure,” Ryan adds. “There’s that extra room just after you come in from the garage. You’d have your own space. All you’d have to share is the bathroom.”
My shiver of excitement turns to a shudder.
“It could be sort of like Snow White and the Seven Dwarfs,” Ryan says.
“Except there’s only three of us,” Ty points out.
“And we’re clearly not dwarfs.” Travis rolls his eyes.
They look at me expectantly.
“That is so sweet of you,” I say, going up on tiptoe so that I can kiss each one of them on the cheek. “But I’ve never really lived on my own, and I think it’s time.”
I am touched by their offer. Really. But the bathroom thing? Not even a zombie apocalypse could induce me to share one with all three of them. Ever.
Judith
I wander through the silent house, slipping in and out of empty rooms.
Nate’s clothes, including decades of lucky ties, still hang in our closet. The kids’ bedrooms haven’t changed since they were in high school. They’re hermetically sealed time capsules of the children they once were. Documentation of the family we used to be.
The all-white kitchen feels cold and sterile. It’s no longer a place where meals are cooked or shared. It’s a place I walk through or heat something up in, where I make my lone cups of coffee.
In the family room, I sit down in the recliner from which Nate watched a succession of ever-thinner, ever-larger televisions and stare unseeing out the French doors to the backyard, where sunlight dapples the magnolia leaves. I catch a faint buzz of a distant lawn mower as my neighbors go about their lives.
There are things I could do. Places I could go. But I sit here in the silent emptiness. I have to do something, change something. Become something. Because if I continue to try to fill this place up by myself, I’m going to snap.
Before I can talk myself out of it, I do the thing I’ve been unable to make myself do. I hit speed dial and wait for Ansley to pick up.
“Hi, Mom. We just got home. Can I call you back a little later? We . . .”
“No.” I say this quickly, before she can hang up. Because if I don’t do this now, I’m afraid I never will. “Hold on. I’m going to add Ethan to the call.”
When I have them both on the line, I dive in before I can lose my nerve. “I just called to let you know that I’ve decided to sell the house. It’s too big. It’s too full of . . . everything. I need to sell it. And I . . . I just wanted to let you know so that you can come back and select whatever you’d like to keep before I put it on the market.”