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“What’s the plan boss?” I ask.
“I was thinking we could start with this,” she holds up one box, “then this one after dinner.” She places the second box down and then grabs two others, “and maybe one of these if we’re up for it?”
I give her a look. “I’m already tired.”
She rolls her eyes. “So dramatic,” she mumbles, walking away.
I blow her a kiss and walk toward the couch to sit down. I tuck my feet under my legs and get comfy waiting for everyone else to settle it.
“Drink, An?” Maddie’s calls from the kitchen.
“Yeah, just water,” I answer. I hear Maddie talking in the kitchen for a moment before David walks into the living room holding a glass of water and beer in the other hand.
He extends the water towards me with a smile. I accept it, smiling, and say, “Thank you.”
He sits on the couch next to me, leaving several feet of space between us.
“How has work been?” he asks, even though he basically already knows since we’ve texted about our days.
“Good.” I smile.
“Good.” He smiles back.
While conversation between us can usually flow so naturally and effortlessly, there is still this underlying feeling of uncharted territory. Of uncertainty and fear. We’ve decided to be friends. I can now call him my friend instead of just Maddie and Elliot's friend. But I also know that he likes me more than that, and one day I could potentially like him more than that too. But most days that weight of guilt in my gut is heavier than the flittering voice of hope in my head.
I can see how easy it would be to fall for David. But when I allow myself to even think of that possibility, of trying to picture my future with him…I can’t. I know he would be a caring and loving partner, and I know he would be the kind of partner to push and challenge me when I need it most. I can see him being the kind of partner that puts my needs above his own. I see that when I look at him. But when I try to think of my future, I can’t anymore.
Plans and dreams for my future died with Hayden. I stopped picturing things, hoping for things. It was Hayden’s face I would see each day, his hand I would hold. I saw us building a life together, even though we didn’t exactly know what that looked like at times or how it would pan out. But I saw Hayden.
Now, when I think of the future, I see my budget meeting for tomorrow. My project proposal due next Friday. I think of helping out at Maddie and Elliot’s house of horrors again since I’ve been avoiding it for so long and I promised Maddie I would come this weekend. My future consists of small goals and manageable expectations. I can’t allow myself to dream, and wish, and hope. Because when all of those things died, I almost died along with them.
I shake my head to clear my thoughts and find David watching me, as if he knows where I just went in my mind. But he doesn’t look annoyed, he looks understanding. Kind. Wishful, almost. Like he just wants to know all of these thoughts in my head or at least have me share them all with him. But I worry that if I share all of my thoughts with him, he’ll see what a broken—beyond repair—mess I am and cut his losses before anything even starts.
THIRTY-FOUR
THEN, WINTER, FOUR YEARS AGO
“We’ve been having this conversation for over a year, Hayden,” I yell.
“And I still don’t understand what the big deal is,” he argues.
We don’t argue too much, but when we do it’s usually about stupid things.
“The hamper is right there. It’s right there,” I yell, gesturing to the white laundry basket against the bedroom wall. “Why are your socks on the floor next to it?”
“I just missed,” he says loudly, arms splayed out dramatically.
“Then you bend your long ass self down, and you pick them up,” I yell. “Que vago y frustante eres!” How lazy and frustrating you are!
“Okay, that seems a bit harsh,” he says, his annoyed voice is still somehow laced in amusement. It pisses me off.
I scowl at him, bending down to pick the socks up and throw them in his face. He tries to hide his smile. I know he thinks it’s funny and cute when I get mad like this, and he always tells me that he finds me even cuter than normal when I’m all riled up. But that knowledge makes me even angrier at this moment.
“You know what, it’s beyond lazy and frustrating,” I say walking out of my bedroom that he has slowly started moving into for months. “It's intentional carelessness.”
“Oh, come on, babe.” He sighs. “This is silly.”
“Yeah, it is silly. And completely avoidable.” I turn to face him. “It’s stupid, you leave your socks and underwear next to the hamper instead of just putting them inside where they belong. But this is an argument that we have all the time. So the fact that nothing changes tells me that you don’t give a shit about what I am asking for and what I’m upset over.”
