Coming Home to You

by Liesel Schmidt

  For now, I was going to have to satisfy myself with getting through the next few hours—hopefully sleeping through some of it. Sleep wasn’t often an easy task these days. Actually, the past year had been full of sleepless nights and erratic sleep patterns. I was used to it.

  But I was beyond tired of it.

  I picked up the remote and flipped on the TV, wondering what mindless drivel might be on. Life, I mused, would be so much easier if it all followed a script, like a made-for-TV movie. Even mine would be better, I was sure. Girl meets guy, they get engaged, guy dies very suddenly and very tragically, leaving girl alone and heartbroken. Girl cries until the next commercial break and then gets into an elevator, where, Oh! She meets the man she’s really been destined for all along, and they live happily ever after.

  Surely the writers would recognize the cruelty of leaving the sad woman alone to live out her days, loveless and hopeless. No one would want to watch a movie like that, so they wouldn’t leave it that way. They’d give her someone new to fall in love with.

  So who was going to be my someone new, I wondered. Would I even have a someone new?

  I slumped over sideways on the couch, completely unmotivated to get up and change out of my dress and into my pajamas. The channels flicked by on the screen as I pressed buttons disinterestedly on the remote, finally stopping on one of those reality shows about house-hunting.

  Ah, another thing to think about and keep myself awake, I thought bitterly.

  Maybe Ursula had the right idea with all those martinis.

  The happy couple on the show were walking around in a second-floor walk-up on the Upper West Side of New York, commenting on all the space in the closets and kitchen area. Things that I really didn’t want to have to think about right now. Things that I hadn’t thought I’d have to think about ever again as a single woman.

  Reality, as they say, is harsh. And reality was that there were roughly only six months left until Neil came home from his deployment, at which point I would be left with no place to live. I was going to have to face reality eventually, and I didn’t have a choice in the matter. There had been a lot of things over the past year that I hadn’t exactly had a choice in deciding.

  Sometimes life just doesn’t give you a choice—the best you can do is try to handle it gracefully and make sure you have enough closet space. At least then you’ll have a place to hide when it all gets to be too much to handle.

  I woke the next morning with a stiff neck and sticky contacts, having fallen asleep on the couch, still fully-clothed and made-up. My dress was rumpled, my hair was disheveled, and I had a serious case of raccoon eyes. Given the choice, I wouldn’t have answered the door, but the insistent pounding didn’t give me much of one.

  This was getting to be a really annoying trend. Why did people seem to love waking me up this way? Maybe it was something about this house. Did Neil have an unending stream of visitors who pounded on his door like they were the angry villagers storming the castle, or was I special?

  I was so flustered that I didn’t even remember to peer through the peephole. Perhaps not the wisest move, but I didn’t really have all my faculties in order yet. Anyone who caught a glimpse of me would have known that in an instant.

  “Whoo-hoo, get a load of you,” Ray laughed, standing on the stoop with his arm around Kate. “You look ready to do the walk of shame.”

  I didn’t even bother to give him a dirty look. I pulled both of them in for a hug, momentarily forgetting that I hadn’t gotten to brush my teeth before falling asleep the night before. Not that it really mattered. I was too excited to care, and they were too distracted to pay attention.

  “Come in, come in, and tell me everything. I want to hear all of it,” I said, tugging them into the house and shutting the door behind them. “In greater detail than that little bit you gave me on the phone the other day. Spill,” I commanded.

  Ray and Kate flopped comfortably on the couch, still entwined and looking like children at Christmas. I took a seat on the coffee table so that I could be close and look at them both directly as they told me their news.

  “Well,” Kate began, her eyes shining with excitement as she looked from Ray to me and back again. I’d never seen her look so happy, and it warmed me all the way down to my toes. “You know most of it already, I think, but Ray completely surprised me by showing up in Atlanta. I didn’t even know he was coming; and then there he was, on my doorstep and looking completely lost.”

  “I’ve never been to Atlanta before,” he interjected. “And it was early. I had a morning flight, and I was operating on very little sleep and very few functioning brain cells.”

  Kate smiled at him fondly, then continued. “Anyway. So I called in sick to work, and we went out to breakfast; and then he just insisted on taking me for a walk downtown to see everything. We went past Ikea, and he looks at me and says, ‘So we should probably start looking at furniture.’” Her voice deepened in an attempt to sound masculine. “I had kind of an idea of what he was hinting at, but I decided to play dumb and make him ask like a proper gentleman.”

  “I was going to,” Ray protested, poking her in the rib cage.

  Kate laughed and wiggled away from him on the couch. “Stop interrupting me, I’m trying to tell her the story,” she pouted playfully.

  “But it’s my story, too,” he crooned, smiling at her. He was enjoying this.

  And so was I. I was watching the whole exchange with a fascination I’d never expected.

  “You two are already arguing like married people,” I said with a chuckle. “Now get on with it, I wanna know what happened next!”

  “Okay, okay,” Kate laughed. She shot Ray a look that said, I love you, but sit there and shut up. Apparently, he read the look loud and clear. He chewed his bottom lip and looked sheepishly at his lap, smoothing the flap on one of his many pants pockets.

  “Where was I? Oh, yeah.” Kate leaned forward and scooted her butt to the front of the couch. “So we’re standing there in front of Ikea, and this out-of-nowhere comment is just hanging in the air. And then he says,” she cleared her throat and blinked rapidly, her face breaking out into a broad grin at the memory. She looked as though she was fighting off laughter. “‘Kate, will you make me the happiest man in the world and help me pick out a coffee table?’” Her voice squeaked and she collapsed into a fit of giggles. “It was insane.”

  Ray just looked at her and flushed so deeply that even his ears were glowing. Kate was laughing so hard I thought she was going to fall off the couch, and I sat looking from one to the other, unsure of what to do. Clueless as I was, I was trying really hard not to laugh along with Kate. At least, not until I knew I was allowed. I looked back at Ray, who was still red-faced and shaking his head in mortification.

  “That’s not the way I meant it to come out,” he said with a tone that pleaded for sympathy.

  I coughed into my fist, earning me a dirty look from Ray, while Kate continued to shake with uncontrollable glee.

  She finally stopped laughing, sucking in big gulps of air and flapping her hands in front of her face. “Oh, ooh, boy,” she hooted, wiping tears from the corners of her eyes and smudging her mascara. “Uh. Yes, sweetie, I know. It’s not how you meant it to come out,” she cooed at Ray, patting his leg. She turned back to me and smiled. “Ray is nothing if not eloquent,” she snickered.

  I realized I was grinning when I caught Ray scowling at me, at which point I pulled an appropriately solemn expression.

  After a silence thick with unreleased laughter, Kate resumed her narration. “He got so flustered that he almost just gave up. He turned bright red, just like he is now; and he started walking away from me, down the street.”

  “I felt like an idiot, so I really didn’t know what else to do. I didn’t think that there was going to be any way to redeem that one,” he explained.

  I nodded solemnly in understanding.

  “So I ran after him and told him he would have to be more specific in wh
at he was looking for if he wanted me to help him pick out something as important as a coffee table.”

  “By that time, I’d had an uncharacteristic stroke of genius and figured out exactly what to say, and I said—” Ray was interrupted by Kate, who’d clapped her hand over his mouth so that she could have the satisfaction of finishing the story.

  “And he said,” Kate’s eyes sparkled with triumph, “‘I want something that will hold a million silly knickknacks and family photos from the thousands of memories that we make together, if you’ll do me the very great honor of being my wife.’” The triumphant gleam in her eye had been replaced by the shimmering of tears, and her voice was hushed.

  My own tears were lazily trickling down my unwashed cheeks as I looked at my two best friends, so very much in love and so looking forward to a life together. I smiled and realized that the happiness I was feeling for them was completely untainted by sadness for myself. It was silly, but the realization made me feel liberated.

  To: Neil Epstein

  From: Zoë Trent

  Subject: Is your Inbox full yet?

  Dear Neil,

  Thank you for your advice on my meeting with Sam. I can’t tell you how much it’s helped, having your input. Most of the people in my life are too closely tied to the entire situation and would gladly volunteer to beat him senseless. I have a feeling that Ray might have offered up the services of one of his many “people.” So thank you again for your encouragement and guidance.

  The weather these days could only be defined as schizophrenic. It’s up one day and down the next without any real direction, and it makes dressing everyday a challenge. I go out to my car in the morning and practically turn into a popsicle, but things are warmed up to shorts weather by the time lunch rolls around. It’s insane! But you’ve lived here long enough that I’m sure you know all about that. How long have you lived here, anyway?

  On a totally random note, I went to a work banquet thing last night and found out that my boss had been fired, right there at the restaurant. The whole situation was extremely awkward, especially since she’d set me up with her cousin. The blind date thing never really got off the ground, though, because he had to take her home about five minutes after he got there, she was so drunk. He gave me his card and told me to call him sometime. Call me old-fashioned, but I’m not really used to the whole calling first thing. I’m the woman, and I don’t think it’s really my job to have to make the first move. Besides, I’m not even really sure I’m ready to hit the dating scene yet. It’s only been a year since Paul died—is that too soon?

  Well, I’ve probably overwhelmed you with things to read, so I’m going to close and give your brain a break. I hope things are well with you!

  Zoë

  Chapter 15

  I stared up at the ceiling, eyes unfocused on the popcorn that was blurring together under my unblinking gaze.

  I had a choice in this, I really did. It was one I’d held off on making, this whole time that Paul had been gone. There was money, sitting, just waiting for me to decide what I was going to do with it.

  For some reason, it scared me. The mere idea of it was almost unsettling. To use it would be admitting Paul was truly gone. Not that I didn’t really know that already, not that I was denying it, by any means—but it was still one more thing to add weight. And then there was the burden of responsibility I felt in making sure I used that money properly, that I didn’t make a decision with it that proved to be a mistake.

  I hated to make mistakes, hated to fail.

  It wasn’t a lot of money—the life insurance policy Paul had taken out on himself hadn’t been huge—but it was big enough that it would have covered my current salary for two years.

  Two whole years.

  But what would I do? What did I want to do? It had been so long since I’d given it any thought that I really wasn’t sure what I would do if I’d ever been given the chance.

  What did I want to be when I grew up?

  I stared at the ceiling some more.

  What was I good at, really? What would I be able to do that I could make into a business? That was the big question, wasn’t it?

  And who was to say that this was really the wisest thing to do? I’d always had a fallback plan, and this would leave me without one. If I quit my job, I would have to make it on my own, and I had no guarantee of a paycheck in that. I’d never left a job without having another one lined up, another sure thing.

  This would be far from a sure thing.

  But maybe it was time for me to step outside of the sure things. The sad little abandoned storefront flashed in my mind, its graffiti message blazing across my eyes like an afterimage.

  Live with intent.

  I picked up the phone.

  “Kate?” I said when she answered.

  “Hey, Zoë, I was just thinking about you.” Her voice sounded clear and close, despite the miles.

  “You were?”

  “Yup, I were.”

  “Let me guess. You were thinking you wish you were still here so that you and I could rent a bunch of chick flicks and have a marathon movie session complete with much wine and sushi,” I supplied, closing my eyes and smiling at the idea.

  Kate had only left a couple of days ago, but it still felt like an eternity had passed already. She’d had a whirlwind trip in and out of town, gone again before we’d gotten to spend much time together. There had been so much to tell her, so much that I’d wanted to say, while she was here, face to face; but I hadn’t had the chance.

  It was indescribable, sometimes, how much I missed her. How much I wished she was there the way she had once been, within arm’s reach whenever I needed her. She seemed so far away now. Everyone seemed so far away.

  Kate laughed, and I could envision her on the other end of the line, tossing her thick blonde hair back. I’d always envied that hair, ever since we were little. I realized I was fingering my own curls, frizzed out from the humidity of the day.

  “Wow, does that sound good right now,” Kate said, breaking into my thoughts. “I’ve missed you. Terribly,” she finished, echoing my own unspoken sentiments.

  “Glad to hear it,” I said, grinning. “I miss you too, you have no idea. But that’s not actually why I’m calling.”

  “Oh?” I could hear the curiosity in her voice.

  “I need your advice on something, if you have a minute.”

  “For you, my love, I always have a minute,” Kate replied without hesitation.

  “I think I should quit my job,” I blurted, before I could lose my nerve.

  “Yes.”

  “Yes?” I could have been knocked over by a feather, I was so surprised. “No, ‘Have you thought this through, Zoë?’ No, ‘Have you got another job, Zoë?’ Just, ‘Yes?’”

  “Yes.”

  “I’m going to assume from your response that you’ve been thinking this is something I should have done for a while now?” I ventured.

  “Yes.”

  “Kate?”

  “Yes?”

  “Stop saying that!” I shrieked.

  “Okay, so then tell me what you’re wanting to do instead. You’ve obviously been thinking about this—and probably over-thinking it, knowing you—rather than just making some snap decision because you’re having a bad day at the office. That’s not something you do, Zoë. So tell me. What’s the plan?” she prompted.

  I shifted on the couch, pulling my legs up under me in an attempt to get a little more comfortable. I picked at a stray thread on the cushion beside me, wondering if Kate would be able to help me clarify the muddle of ideas swirling around in my head.

  “Well,” I began, feeling my lack of certainty sink a little heavier. “I think I want to open a store. I found a great place for it and everything.”

  “So what’s the problem?” Kate asked reasonably.

  “I don’t know what kind of store I want to open.”

  There was laughter on the other end of the phone.

 
“Is that all?” she asked, as though it was the most obvious thing in the world. “Zoë, you’ve always had a great eye for fashion and make-up. You can put stuff together in your sleep, and you’re always reading all of those glossy fashion magazines. Work with that, sweetie. Do what you know and what you love,” she said simply.

  I smiled. This was getting exciting.

  There was still adventure to be found in my life, even without Paul—and I was finally starting to see it.

  Kate wasn’t the only advocate of my leaving my job to open my own store.

  Ray joined my parents in supporting my decision one hundred percent, and my parents were even offering to give me a loan so that I would have some start-up money to fund and outfit my new store. I was still in deep consideration when it came to the whole idea of borrowing money from family, but I was leaning toward accepting. It would eliminate the need to apply for a bank loan, plus I wouldn’t have to worry about interest rates. Sure, I could assert my independence by insisting on getting an actual, official loan; but this wasn’t really about pride. This was about doing something with my life that made me feel like I was really, truly fulfilled. The money wasn’t a handout—I made it perfectly clear that that would not be acceptable. It was a loan, and I would pay it back in monthly installments.

  The idea was looking better and better all the time.

  So now the next steps would be to put in my notice at work, buy the building, revamp it in any ways necessary, get all my permits, and stock the store.

  Lots to do, and most of it was completely foreign to me. I had no idea how to open a store and what paperwork was involved, but I was determined.

  This was going to happen.

  I needed this to happen, needed it to succeed. Otherwise, I would have to go crawling back to my boss and beg for my old job. Not that he would have a problem with that, but I would.