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JILLIEN
I keep waiting for the phone call. The surprise visit. Our resolution. It’s been three weeks, and nothing. No call. No answer to a text, and no moving truck in front of my house. I’ve scoured the real estate sites, and his house isn’t on the market. But the tax records say it’s in escrow. Does that mean someone bought it? Fuck. Why isn’t he here? Where’s my grand gesture?
I’m stabbing at my salad, and Meg is staring at me. She’s holding a napkin on a fresh scrape on her leg. She was talking about her daughter and gestured wildly, caught her arm on a lamppost, and it swung her around. She ended up finding the only metal shard sticking out of the post.
“Spill it. You’ve been fine. You’ve been almost giddy. You’re better?”
“Yes. Yes. Come on. Where is he?”
Meg sits up and leaves the paper napkin flapping on her wound. She’s always finding spectacular ways to minorly hurt herself. I’m used to it.
“Living his life. And you should be, too.”
I put down my fork. “I mean, physically, where is he? He should be here by now.” I gesture widely.
Meg takes a big swallow of iced tea and crooks an eyebrow at me. “What are you talking about, you lunatic?”
“He should be here by now.” I shove some more food into my mouth. I’m so anxious for this part to be over. It’s like I’ve been in a holding pattern.
“Seriously, are you drunk?”
I pause before I tell her this. But I bite my lip and let it go. “His house was all boxed up. Like he was moving. I keep waiting for him to show up here so we can be happy.”
Meg’s face drops. I don’t like this look or reaction. “Oh no. Honey, is that why you aren’t sad anymore?”
“Yeah. Why would I be sad when he’s going to surprise me by moving here?”
She covers her heart with her hand. That’s not good.
I continue with trepidation, “I believe he sold his house, and he’ll be here any minute.”
“Jillien, to quote my friend Peter, your delusional house of cards is about to come crashing down. Promise you won’t get mad at me. We thought you knew.”
“What?” I leap up and then sit back down. What is this? I fixed it. I fixed all of it. He’s coming here. That has to be where he’s moving. Into my life. My entire body goes fizzy. I don’t know what is happening.
“He moved to the Vineyard. He sold the house to his sister. She’s moving in with her kids. He texted Jake.”
I scream, and everyone in the restaurant looks at me, “Jake?! Jake! He texts Jake?!”
Meg sips her wine. After a lifetime of people overreacting around her, she takes me in stride.
“Explain,” I demand.
Meg squints. “I don’t understand how you didn’t know this.”
“Because Jake and I exchange Liam information all the time. What is even happening?”
“No. Because Ethan knows.”
“So he’s like a little texting machine up there in his tiny perfect beach house. What’s he been saying to you?”
“Nothing much, just hello and that kind of stuff.” My eyes get wide and my eyebrows disappear into my hairline.
“What the hell? Texting anyone and everyone, except me. That’s not fair. He gets to keep all the great pieces of my life but not deal with me?”
Meg laughs, but that wasn’t a joke. That’s me becoming unhinged. And now my body is warm pudding. I’m boneless, senseless, and sinking. A puddle of pudding. I don’t think I even have the capacity to blink. Can pudding blink? I sit there taking this in. Jake and Meg must have told Ethan. Ok. My body is reshaping and forming into a human. No time to be pudding.
“Why did Jake tell Ethan this?”
