by Lindsey Hart
Thinking about hours makes me think about nights, and thinking about nights makes me think about dates, and thinking about dates makes me think about Cliff. I have this strange tingle in my stomach when I think about him. About those unread messages. It feels a little bit like dread, so I smother my inherent need to worry, stuff my resumes into my tote, and escape my apartment.
A few hours later, I’ve handed out all my resumes. Out of all ten stores I went to, none of them said they were hiring, but they all took my resume anyway. I got two compliments on my vintage wool coat, and another on my boots. I even had one girl I didn’t know say she liked my tote, even though it’s new and not vintage at all. It is bright yellow, though, which, according to her, is a super trendy color right now.
I feel slightly deflated on the drive home. I’m not one of those eat your feelings kind of people, but I am craving pizza. I haven’t had it forever. Since I technically have no job, I don’t opt for the expensive, extra delicious takeout option. Instead, I stop for a few groceries. Everyone says to buy healthy things when your mood is off—to help give you the energy to get your butt in gear and stay in gear—so I treat myself to a bag of grapefruits since I love them, a salad kit, a loaf of raisin toast, a tub of cream cheese, and two frozen pizzas.
Back at home, I pop the ham and pineapple pizza into the oven. My stove is ancient, and the oven doesn’t get overly hot. As I know it’s going to be at least an hour to cook a twenty-minute pizza, I wander into the living room and sprawl out on the couch.
I check my phone for what feels like the hundredth time. Cliff still hasn’t read my messages. Now I’m getting kind of worried. Sweaty palms kind of worried. Maybe I should have emailed. Now I don’t want to because I feel like that would be overkill. Maybe I should call. Should I call? Should I text my sister? And tell her what?
Hey, Janice, so that guy I was trying to arrange dates for? Well, I messed all of it up by letting him know I have feelings for him, and we sort of got it on in an old barn. Hmm, not sort of. We totally did, and it was AMAZING, and now I quit my job, and he’s not answering any of my messages. He’s not even reading them. Is that bad? Should I be worried? Oh, and by the way, I have no idea what I want to do with my life. Actually, that’s not true. I do. I just have no idea how to get there.
Even as the thought flies through my brain, I jolt upright on the couch.
I do know what I want to do with my life. I want to own my own vintage shop. I want to work in one. I just want to do something with vintage clothing because I know it, and I love it. I wouldn’t call myself an expert, but I do know quite a bit. I’m a good thrifter too. In fact, I decorated my apartment almost entirely with thrift store finds. I love vintage furniture and art, and I’m pretty good at finding good deals at garage sales and even auctions. It’s the right season for sales. I didn’t know what I would do with all my free time, but now I have an idea of how to fill all those extra hours.
There are a ton of retro and vintage sites that I follow. Some businesses are only online. Some operate through social media, and they make a lot of their sales that way. They direct traffic to their website or to other sites. Some sell from apps too. And however they do it, the point is they don’t have a storefront. They don’t have the overhead cost of the rent for a building or all the bills that entail. If I wanted to have my own store, why couldn’t I do it right now? I could make a business page, put a few things on, and go from there. I know it would likely take a lot of advertising power, but as I already follow so many vintage sites, maybe I’d get some traction just from people checking me out from all the times I’ve commented on their pages. I know I’ve crept on other people’s pages countless times. I could do some low-key advertising on social media or even on classifieds sites and see how it goes. I really wouldn’t be risking anything, and I could keep looking for a job. Maybe, if it works out, I could even find a job and do it on the side until I could grow it enough to support myself or start a real storefront.
The smell of something burning tugs me out of my thoughts. I realize I forgot to set a timer for the pizza, so I rush into the kitchen. I fling open the oven door, and a cloud of grey, hazy smoke drifts out at me. I fan it away, sure that my pizza is going to be a lump of char, but I let out a sigh of relief when I see it’s only half cooked. The oven was just burning off some spilled cheese on the bottom from the last time I made cheese toast. It looks like most of the smoke is clearing off, and whatever cheese was left burned up completely. I slide the small kitchen window open and wave the smoke out.
My kitchen counter is small, but I hop up on it anyway and keep an eye on the oven. I’ve had this penchant for sitting on counters since I was a little kid.
I start to make a mental to-do list of all the things I want to accomplish over the next few days. I make calling, not just texting, my sister a priority. I add a visit to my parents. It’s been way too long since I stopped by to see how they’re doing. I know we don’t have the best relationship, but maybe it’s time I worked on that too.
By the time the pizza is ready, I’m actually feeling pretty good.
If only Cliff would read my messages and answer me back, things would be just about perfect.
CHAPTER 15
Rowan
Three days later, I have to face the facts. It looks like Cliff ghosted me.
Not only has he not read my messages, but he hasn’t emailed, texted, or called. I’ve tried calling him, but he didn’t answer. I left a voicemail, but he didn’t return it. I also tried emailing him. He didn’t respond to that either.
I didn’t want it to look like I’m a stalker, so after day three, I decided to face the facts. It’s hard to swallow when it seems like he used me. That’s never a good feeling, but this is so much worse because, with Cliff, it was different. I took a chance. It turns out that sometimes, not all risks are worth it. The humiliation stings, but it really hurts that he didn’t even have the courage to tell me all he wanted was sex, and that after he got it, he’d have no interest at all. If he was just honest with me and told me he wasn’t into me after all, maybe I could have handled that. It would have been brutal, but not nearly as bad as his silent rejection. It makes me feel like there’s something wrong with me, even though he’s the one who didn’t even have the courage to give me closure.
I know I’m hurt, but I’m also surprised. We talked. We opened up to each other, and I thought Cliff was different. No, I know he was different. So how could I have been so wrong? Was everything he told me just a lie to get into my pants? It didn’t feel like it, but maybe I’m just so dumb that I fell for it, and I’m even dumber now because I still feel like what happened between us was genuine.
While I’m in the mood for eating a big slice of humble pie or facing facts or more soul searching, or whatever it is I’m doing, I decide to drop by my parent’s house. It’s after six, so I thought both of them would be there, but right after my mom opens the door and breaks into a huge smile I didn’t expect, she tells me my dad is working late at a meeting that had to be set for after hours. My dad has worked at an insurance firm for nearly thirty years. He started working there long before I was even born.
Mom looks good. She’s petite, just over five feet tall. Janice and I both get our dark hair with the red highlights from her. She might be in her mid-fifties, but she’s still beautiful. She runs at least four times a week and does yoga every other day. She went back to work when I was twelve, and she’s been working at the same law firm as a paralegal for fourteen years now.
“Come into the kitchen,” Mom says way too cheerfully. “I just baked cookies.”
When I inhale the rich, sweet scent in the air, I realize she’s right. She did. How she manages to get off at four-thirty and bake cookies for just after six is beyond me. Mom has always been a bit of a mystery to me. Despite the fact that we look similar, our personalities couldn’t be more different.
“Uh, alright.” My parent’s bungalow is on the smaller size. The kitchen is a
t the back, and it overlooks a small, fenced-off yard.
I keep expecting Mom to turn around with a frown and ask me what I’m doing here. I know I have to tell her that I quit my job. I told Janice yesterday when I called her, and I promised I’d tell our parents before they somehow found out on their own. I know it’s going to make Mom worry, and I feel like she’s had her fair share of worry when it comes to me already, so it makes me feel even worse.
Mom stops in front of the oven. She glances at her watch; she still wears a watch, and not just for fashion purposes. “The cookies still have another five minutes or so and then another five to cool. Can I make you a cup of tea?”
I want to tell her not to worry about me, but I know it’s pretty pointless. Especially with what’s coming, so I just nod. Mom doesn’t ask me what kind. She only ever has just regular black tea, which is fine with me. Mom doesn’t drink coffee, so I grew up with her constant cups of really dark tea. She makes it so bitter by brewing the bags for so long that she might as well drink coffee, but she never could be convinced.
“I’m surprised you came by. You didn’t call.”
“No.”
I stand there in the middle of the kitchen, which is completely closed off in a small square because my parents bought their house around the same time they had Janice, and they never did very many renovations, at least not when it came to opening up walls and stuff. I feel completely lost. I don’t want to twist my hands in front of me, because Mom would notice that right away, so instead I settle for rubbing my damp palms on my leggings.
“Uh, should I have? I’m sorry.”
“Don’t be sorry.” Mom turns around and smiles softly at me. “I’m glad you’re here. We don’t see enough of you lately.” By lately, she really means over the past six years or so, but I don’t comment on that. “You know you’re always welcome here, don’t you, Rowan?” Mom’s voice is even lower, even softer.
Suddenly, my eyes are tearing up, and I have to blink hard. No, I didn’t know it. I mean, I did know it, but my parents have never really said it to me before. I want to ask her why. Why now? Why tonight? But I don’t. I just nod and focus on blinking back the tears that are welling up pretty furiously. My chest hurts. My everything hurts.
“I have something I wanted to tell you, actually.” I have to force the words out. My throat is so dry that I seriously think about dodging past my mom, grabbing a glass out of the cupboard, and filling it with water so I can down it in a single gulp.
Mom whirls, horror already filling her expression.
“Oh, no, it’s nothing bad,” I assure her. “I guess, I mean, it sounds bad, but it really isn’t. It’s actually a good thing. I know it might worry you, but I’m fine. I want you to know that.”
“Rowan!” Mom stalks forward and grips my shoulders like she’s going to either shake me or slam me into her for one of those smothering mom hugs she’s famous for. “What’s wrong?! Are you sick?”
“Mom, no.” I laugh haltingly. “No. I just wanted to tell you that I decided to quit my job. It was time. I wanted to do something different, and I needed a shove. I wasn’t happy there anymore—kind of. At least, I think I could be happier. There are other things I want to experience. I know you and Dad have been at your jobs forever, and you worry about me, but I’m going to be fine. I’ll find something else.”
Mom’s eyes nearly pop right out of her head. In another second, I’m going to have to pick them off the floor for her, and I really don’t want to, no matter how clean my mom keeps the house.
“You mean you didn’t have something lined up already?”
I gulp. “It was kind of a spur of the moment decision.”
“But you weren’t happy?”
“I don’t know. It’s a long story. My boss has been a jerk for quite a while, and there were just other things I wanted to do. I realized I wasn’t happy, but I kind of just opened my eyes to that, and things happened fast after that. My boss was threatening to fire me, so I quit first since there was no way I could have saved my job anyway.”
“But—but you worked there for a long time. You were good at it!”
“I know.” I shrug like it doesn’t sting. I can’t explain why those barbs go so deep. It’s not like I can tell Mom all about my one-night stand in a freaking barn, and Cliff’s subsequent ghosting. I did tell Janice, and I have no desire to go over it again. “But it’s okay. I’ve actually been thinking about taking some night classes—for business and marketing. I want to open up my own store. Selling vintage and retro clothing and small items. Just online for now, but I’d eventually like to have something concrete if I could make it work.”
“But you’re looking for something real? A real job?”
“Yes, Mom,” I sigh. “I have to. I have no way of paying for classes otherwise. And rent and all that.”
Mom’s eyes widen and moisten all at once.
“Mom, no! Don’t do that. Don’t cry. I’ll get it figured out. I’ve already applied to some places, and I have a big list of places to email resumes too. I have some savings. Just don’t worry. I’ll get another job. I’ll be fine.”
I actually mean that. Despite what happened with Cliff, I’m determined to be positive. I might have taken a chance and gotten burned big time, and yeah, burns hurt, and no, I don’t have a job, but I’m surprisingly happy considering all of that. There are other jobs. I’m going to start this new business, and it’s something I’m passionate about. My heart? The same heart that feels like it’s full of thorns and splinters and nasty stuff? Maybe it will heal with time. I have to hope so. I don’t know what else I can do. Maybe it will be fine one day too.
“Fine?” Mom sniffs. “Fine? Why wouldn’t you come to us? We could have helped you. Helped find you something or—you know that we can help you with college classes. That we want to help you.”
“I know.” Actually, I didn’t.
I thought college classes were off the table since I didn’t go right after I graduated like Janice did. I moved out shortly after I met Calvin. After just three months of dating, I moved into his apartment with him. I didn’t actually have one of my own until we broke up. There was no way I was moving back home. I had too much pride to ask my parents for help. It would have been admitting they were right all along. I never thought to ask for help with classes. I never even considered them until I texted Janice last week.
“Then you’ll let us help you if you want to take some?”
“I don’t know. I mean, they’re probably expensive.”
“We paid for Janice’s college. All of it. We could definitely afford a few classes here and there. The house has been paid off for years, and we’re both still working.”
“I know, but it’s your money.”
“It is, which is why I should be able to spend it how I want.”
Mom gives me a look that tells me I might as well save my protests because she’s not in the mood for arguments. To her, it is already decided, and she actually looks excited for me.
When the kettle clicks, Mom pours the water into two cups. While the bags brew into something dark and barely drinkable, at least to my taste, she turns back to face me, a watery smile in place.
“I know the past few years haven’t been easy for you, Rowan. Your father and I have been worried about you. I just wanted you to know how much we love you and how proud we are of you. If you want to do this retro business, then we’ll do what we can to support you. A few of the ladies at work were talking about this site, where you can make a website with no experience. And you can also order business cards from just about anywhere if you need them. You have great taste and great style. I know you’ll do just fine.”
I have to blink back at my mom. I have no idea where this is coming from. Every single time I’ve been to my parent’s house since the day I met Calvin, our visits have been strained and uncomfortable. Before I met Calvin, I always felt welcome. I never felt like they judged me or disapproved of me. I guess I just knew how w
orried they were for me, and it made me feel weird and guilty. I kind of might have thought it was them. But I don’t blame them.
Now, standing here staring at my mom’s soft expression, I guess I’m starting to realize that maybe some of the strain between us was all in my mind, and the whole problem was me. I’m not sure why I suddenly have a different perspective. I guess maybe I really have changed these past few weeks. But why? Was it what Cliff said that night we were on our fake date? Was it what Janice said? Maybe it was just time.
Mom checks her watch again as she goes to remove the tea bags, surprising me, because I figured they’d be in there for a good ten minutes. She slips on her set of old oven mitts and hustles over to the oven before returning with a pan of delicious smelling chocolate chip cookies.
“Your dad will be home in an hour or so. Do you want to stay until then?”
A few weeks ago, I would have said no. I would have muttered something about being busy or made some excuse about work. I wouldn’t have done it to be mean, but because I just wouldn’t have known what to say. I would have worried about it, and it would have made me nervous and uncomfortable.
Now, there’s nothing fake about my smile. “Sure.” I nod at my mom. “We can sit down, and you can tell me about what’s been going on around here while I sample those cookies.”
CHAPTER 16
Cliff
My palms are so sweaty that they just about slip off my steering wheel. I know I’m in serious shit. When I finally got my phone back and powered it on, I saw all of Rowan’s messages. That was an hour ago. I just hope she’s home.
I don’t know what number to buzz, and I only realize it when I’m standing in front of her apartment. No one has their names on the little buzzer. It’s just apartment numbers. I stare at it for a few seconds before I reach for my phone. I charged it in the car on the way, but it still only has just over ten percent battery life.
