“Judah … no.”
I say it with such finality it surprises me.
Judah raises his eyebrows in amusement, licking off his spoon and dipping it back in.
“Well, it’s not really your decision.” I don’t miss the laughter in his voice. He knew this declaration would mortify me. He timed it just right so it wouldn’t ruin my dinner.
“Why?” I ask. “We left there for good. We said we’d never go back.”
He says one word to me, and it chills my spine.
“Marrow.”
I feel the Bone like it is a flesh and blood person, looming behind me, waiting for my answer.
“I have the fancy education,” he says. “I can teach anywhere I want, but I’d rather give my gift back to the Bone. They need good teachers there, Margo. You remember.”
He says this as if to sway me, but it only makes me resent our former home even more. Judah is right. He can teach anywhere in the country. Why waste his life on the Bone and the worthless excuses who live there?
“Why not come here?” I exclaim. “Like we planned all those years ago.”
“So I can watch you and Johan live out your life?”
Why does his voice suddenly sound so bitter?
“Johan and I are not that serious, Judah. Eventually he will go back to South Africa.” And then, as if to make myself feel better, I add, “He’s on a work visa.”
“My mother has high blood pressure; the doctor has her on all kinds on medication. I don’t know how long she will be here. I want to spend time with her.”
I think of Delaney, and I immediately soften. If I had a mother like her, perhaps I never would have left the Bone.
“When?”
“After the holidays,” he says. “I’ve already let my job know.”
“I don’t like it.”
“I know.” He reaches across the table and runs his fingertip along my knuckles.
“Come with me,” he says.
I jar. Both at the idea of it, and the fact that he’s asking. For a moment I wonder if perhaps his feelings for me have changed.
Before I can answer, my phone chimes from my purse. It’s the fifth time someone has called. It’s Johan.
“Hello,” I say after hitting the call button.
“Hey baby,” he says, the richness of his accent pooling through the phone. He doesn’t often call me baby. It was more Margie, Margo, and Mar, which I hate. I wonder if Judah’s presence is making him feel insecure.
“I was wondering if you wanted to bring your bud to the boat tonight. We can take her out and have some drinks, hey.”
I glance across the table at Judah, suddenly annoyed at the way Johan punctuates all of his sentences with hey.
Is it, hey?
We have to get some fresh ground pepper, hey.
Remember we have that dinner with my aunt tonight, hey.
“Not tonight, Johan. Judah is feeling a little under the weather.”
Johan sounds disappointed, but says he understands. When I hang up, Judah slouches in his seat and pretends to look ill.
“I didn’t know I was sick, but now that you mention it…”
“Shut up,” I tell him. “I just want you all to myself for one night. Is that so bad?”
“No,” he answers. Suddenly the moment feels too serious. Both of our eyes are dewy, and our body language has become stiff and awkward. It’s the most peculiar moment Judah and I have ever had. He flags over our server, and we hurry out into the rain.
By the time we reach my building, our clothes are soaked through and my arms are aching from pushing Judah’s chair up one of the steeper Seattle streets. We shiver in the elevator, laughing at my streaked makeup and Judah’s nipples, which are visible through his white shirt. Our chortles vibrate through the hallway, and then stop short. Johan is standing at my door, sheepishly holding a bottle of wine.
“Hello, gorgeous,” he says, pulling me in for a kiss. I feel my body stiffen and try to relax. He’s doused himself in cologne, and underneath I can smell the slightly fishy smell of the ocean. I turn my body away from his and look at Judah who is watching us with a strange expression on his face.
JOHAN OVERSTAYS HIS WELCOME. A strange thing to say about my own boyfriend, but it’s true. Once I brought wine into the room, both of them relaxed. Johan chatted about fishing boats and his catch for the day, while Judah listened quietly, nodding and smiling at the right times. When the conversation dwindles along with the hour, Judah announces that he is going to bed, and that he’ll leave the two of us alone so we can have time together. I shoot him the dirtiest look I can muster, ashamed of my feelings about Johan. Judah is only here once in a while, I think.
I watch him wheel himself into my bedroom and close the door. Johan looks toward the bedroom strangely. “It’s breezy in here tonight.”
“I’m tired,” I say. He nods. I walk to the door ahead of him and hold it open, biting down my guilt. I just want him to leave, so why am I with someone I just want to leave?
He kisses me at the door, but I pull away and step into the hallway, closing the door behind me so we have can privacy to talk.
“What is it?” he says.
“Why did you come here tonight?”
He looks embarrassed, glancing over his shoulder and down the hallway like he wants to make a dash for the elevator.
“I wanted to see you,” he says. “Is that so wrong?”
“I told you I was busy this weekend.”
“You don’t look very busy. I thought … I thought you were seeing someone else.”
I’m breathing as hard as a horse. Can’t he see that I am? Surely he could pick up on what was between Judah and me. I feel rage—the type of rage that makes me do stupid things. But breaking up with Johan is not stupid; it’s necessary. Like throwing out clothes that you’ve outgrown.
A door opens down the hall and my neighbor steps out, walking toward the garbage shoot with a giant, stinking bag of trash. I wait until he’s back in his apartment before I look at Johan.
“I’m in love with someone else.”