—
That night, we picked up pizza on the way home and ate an early dinner in front of the television, balancing plates on our laps. We were all quieter those last few days—there was no more fighting or at least none that I saw. Matt wasn’t quite so forceful with his opinions, and Jimmy didn’t push back as much. The two of them were acting like a couple who are getting divorced but still have to live in the same house after the decision’s been made—there was nothing left to fight for so they may as well be civil.
The TV was on MSNBC, but as soon as we sat down, Jimmy said, “Does anyone mind if I put on the Texas game?” We all shook our heads no, and I was happy as the noise of football filled the room, sick of listening to the news.
Ash took tiny bites of her slice and then got up and walked her plate to the kitchen. I sat a few minutes longer, staring at the game, pretending to be interested, but I didn’t care about either team and it wasn’t particularly close anyway. I got up to take my own plate to the kitchen, grabbing Jimmy’s and Matt’s as well, both of them saying “Thanks” while keeping their eyes glued to the TV.
In the kitchen, Ash was on her laptop at the table but looked up as I walked in. “Everyone’s done?” she asked, and I said, “Yeah.”
I rinsed the plates and put them in the dishwasher, then turned to face her and said, “What are you up to?” It wasn’t that I was really interested, but it felt rude to leave without saying anything else.
She sighed. “I’m trying to get some things on the calendar for the winter months. You have to book so early for the holiday season. People just get so busy, but they’re also in the mood to buy things.”
“True,” I said. “I can’t believe it’s November.”
She shook her head. “I know it. And then the time between Thanksgiving and Christmas goes like that.” She snapped her fingers.
“Always,” I said. This conversation was one I would’ve had with my mailman, which was depressing, and I wanted it to be over, for us to stop saying these generic things to each other.
“You’re leaving so soon,” she said.
“I know.”
“Do you know what you’ll do when you get back?”
“No clue. I thought I’d have a great idea while I was here, but no such luck.” I didn’t realize this was true until I said it out loud, that some part of me was hoping I’d figure out what I wanted to do with my career while I was in Texas. But I didn’t. Almost a whole year had passed and not one thing had changed—I still felt as ambivalent as ever.
“Well, I’m sure you could always go back to DCLOVE,” she said, and then laughed at the face I made. “Or you could come work with me. You could corner the jewelry market in DC.”
My answer was completely sincere. “I’m not sure I’d be any good at it,” I said. “I don’t have your charm.”
—
When we’d returned from the last trip, Matt had suggested that he and I move to a hotel on the Sunday before the election and stay there until it was over. “To give Jimmy and Ash some space,” he said, which was sort of a ridiculous idea since we’d been living in their house for the past ten months. Why would we give them space now? I knew the real reason was that he didn’t want to be there after Jimmy lost, that he thought it would be easier if we could go somewhere else that night.
But I agreed to the hotel because I also thought space would be good, just for different reasons. I didn’t want to be in the same house as Jimmy—as hard as I tried, I couldn’t stop wondering what would’ve happened if we’d stayed longer at the bar that night; kept imagining him kissing me, hard, his hands all over me.
It was normal, I told myself, to have thoughts like these. Once, I almost googled it, to reassure myself that adulterous daydreams were common and harmless. (Surely Oprah had done a show on the topic at some point.) But then I imagined Matt using my computer, finding my search history, and decided against it. Which was maybe proof that I was guilty of something.
So I told Matt that I agreed, that I thought the hotel was a good idea.
We each took just a small bag to the hotel, leaving most of our clothes at the Dillons’. We’d need to pack it all soon enough. Matt had already started boxing up some things, eager to get ready so we could leave as quickly as possible.
I thought it would feel weird to stay in a hotel, but we’d stayed in so many the past year that when we got to the Holiday Inn Express, it felt a little like home, which was equal parts reassuring and depressing.
—