I’m still chasing Oxburg for payment.
My dad is still complaining.
And everyone’s commenting on how the September sun is hotter than usual.
The only difference is my brother is slumped on the chair in my office, his leg in a boot.
Oh, and my heart is broken.
I know I was only away for two nights but it feels like it might have been a month. Something inside me has rearranged itself. I’m different. For the first time after a trip to New York, I’ve brought the Big Apple back home with me.
Usually, I say goodbye at the airport and I’m able to put the trip, the ballet, the different sights, sounds, and smells to the back of my mind and not think about them again until the next year. I store away my fantasy—my taste—of a different life. It allows me to get back to the farm like I never left.
This time it’s different. Now, every time I blink, I see Jack. I feel his hand on my face, his lips on mine. Every now and thenI turn my head and I catch his scent. I know it’s impossible. I’ve showered twice since I saw him and washed everything I was wearing, but sometimes it almost seems like he’s here. Lingering.
Thoughts of him.
His scent.
He’s all around me.
Being back in Colorado is harder this time. Today in the office has been difficult. Despite being busier than usual because of my brother’s leg, the hours have dragged. I can’t wait for the end of the day, but at the same time, I don’t want to go home. Still living with Dad and Bray has never bothered me. A couple of times, I’ve had the opportunity to move out, but the money it would cost would probably mean I couldn’t afford to go to New York and so it’s never seemed worth it.
But today, all I want is a place of my own.
“I’m not going to be able to cook,” Bray says. “Or play hockey.”
“I’ll inform the NHL,” I snap.
“Wow, thanks for the sympathy. I know you cut your trip short, but it’s not like I took a mallet to my own leg.”
I sigh. I know I’m being snappy. I need to box up thoughts of New York and Jack and toss them into La Poudre Pass and hope they end up in the Gulf of Mexico. But it’s harder than it should be. I gave up on my dreams of dancing a long time ago. I grieved them along with my mother.
For a long time I wanted more than I had.
I wanted my mother back.
I wanted my career back.
Eventually I made peace with what I was able to have. I learned to live with what I had rather than what I wanted.
But now, meeting Jack? It’s brought all those old feelings to the surface. I could never have Jack, however much I might wanthim. I could never have a life with him. I know I have no right to want more. We have a roof over our heads, food in our stomachs, and a job to go to. We’re a lot luckier than a lot of people.
New York just made me yearn for more.
No doubt I will get over it. Overhim. It just might take me a while. And I might be a cranky grump until then.
“Right,” I say. “I’m sorry. I just really want Oxburg to pay up. I’m going to try them one last time.” I dial the number of their finance department, just like I’ve done at least a dozen times today. Most of the time no one answers. When they do, I leave a message for Karen to call me back, but she never does.
Miraculously, someone answers, and I ask to speak to the elusive Karen.
“This is Karen speaking,” a voice says into the phone.
It takes a second for my brain to catch up to the fact that I’m actually speaking to the person I’ve been trying to speak to for weeks now.
“Karen, this is Iris Wilde from Wilde’s Farm. I’m following up on two invoices that have been outstanding over ninety days. Can I give you their numbers?”
“Sure thing.”
