by Isabel Jolie
“Dean Schlosberger’s house? Potluck dinner?” His tone rises at the end of each question, and his expression is one of surprise, as if this is somehow a historic event I should be excited about attending. I’m not. I have a long history of feigning sickness or claiming a packed calendar to avoid faculty events just like this one. Not to mention, the man lives in New Jersey.
“No, I can’t make it tonight.”
He smiles his annoying smile that he always has splashed on. “You’re always busy.”
Not really. But for a faculty gathering in New Jersey, I am. But his attention isn’t on me. It’s on Maggie.
He points an index finger. “I know you. You were in my Team-In-Training group two years ago. The marathon.”
Maggie, of course, smiles from ear to ear. “Yes! I remember you. Thomas, right?”
Of course she knows his name.
They drone on. He hasn’t done an event since that one. He’s impressed she’s doing Ireland.
He hits my arm as if we’re pals. “Why haven’t you brought Maggie around? I always assumed you were ducking out to avoid all the couples.”
I stare off at the ceiling. I wish everyone would drop the couple bullshit. It’s annoying, and it makes it harder to keep things on the friend’s plane. Not that I’m doing a stellar job of that, given what just happened in my office. My collar tightens around my throat, which is odd because it’s not buttoned, but I grab at it anyway and rub my throat.
“Mags and I are just friends. She’s prepping for an interview in Chicago.” Nausea rises, and I feel like I might vomit. I don’t remember eating anything that could have been bad. Maybe I’m coming down with something, like the stomach flu.
“You’re moving to Chicago?”
Maggie straightens. She shifts her body so she’s practically talking solely to Thomas, as if they’re the close friends.
“Well, it’s doubtful.”
She explains more. My heartrate picks up, and out of habit, I place two fingers on my wrist. I haven’t been sleeping well. I never sleep well. It wouldn’t be surprising if I’m coming down with something. Flu is also on the rise. The university is like a sewage spill of germs. A ton of college students don’t even wash their clothes.
“Maybe next week we can get together?” Thomas’s hopeful question catches my attention. What the hell did I miss?
“I’d like that.” She’s going on a date?
They exchange numbers as I go through my backpack, searching for my thermometer. I used to keep one in here, but I haven’t been as cautious recently. I haven’t been using hand sanitizer either.
Thomas heads down the hall, saying I should come tonight if my plans change. As if I’m going to journey all the way to New Jersey.
“Hey, you know what, I remembered I need to do some shopping. Why don’t you stay here? You don’t like shopping, and I’d rather not deal with you grumbling as I try on outfits.”
“I’m coming.” I call after her, but she must not hear me because she doesn’t even turn around, just throws her hand up in the air and waves as she hurries away.
I don’t grumble when she tries on outfits. But she’s gone. Bolted down the stairs. No goodbye. I didn’t even get to tell her I’m not feeling well. The nausea diminishes, but I’m still not feeling great.
I follow at a normal pace down the stairs. I’ll stop by the pharmacy and pick up some good immune boosters. Give Maggie enough time to do her shopping and get whatever was so important done. Later, I’ll stop by to help her pack and prep for her interviews. It’s a good plan.
Chapter 28
Maggie
The bright cherry-red painted door swings open as I pull alongside the white picket fence. Several inches of snow blanket the lawn and bushes, giving the entire home a Norman Rockwell worthy backdrop. It’s the first snow of the season. It still feels like fall in New York, but Wisconsin is slipping into winter.
My sister stands waving from behind the glass storm door, my niece on her hip She’s been tracking my drive from the airport. Of course she has. I want to sit in my rental and absorb the Norman Rockwell curb appeal, but that’s not an option today, thanks to my eager hosts. Will, my sister’s husband, stands outside near the garage, waving me forward.
My tires crunch over the bump where Will created a small snow hill at the end of his drive. The snow shovel rests propped against the side of the garage, so perhaps he hasn’t finished his snow clearing task.
The curb appeal was essentially absent when they purchased this place around four years ago, but they’ve become home improvement extraordinaires. They added black shutters, the cherry red door, painted the house white, re-landscaped, and added the white painted picket fence, which I contend they will regret when they have to paint it each spring. But now, in the snow, the two-story colonial is Hallmark picture perfect.
“Hey there, big sis.” Will gives me a warm hug before popping my trunk open to lift my carry-on out. “Zoe is so excited you’re here. You have no idea.”
The moment I step in the side door, sweet vanilla cookie aroma mixed with a garlic scent surrounds me. “Aunt Maggie!” my sister belts out with my cuddly niece clapping her hands together and squealing by her side. I hug them both and kick off my boots.
“Are you cooking?”
Natalie answers with a happy “cookeees,” and Zoe offers an explanation for the garlic. “I have a pot of grandma’s chicken and rice soup on the stove, in case you didn’t stop for lunch.”
I follow Zoe into the kitchen and spin around, taking in the most recent renovation. “Zoe, this is gorgeous.” She’s sent photos, but seeing it in person really makes me appreciate the work they’ve done. They hired someone to replace the cabinet doors, but then they did all the painting, and tile work on the backsplash. They stripped the wood floors and let the white pine shine through. Will built the center island out in the garage, and Zoe stained it. Natalie’s toddler art with squiggly lines and handprints covers the top half of the stainless-steel refrigerator, creating a sense of love in the bright white kitchen.
Compared to my cramped New York City apartment kitchen, this room is dream worthy. Each year prior to this one, they’ve redone one of the bathrooms. Zoe swears that one day they are going to move to a home on the lake, but when I look around, I see so much love, sweat, and tears, plus so many memories, I doubt they’ll ever move out of this home. This is where they brought Natalie home from the hospital. I mean, as long as they stay in Madison, I don’t see them leaving it.
Mom and Dad would, of course, love for them to return to Cedar Falls. Zoe had planned to do just that, but like many who attend the University of Wisconsin, she decided she didn’t want to leave. It’s not that Cedar Falls is a bad place. But Madison offers a vibrant college scene and quaint shops and restaurants. Lots of Chicagoans come out for a day trip or as a weekend escape. And, at only two hours away, she can daytrip into Chicago, something that cannot be done from our home in Iowa.
After downing two bowls of my grandmother’s coveted garlic-laden chicken and rice soup, I curl up with a blanket in the den, while Zoe and Will carry Natalie up for a nap. Zoe explained to me that on weekends, when Will’s home, they like to do nap time together, just like they do bedtime together.
None of the furniture in here really matches. It’s a collection of pieces she’s found in Goodwill over the years, although most of it is mid-century modern, so there’s a sense of cohesion. The walls are painted a stark white, and they seem to blend with the pale gray sky and snow backdrop of the front yard.
The sound of my ringtone for Jason drifts through the house. It’s the House MD theme song. Back in our later college days and for many years after college, it was one of our favorite shows.
My phone is in my pocketbook, sitting by the side door with my snow boots. I don’t have any desire to talk to him, so I pull the blanket up to my chin and close my eyes. He stopped by in the evening to help me pack. As if I needed help.
He didn’t d
o anything wrong, but when he told his colleague he and I were just friends, and he didn’t bat an eye when the guy asked me out on a date right in front of him, it felt like he lifted his arm and punched me. I know he’d never intentionally hurt me. And he’d definitely never raise his hand and hit me. But that’s how it felt.
In all fairness, he’s always been upfront with me. He wants me to find someone who will be good to me. And he doesn’t want to be that guy.
I don’t know what overcame me in his office. Maybe it was when he said that of course he’d move wherever I did, a depraved sense of hope rose. More and more often, I’m seeing that he’s attracted to me. In his office, there was no doubt there was attraction. And he enjoyed what I did. I didn’t screw it up. He came, for crying out loud. And I swallowed.
My feet are lifted off the sofa, and Zoe slides beneath them.
“She asleep?”
“Tuckered out. We should have a solid ninety minutes. Would you like an Irish coffee? Or a rosé?”
“I’ll have whatever you want.”
“Let’s do Irish coffee. With the snow outside, that’ll be good.”
She’s halfway across the room when Will’s voice echoes down the hall. “Sit, babe. I’ll get it for you guys. Do you want me to get a fire going?”
Zoe singsongs a “yes.” He bends down and kisses her, and I swear he moans, just from the soft kiss that grew a bit deeper. They’ve been married for five years. Sometimes it can be a little tough to be around the two of them, as they are so sweet together. She deserves the happy life she always dreamed of. She’s a good soul, my little sis.
“So, tell me about this job,” she asks as soon as Will heads off to the kitchen to play bartender.
I’ve filled her in on what little I know by the time Will returns with our spiked coffees loaded with whipped cream. He leans in front of the fireplace, taking care to place wood in a particular pattern before lighting the kindling.
“Will, you are a dream.”
He smiles as he responds, “If I wanna keep her, I’ve gotta try.”
As if my sister is going anywhere. She looks at him as if he’s her own special ice cream sundae covered in hot fudge.
“I’m gonna head upstairs to get some work done while you ladies catch up. Text me if you need anything, okay?”
Zoe and Will look into each other’s eyes, silently communicating the way couples do.
He’s a few steps out in the hall when he calls back, “Don’t worry about Natalie. I’ve got her if she wakes up.”
I sigh. “Maybe I should have gone to Wisconsin too. I think I missed the boat.”
She sips her coffee with a dreamy expression on her face. It’s sweet. Then something changes, because she shifts and goes from dreamy to concerned mama bear in five seconds flat.
“What did Jason do?”
I half laugh. “What do you mean?”
“Something’s wrong. I can tell. He didn’t come with you. And the only thing that ever gets you down is that jackass. So, spill.”
“He didn’t do anything.”
She kicks her foot right into my thigh, and in response, I launch my heel against whatever body part of hers I can slam into. We glare at each other.
“Don’t make me spill my drink,” she scolds with an index finger aimed my way.
Tears blur my vision. It’s my sister, and I need to get it off my chest. It’s time.
“I’m not proud of how I’ve been acting.”
Zoe softens as she waits for more.
“I kicked him out last night.” The Irish coffee bears a strong bourbon flavor, and I close my eyes to appreciate it and to avoid my sister’s gaze.
“What happened?” She’s quiet, a hint of caution in her tone.
“We’ve been sleeping together.” The silence that follows forces me to lift my eyelids and check on Zoe.
“Not surprised.” She pushes the blanket off her hip and shifts to cross her legs and face me. “But maybe I am a little. Why did he wait so long to make a move?”
“How do you know he made the move?”
“Because I know you, Mags. You aren’t the type of girl who would make the first move. Ever.”
Hearing the truth out loud smarts a little and swirls a few other emotions around too. Then I remember yesterday.
“Yesterday, I came on to him.” My cheeks warm as the embarrassment of that aftermath hits.
“Wait. Start from the beginning.”
So, I tell her. I tell her about the tequila night. About the sofa. The massage at my house. I don’t get around to telling her about his office. It’s too fresh and too embarrassing.
“Okay. He’s clearly attracted to you. Has he given you a reason for not wanting to be more than friends?”
“No. I mean, just that we can’t lose our friendship. It means too much.” A loud truck rumbles by on the road in front of the house, drawing my attention outside. “I think it all comes down to Adam. I think on some level he still sees me as Adam’s girlfriend. And after we fool around, he feels guilty, so then he acts weird.”
Zoe halfway closes her eyelids and cocks her head. “Wait. You said you threw him out. Why?”
I bury my face in my hands. “Zoe…it was awful. I kind of got it in my head that if he and I kept hooking up, he’d eventually warm to the idea of us being more, or we’d slip into more, ya know?”
She nods her understanding.
“Well, yesterday, when I told him about this job opportunity, he told me he’d move for me. He said it as if there was no question. He’d move anywhere I needed to move. Would leave his prestigious job behind in the blink of an eye. And, well, I thought that must mean he sees me as more. But I was so wrong.”
“I’m not following. What happened?”
“Well, we fooled around.”
“Office sex. Nice.”
“Not sex. But…we fooled around.”
“Okay. Not comfortable sharing. We’ll work on that. And then?”
I roll my eyes, indignant at being poked and prodded for more information.
“When we left, we ran into one of his colleagues. Turns out, I know the guy. He was in one of my training groups a couple of years ago.”
“And?”
“And nothing. He asked if we were dating, and Jason answered truthfully. He said we were just friends. Then he stood there emotionless as the guy asked me out on a date. Seriously, no emotion whatsoever. If a girl comes on to Jason in front of me, it slices me. I’m sure I’m like an open book too. Like everyone knows. And Jason…he’s got red hair! When he’s upset, it shows. You can see it. Nothing. Nada. Couldn’t have cared less. Pale skin, no color. Moments before, he and I were together. I thought we were progressing, but no. I mean, I could tell him I want a friend with benefits arrangement, and he’d probably agree, but it would never, ever go anywhere.”
A lone tear escapes down my cheek as Zoe wraps her hand around mine.
“You haven’t finished your story. What happened that made you kick him out?”
“He came over later, uninvited, and acted like everything was normal. I almost ran away from him after we bumped into that guy, and Jason didn’t even notice. He let himself into my apartment, announced he’d ordered pizza, and asked if I minded if he turned on the TV while I finished packing. Like nothing at all happened. But here’s the thing, Zoe, nothing happened. It’s all in my head. He hasn’t done anything wrong. I’m the one who’s emotional. And it’s making me treat him horribly. But, I can’t—”
“What did he say when you kicked him out?”
I think back. Shameful. Because I didn’t kick him out. Not really. I should have. And, in my way, I did. I told him it was time for me to go to bed. He responded that he wasn’t feeling great and said goodnight. I should’ve kicked him out. I should’ve stood up for myself. But…
Zoe taps my leg. “Huh?”
“He didn’t really say anything.”
“He may not have said anything, but he’s done plenty. I
f he wants only a friendship with you, he shouldn’t be taking advantage of you sexually. He clearly knows you want more, and he’s not being mindful of your feelings. He’s not treating you like a friend. That guy is an ass. And I don’t know why you’ve put up with him for so long. But it’s like you can’t say no to him. Honey, it is time to move on. Move to Chicago and tell him hell no, he can’t follow you. You need space away from him.”
“This is why I didn’t tell you. I knew what you’d say. But even without telling you, I’ve been hearing your voice in my head.” It’s frustrating.
“I think it’s your conscience you’re hearing. On some level, you know you want more than what Jason can give you. Maybe you feel guilty leaving him behind, since he’s had cancer. But he’s not your responsibility.”
Loud footfalls clamber down the steps, announcing the end of nap time. Will lands with a thud on the landing, and Natalie beams. “I’ve got a little one who wants Auntie time.”
“Go sled?” she asks in her adorable toddler-speak.
I’m not entirely sure there’s enough snow to go sledding, but there’s no harm in trying.
Chapter 29
Jason
Dr. Clemmons, or Shannon, crosses her legs, then uncrosses her legs, as she reads my journal entries. When she finishes, she gives me a doctor smile. It’s an expression that says she’s a professional, and she’s going to attempt to make me better. I’m quite familiar with the doctor smile.
“When you wrote these entries, did you feel any emotions?”
I swallow and think back. “No. Not really.”
Shannon’s manner is thoughtful, reflective. “Can you tell me about how you feel right now?”
“Not good.”
The position of her head and the way she nods tells me she wants me to say more.
“To some extent, I feel dead inside. Sometimes it feels hard to breathe. It’s not literally hard to breathe, but that’s how it feels.”
“Do you feel this way all the time?”
I stare at a corner in her room, giving myself time to consider her question. “No. When I’m with Maggie, it’s not as intense.” She makes things better just by being near me.