Once I’m outside, in a coolish seventysomething Nashville September evening, that uneasy feeling fades. The high energy of a city that never sleeps replaces the quiet as a bus blasting loud music drives by, the party guests screaming to all who might hear. I barely do anymore. When you live and work downtown, it all becomes white noise. Even on Friday night, when we become a whole other level of party city. Beneath the rowdiness, though, are culture, good food, and, for me, everyone and everything about my life I love.
My walk is short, a whole two blocks, and I stop in front of a used bookstore, as my loft is above the retail area. Three years ago this past June, I was living in a high-rise apartment not far from here. I’d chosen a high floor, as it felt safer, but the elevator wait was forever, and it was not a fun way to deal with groceries. I’d been considering buying a small house, like Jack, only closer to downtown than his place, which is a fifteen-minute ride daily, and I considered it with such seriousness that Jess and Jack were tolerating each other to help me look for a place. I’d started the process feeling as if I’d earned this step in my life. After all, I was at the top of my pay scale without changing jobs. I was in a stable, happy place in my career in general. I dived into the hunt bubbling with excitement, only to discover that everything I found was small and expensive, and defeat clawed at me as imminent. Then one day at lunch, Jess and I had been out walking and the FOR RENT sign had caught my attention.
She must have seen my eyes light up, reacting instantly, pulling me around to her. “No. This will be loud, cheap, and not yours.”
“I can’t afford a house I want where I want it.”
“I told you to spread your wings to other areas of the city.”
“I like being a walkable distance to work.”
“Move back in with me.”
“We’re grown-ass women, Jess.”
“I know that, but you can save money and buy the same house outright. You know I don’t touch my inheritance. I’ll pay for half.”
My heart had squeezed both with the generous offer and for the truth in those words. She really never touches that money, and yet she hasn’t donated it, either. Jess owns a nice house, drives a nice car, and wears designer clothes, but she’s earned it by being darn near famous at this point in her career. Sometimes I think she holds on to it to hold on to the connection it represents to her parents. Other times I think the connection it holds to her family disgusts her as much as they did.
One day we’ll figure out what she needs to do with that money, or she will, and I’ll just be there to support her, but it won’t be spent on me. I’d squeezed her arm. “Jess, I love you. I do. Thank you, but no.” I’d grabbed the FOR RENT sign, and the rest was history. Now, years later, the owners of the bookstore are thinking about selling it and the building, and I’ve saved enough to make all of this mine officially. But there is no way I’d leave the library to run the store, so soon I’ll be house hunting again.
I unlock and open the building door, locking up behind me. I ignore the glass doors to the store and head right a few steps, then up a set of stairs. My door is the only one at the top of the climb, and I quickly enter my loft, walking straight up the black steel staircase to the bedroom, which overlooks the living area and kitchen. I plop down on the bed, set my bag beside me, and kick off my shoes.
My phone buzzes in my purse, and based on the distinct sound of that buzz I heard earlier, I’m fairly confident it’s the dating app. The dating app I shouldn’t even be registered for—Thank you, Jess. I shake my head and ignore it, pushing to my feet and heading to the bathroom.
Fifteen minutes later, I’m in pajamas and on the bed, with my MacBook open, when Jess appears in my instant messages.
Have you looked through your messages yet?
Of course she means from the dating app.
No, I reply. I haven’t decided to even do this.
Please, she replies.
That word, please, is the start of a bigger push. She knows it. I know it. History knows it. My cellphone rings, and I answer with, “Tomorrow,” though I’m already loading the app on my Mac. “I had to work late. I need to unwind and watch some HGTV or Beat Bobby Flay.”
“You’re such a geek, woman.”
“You’re more like me than you like to admit.”
“I think it’s you that’s more like me than you like to admit. Tomorrow. I’m holding you to that.”
“I know you are. Good night, Jess.”
“I could come over and—”
“I’m in bed.”
“It’s seven o clock.”
“Isn’t it wonderful?” I counter.
She sighs. “Fine. Enjoy your HGTV. Lunch again tomorrow. Same place.”
“Fine. Lunch again tomorrow.”
We disconnect, and I don’t know why, but I log on to the app. Alerts pop up. I now have fifteen messages, no doubt driven by that photo that looks nothing like me. Thank you, Jess, I think again. I search for my profile and quickly delete the photo. I upload one of my perfectly “geeky” images that actually looks like me, the real me. Now we’ll see who really wants to message me.
Out of ridiculous curiosity, I click on my potential matches. I’m about four in when a surprising image appears. It’s Kevin Rogers, a man I didn’t think I’d ever see again. I’m not sure seeing him right now, even in a photo, is a good thing, either.
Chapter Ten
I dated Kevin Rogers. Me, the self-proclaimed Invisible Girl.
Sorta. I mean, I did.
It was all so strange.
I’d heard that Mary Beth Rogers, an elderly woman who’d been a regular at the library, had died. I’d noticed the address in the public announcement was walkable. Hoping to share my love for Mary Beth with others who loved her—she’d really become like a mother figure to me—I’d gone to the bakery, bought a selection of pastries, and dared to walk to the house.
I’d been awkwardly standing on the porch of a cute little home, second-guessing my decision to come here uninvited, when a tall, handsome, dark-haired man answered the door. Turned out Kevin was her grandson.
“Thanks,” he’d said, accepting the baked goods from me. “You know where the funeral is, right?”
I hadn’t planned to go to the funeral, but for some reason I just couldn’t say no. Flash forward to the next day. He’d been there, of course, but quite alone. Turns out Kevin and Mary Beth were all the other had left on Earth. It had been me, Kevin, and some elderly friends of Mary Beth’s. Kevin had cried and buried his face in my shoulder. When he’d asked if he could take me home, I thought he was just being polite. Turns out Kevin needed something I needed, too—a girl does have needs—and we’d ended up on my bed in what was a pretty fast and hard release.
I’d assumed he’d leave afterward. I was prepared for it. I didn’t really feel less inconsequential with him because we’d had sex. I’m not sure he knew my name at that point. I also fully understood that he wasn’t at my apartment for me. He didn’t want to be alone. He was with me to be with someone, anyone. But Kevin didn’t go home. He’d stayed the night. He’d eaten the breakfast I cooked. Then he’d left. I still knew nothing about him, aside from what he looked like naked and his relationship with Mary Beth.
It had been Monday morning when he’d surprised me by calling me and inviting me to lunch. During said lunch, he’d asked me to tell him about myself. He’d woken up from his grief and seen me. I’d radiated to the place of my heart and shared my love of books with him. In turn, he’d told me about his career as a programmer who developed games. Turns out he also liked to play them, which was fine at first. We’d been dating three months before I’d realized that we often sat next to each other on my couch while I read and he gamed, but we never actually talked. That’s when I felt invisible again with Kevin. I comforted myself with the fact that when he met Jack, Jack had liked him. As for Jess, when Kevin met her, he didn’t react to her beauty. She seemed invisible to him as well, almost as if he simply masked all of his true emotions to such an extent that I didn’t really know him at all.