“I’ve never said that.” Julia’s voice was barely audible as she stared down at the stainless-steel sink, a single silent tear escaping and pinging on impact.
“You don’t have to.”
They stood there in silence, both defeated in a game that had no winners, no survivors. The television was still playing in the background as the sunlight faded outside, the blinds allowing stripes of sun-kissed dust to invisibly flutter between surfaces. Julia wished her problems could fade with that light–could disappear behind the horizon as the quietness settled over her.
She heard a car’s engine start, the wheels slowly turning out of the drive–a beckoning, a second chance. For a moment, as the silence sunk in, she wanted to run after Erin. She wanted to open that front door and rush to her car like one of those cliché rom-coms. She wanted to tell her not to go.
But what would be her reason to stay? Other than a few fleeting rushes of nervousness and warmth, what else did she have to go on? She knew she couldn’t trust her gut. Marin made sure of that.
The real reason she hadn’t done something about the flutter of bee wings in her stomach every time she was in Erin’s presence wasn’t that she was afraid of losing her job. It was just a job, never as important as she told herself it was. It wasn’t a part of her identity, as much as she believed it was. It wasn’t what got her out of bed in the morning anymore, never the reason she refused to snooze her alarms. It wasn’t what kept her going.
The real reason was that she knew she was a cyclone–rotating pressure, sucking everything into her gravitational pull until there’s nothing left. She leveled years of hard work, of sweat, and tears. What if she ruined Erin like she ruined Marin? What if after those few months–after she enacted her inevitable damage–Erin would leave too?
That didn’t mean Keegan wasn’t right. Maybe she was just sabotaging everything. Maybe it was okay to lose control. Maybe she was allowed to be happy again without feeling like she was unworthy of it. Just maybe.
By the time the scales in her mind tipped favorably into that even being a possibility, Erin’s car was gone, leaving nothing but ice mapping out her tire tread.
“Where is it?” Keegan asked, now inching closer to her, hands gripped on her hips.
“Where is what?” Julia set another plate in the sink, avoiding her eyes.
“The envelope, Julia.”
She froze, her heart rate betraying her mind and vibrating her chest as if it held thousands of tiny metal balls, clinking as they bounced off one another.
“Why?”
“Where is it?” she asked again. She knew it was still there. Even after all that time, she knew that Julia didn’t have the nerve to sign it.
Julia leaned against the counter. She took a deep breath and collected her ricocheting thoughts before sighing. She walked past Keegan towards the foyer, her hand resting on the side table drawer. She opened it slowly, the cold bronze knob stinging her fingertips. Inside sat the envelope, the one she pulled out of that frozen mailbox. She held it up and turned back to face Keegan.
“Here.” She didn’t hand it over.
“Why?” Keegan’s voice was soft with disappointment. “Why is it still here?”
Julia couldn’t answer. She breathed deeply, her lungs threatening to stop functioning forever. Had her nostrils always been that small, not allowing the proper amount of oxygen? Had her chest always risen and fallen in such a demanding manner?
“Sign the papers, Julia.”
“I did,” she sighed, pushing the envelope back in the drawer.
“Then why is it still here?”
She wanted to laugh and say something like baby steps, but it wasn’t. It was more like an ant stretching their legs with the anticipation of filling the footprint of a giant. It was too much.
“I want you to be happy,” Keegan took a step towards her and held her hand, “even if you don’t think so, you deserve at least that. Sign the damn papers. For once, put yourself first. For once, chase after happiness.”
Julia didn’t have anything to say to that. And so, Keegan helped her clean up the rest of the mess, their night ending a lot earlier than usual. The sobering silence wrapped around them as one washed and the other dried dishes, falling back into routines so easily.
“Just so you know,” Julia dried her hands on the towel hanging off the gray cabinet above, “I’m not going on that double date.”
“Julia!” Keegan gasped. “Come on!”
“I don’t want to and I’m tired of you talking me into things that I don’t want to do.”
“That’s fair, I suppose.” She sighed exasperatedly, and then spoke in her most childish voice, “but, what if we compromise?” Julia rolled her eyes. “Do it just this time so Ben can impress her, and then I’ll never guilt you into another date.”
Julia thought about it. One night and she’d be free from any chance of another awkward conversation with a stranger in dim lighting. One simple favor, and all the dating soap operas would be over.