“We can always leave early tomorrow,” Kayla offers.
“You need a good night’s sleep, so you can shine tomorrow.” I scoop up the empty plate and shuffle to the kitchen.
“Please, literary Barbie always shines.” Catherine laughs.
“If only I had a Malibu Dream House.” Kayla sighs. “But she’s right. I could give this talk in my sleep. I don’t say this lightly, but you’re more important than Austen.”
I mock-gasp. “What would the National Jane Austen Society say if they knew their keynote speaker uttered such blasphemy?”
“I’ll blame it on my friendship with a Brontë scholar,” she sasses, grabbing our empty mugs from the coffee table.
“We Brontë scholars are the bad girls of the literary world, so that tracks,” Catherine quips. “Jensen, are you sure you’re okay?”
“No…” I heave a breath. “But I will be.”
Right now, it’s hard to feel okay about any of this. It’s hard to see past the pain right now, but deep down I know I did the right thing.
Just like my friends have said, this needed to be in the open. I may have lost Garrett forever, but I’ll pick up those pieces in the morning. If there’s one thing I’m learning, it’s that I can do hard things. I can train for a marathon. I can ask a man I care about for what I want, and stay true to that when he says no.
“San Diego isn’t that far, and if I need you, we have these things called phones.” I hold up my mobile, currently supplyingthe music we are listening to, and shake it. “I’m going to take a long, hot shower and lose myself in an audiobook.”
“Perhaps one with female rage,” Catherine suggests.
“Or a gory horror.” Kayla wiggles beside me at the kitchen sink. “I have many suggestions.”
Once my friends leave, I do just that. I take such a long shower that I worry I’m breaking some sort of California drought-related ordinance. After, I tug on pajamas. Braiding my wet hair, I stare at the hoodie at the end of my bed. It’s Garret’s, which I haven’t returned. It’s also my go-to hoodie most nights. I want to put it on to live in the delusion that his arms are wrapped around me and not just the soft fabric.
“Pathetic,” I mutter, scooping it up and tossing it into my closet.
Slipping on a different hoodie, I take Catherine’s suggestion and listen to a thriller with a gothic vibe. The sudden banshee-like scream of wind causes me to jump. Between that and the debris battering against my balcony’s glass door, I’m almost transported into the book’s spooky setting. It’s a sharp contrast from this morning’s sunshine.
The power goes out, plunging my apartment into darkness. “Crap.”
I move to the balcony door, open it, and poke my head out. Outside is also blanketed in black. The lights that normally shine into the building’s small courtyard are dark. Grabbing my phone, I turn off the audiobook to check the power company’s website.
Losing power with my limited vision is an interesting experience. In so many ways, I’m better prepared than most to navigate in the dark. My apartment is set up so I can non-visually find and do most things. Still, I’m at a disadvantage if I leave my apartment or need to use some of the devices I rely on.
Locating my flashlight, I go through my internal power outage checklist. I turn on several battery-operated candles, placing them around the apartment for light. Next, I double-check that my door is locked, including the deadbolt. Then, I text Anker that the power is out, but I’m okay.
Anker: Here too. Want me to come over?
Me: Nope. I’m going to listen to my audiobook and go to bed.
Anker: By audiobook, do you mean your erotic audios?
Me: Yes.
Anker: I did that to myself.
The grimace that—no doubt—covers his face causes me to snicker. It will never not be fun to mess with him.
Saying goodbye, I crawl into bed. I nix the scary book for the latest F.M. Iversen audio to lose myself in a Prohibition Era romance between a high-society darling and a bootlegger. Their angst to lovers’ story reminds me of Garrett and me. Only we didn’t quite get to lovers.
I rub my chest, hoping to soothe the ache that comes with thinking of Garrett. Is he at the hospital right now? As much as I know his excuse for leaving early was bullshit, I wouldn’t put it past him to go there to check in, especially with the power outage. The hospital has generators, so it’s likely unimpacted, but both he and Anker talk about increased admissions during outages. I can picture Garrett, with that always-constant frown on his face, as the steady captain in the midst of all the chaos at the hospital. The thought pricks sadness as much as it comforts.
Sighing, I undo my now dry hair from its braid, allowing the wavy tendrils to hang loose. I plop against my pillow, trying to lose myself in Alicia and Tom’s story, rather than my thoughts of Garrett and mine. At least, Alicia and Tom have a happy ending.
“Battery Low,”my phone’s robotic voice announces.
