“No,” Matt said. “It’s going to be rented out most of the time and very much full.”
This wasn’t exactly true, but we’d found a friend of a friend who was moving to DC and looking to rent a furnished apartment for at least a few months, though we hoped he’d stay longer. I was the one who didn’t want to get rid of our apartment—it seemed more trouble than it was worth to put everything in storage, and I’d convinced Matt it made more sense to hold on to it, especially if we could rent it out part of the time. “I’m sure we’ll be back a few times during the year,” I pointed out. “And we’ll want a place to stay.”
The truth was, getting rid of the apartment seemed final, like we were leaving DC for good. And we weren’t. We’d be in Texas for eleven months at the most (less if Jimmy lost the primary) and then we’d return to DC, and surely we’d want to move right back into our place, at least at first. It made me feel calmer to think that we’d still have a home, a place that was ours, even if we weren’t living in it.
We got to the Kellys’ around one, but it was clear that Rosie had been there for hours. There was chili on the stove and corn bread in the oven and the dining room table was set. In the TV room, college football was on and there was a fire going. Matt and I each accepted a Bloody Mary from Rosie and settled on the couch. Everyone was tired and the noise level was noticeably lower than normal. All of the kids had disappeared to the basement, each holding armfuls of new Christmas toys and games. I chatted with Nellie about the dinner they’d been to the night before, but for the most part everyone just sat and watched football.
Between the fire and the Bloody Mary, I felt like I might just close my eyes and take a nap. But next to me, I could feel Matt fidgeting and checking his watch. He was anxious for this lunch to be over so we could get home and finish packing. We planned to leave by 7:00 the next morning and still had a bunch of things to do, and I knew he was already worried about getting it all done. Matt had been flying back and forth to Houston for the past couple of months and was more than ready to be settled in one place. He’d even tried to get out of the New Year’s lunch when Babs first suggested it, which (of course) didn’t go over well.
Rosie set crab dip on the table, and Meg practically flipped off the couch to get to it, sitting cross-legged on the floor so she could be within arm’s reach.
“Meg, slow down. No one else can get to the dip with you inhaling it,” Babs said.
Meg looked up and showed no sign of being offended as she said, “Whatever, I’m starving,” then went right back to eating the dip.
—
As we sat down to eat, I was almost getting a little sentimental about being away from the Kellys for so long. And then Babs turned to me and said, “How will you be spending your time in Texas?” It was almost like it had just occurred to her that I’d be there too.
“Well, I’ll be helping with the campaign however I can,” I said.
“That should be interesting,” she said. “It’s not exactly your skill set though.”
“No,” I said. “Not exactly.”
“She’s going to take some time to write,” Matt said. He’d been bringing this up ever since I agreed to quit my job, and sometimes it seemed that he was more attached to the idea than I was.
“You’ll have to find a hobby of some sort to keep you busy,” Babs said, taking a tiny bite of chili.
“Yeah,” Jenny said from across the table. She winked quickly at me. “You should start knitting.”
—
After lunch, everyone hugged us good-bye like we were never returning, and Matt kept saying, “You guys, we’ll see you really soon.” Grace and Lily made a big deal out of presenting a good-bye card that they’d made for us on a large piece of cardboard. On the front, they’d drawn me and Matt with oval limbs, long smiles, and cowboy hats. There was a scrawny-looking horse in the corner and a fat cow by our feet. Matt had a lasso in his hand, and across the bottom they’d written in glittery letters: YEE-HAW!
“I think they’re confused about Texas,” Jenny whispered to me.
I traced my finger over the chubby cow and said, “Who isn’t?”
—
As we packed the car, Matt started to worry that we should’ve gotten a U-Haul. “I think we’ll be okay,” I said, but I wasn’t so sure. We were trying to arrange the bags so that we still had a sliver of visibility out the back window and somehow kept making it worse. Most of what we were taking was clothes, but there were some other things I hadn’t wanted to leave behind. When I packed the coffeemaker, Matt gave me a look, but didn’t stop me. Once we were finally done and everything was in there, the car sagged low to the ground.
“Is that going to be okay?” I asked.