“See you for a walk with George tomorrow morning,” he says finally, and I’m grateful: grateful that he’s going to stop avoiding me, but also grateful for a way out of this moment. Every time he gets too close, those lines delineating “friend” seem to get thinner and thinner. And I don’t need anything else confusing me.
“See you in the morning,” I say, taking my hand off the elevator door and watching as it closes.
Chapter 21
Nora: I can’t believe this trip is coming up so soon. Are you looking forward to the party? Or do you do stuff with colleagues all the time so this isn’t as big of a deal to you as it is for me? I’ve never met anyone!
J: I used to see people more, so yeah, this will be a good event.
Nora: Oh like, you used to go into the office more? Pre-Covid and all that?
J: Yeah.
Nora: I wish I could work from home.
J: Yes, no, that’s true. I’m grateful I can work from wherever.
Nora: It’s nice to have control over your schedule. Mine is so dictated by appointments and client consistency.
J: You have real people to deal with, and I just have people’s words.
Nora: good point!
Nora: Sowouldyou like to grab coffee while I’m there? I totally understand if you’re too busy.
J: No not at all!
J: I mean, no to being too busy. Not no to coffee.
J: Yes to coffee.
J: I’d really like that.
J: Can we decide on the time the day before? Just have to figure out my schedule for next week.
Nora: Oh sure, of course. I’m just going to the party and doing some sightseeing, so I can meet whenever.
J: Great. That’s really great. We’ll definitely do that.
The trip to London is less than a week away, so the prospect of seeing J has been looming, and my texts with J have been more normal and yet more abnormal. I know most people wouldn’t think of topics like the intricacies of being picked as normal, but that’s the part with him I’m used to. The logistics piece is a foreign object, a tool I’m clumsy with when I wield it.
This was the only time I’ve brought it up, and maybe I’m interpreting him as skittish becauseI’mskittish. But his whole response just feels odd. It’s as though I’m on the precipice of an important moment, and his reply is too vague to even get a grip on.
I should just try not to think about it. It’s going to be whatever it’s going to be, but I can’t stop myself from the extremely cringeworthy mental exercise of imagining every multiverse of scenarios, fromextremely awkward to happily ever after. Neither is reducing the pressure I’m putting on myself.
And that jumpy feeling also hasn’t been helped by things with Eli. Whatever is sitting between us has me more on edge than ever before, even if hehasshown up for our last few walks and managed to act excessively normal, much to my relief. But still.
I’ve got two hovering, imminent knocks at my door, and they both only get louder as time goes on.
So a nice quiet evening with my best friend was supposed to help with that.
Too bad Dane dragged me to her pool hall, and now both Kwan and Tom are standing giddily next to me. Apparently this is how my Sunday night is going to go. My best friend mostly ignoring me, and my elderly neighbors trying to peer pressure me into practicing a sport I’m indifferent to.
And ... is that our building president?
“Who invited Hearn?” I ask Kwan as I see Hearn waving to all of us.
Tom gives me a small shove. “Don’t be unkind,” he says, and I stop myself from pointing out that he’s sounding more and more like Mr. Rogers every day in his retirement.
