In July, I was back to the West Coast for two days, nowhere near enough time, never enough.
What would be enough? How could we measure the adequacy of our time together when we still didn’t know what we were? The situation was bordering on lunacy.
We were two broken people, trying to find our way with blinders on because someone was destined to be even more broken when we were done.
One weekend a month, alternating locations, swallowing as much of each other’s air as we could in forty-eight to sixty-four hours wasn’t even close to enough.
Janie poked fun at our situation, but I knew she was happy for me. We’d worked out and were chatting over coffee one Sunday, both of us stirring our foam into our lattes.
“Janie, I need you to support me in this. I need you because I don’t have anyone else,” I said matter-of-factly as she took my hand and squeezed our palms together. “I know this wasn’t what you wanted for me, but it feels right to me, and you know my mom is so messed up.”
“It’s probably with both your dad and grandma gone, she’s even more focused on you. But I do love you and if this makes you happy, I support you.”
She gave my hand another squeeze and leaned over the table and kissed me on the cheek. My affectionate Janie couldn’t spend a second without kissing someone.
“Plus, you look so good recently,” she said. “If I didn’t know better, I’d think you had ass fat injected into your cheeks. You’re always smiling and look perkier, and your face doesn’t look all sunken in.”
“That’s the muffins I eat at the coffee shop,” I said with a laugh. “Not ass fat.”
“Well, you should work for those muffin people because they look good on you.”
I shook my head. She was crazy at moments, but the closest thing I had to a sister or confidante.
August turned into a bigger challenge. Layton was working around the clock on three movies and also traveling to Colorado to meet with a smaller studio. I was on deadline for my first book, my editor champing at the bit for my words.
Layton and I met for one glorious night in Arizona. We both flew there Saturday morning and I took the red-eye home on Sunday. Layton took the midnight flight home to Los Angeles. In between, we crawled into bed, ordered room service, and had coffee on our balcony—which was the only time we spent outside the room.
He left a love bite on my thigh and we giggled like teenagers about hickeys.
We watched a bootleg of a movie he worked on, releasing later in the month. He fed me strawberries dipped in champagne in bed. I read him the prologue of my latest work in progress. He made love to me, softly and slowly late Sunday afternoon before we headed to the airport.
I cried on the way home. It was the first time I’d cried. The melancholy surrounding our separating deepened each time I said good-bye. This time, it actually caused physical pain. My chest burned as much as my thighs ached.
But we still hadn’t saidI love you.
There were lots ofI’m falling for yous andI miss yous andI care so much for yous. No mentions of love. I knew I did love him, as sure as my tear fell onto the tray of my coach seat.
On my flight home, I reminisced about the first time we met. Layton had been almost invisible to me back then.
Since then, everything had changed. I didn’t fly first class anymore. Janie took a step back from managing my love life. I was writing, and eating muffins.
And Layton was now my everything.
The next month, my mom’s name popped up on my iPhone as soon as I packed up my stuff at the coffee shop. I thought about screening it, but she’d just call again.
“Hi, Mom.”
“Hey, Charli. What’s new? Are you stilljustwriting?” Her disdain traveled all the way from another state, through the phone and deep into my soul.
“Yes, Mom. I am. That’s what I want to do.”
It was still sort of nice out, breezy, the sun was beginning to set, so I decided to walk a bit. I connected my earbuds and stuck them in while only half listening to her.
“ ... what happened to your big career?” she was saying. “Graduating early? Dad would’ve been so proud of all that.”
“Mom, I thought that’s what I wanted to do, but it wasn’t. I’m happy. I wasn’t so happy back then. Plus, I’m my own boss now, more responsibility and control.”
“You’re changing your mind because of the freeloader guy in California.”
