Page 99 of Regretting Youu

I can hear the faint sound of my phone ringing down the hall. I’m sure it’s Jonah, but part of me wonders if it could be Clara, even though she hasn’t even had time to back out of the driveway. I rush to my bedroom, but I don’t recognize the number.

“Hello?”

“Mrs. Grant?”

I grab a Kleenex and wipe my nose. “This is she.”

“I’m the technician who’ll be repairing your cable today. I just wanted to let you know that someone will need to be home from nine until five so that I can have access to do the repairs.”

I sink onto the bed. “Seriously? You expect me to sit in this house for the entire day?”

There’s a pause. He clears his throat and says, “It’s just policy, ma’am. We can’t enter an empty residence.”

“I get that it’s policy for someone to be here, but you can’t give me a smaller window of time? Maybe two hours? Three?”

“It’s difficult for us to pinpoint a particular time because every repair varies in need.”

“Yeah, but come on. An entire day? Why do I have to stay in this house for eight fucking hours?” Oh my God. I’m cussing at the cable technician. I shake my head, pressing my palm against my forehead. “You know what? Just cancel it. I don’t even want cable. No one has cable anymore. In fact, you should probably start looking into other careers, because apparently being a cable technician is no longer sustainable.”

I end the call, and then I toss my phone on the bed and stare at it.

Okay. Okay. This is rock bottom. This is definitely rock bottom.