That morning has yet to arrive.
TJ: You said you moved here for work?
Sigh.I’d better get this over with.
Me: Yes, I work for my grandfather’s company.I’m 4th gen.We’re opening up a new satellite office in Sharon.My official title is "South Regional Director," but I think that just means I get to handle all the bullshit.
Me: Do you still have practice even though it’s Labor Day?
I figure if I change the subject, maybe I can avoid the word sewage.I’ve already embarrassed myself enough in front of this man.Talking about my job will only send things down the drain, quite literally.
TJ: If it’s in season, we’re practicing.A slightly smaller workout, so a few free hours today.Whoopie.
Me: What are you going to do with all your spare time?Also, trying to wrap my brain around the fact that a "slightly smaller" workout gives you hours.My body is sore just thinking about it.
TJ: Cookout at my parents.
A cookout.That must be nice.Gramps and Uncle Robert were usually on call on weekends, and there always seemed to be some sewer emergency, so we didn’t have many of those growing up.
Me: With hot dogs and hamburgers and potato salad salmonella and everything?
TJ: 100%, which is why I steer clear of anything with mayo.
I’m trying to think of something witty to say that doesn’t involve a bodily function when the next text comes in.
TJ: Wanna come with me?
This has me jumping to my feet.What?Why?How?I don’t understand what’s happening.With shaking hands that drop my phone not once but twice, I send my reply.
Me: Did you mean to send that to me?I’m Rachel Cramer.You know, the girl you thought was stalking you.The girl who spilled your smoothie on you.
TJ: Dammit, I thought I was sending this to the girl who started to get frisky patting my junk in public.
My face burns.I still can’t believe I touched himthere.What the hell was I thinking?
Me: She sounds like a piece of work.She also wants to know what she should bring, because her grandmother raised her never to show up anywhere empty-handed.
That’s true.Gram is as old-fashioned as they come.Homemade apple pies, chocolate chip cookies (the Toll House recipe, naturally), and Italian Jeannettes were her specialty.Since I have neither the time nor the ingredients to whip any of those up, I’m going to have to resort to plan B.
TJ: Ma will just be so happy that I didn’t scare you off with my antics.Don’t worry about it.
Me: I’m going to worry about it, so at least give me time to run and grab something from Stop & Shop.Or better yet, Fresh Market.Their baked goods are better.
TJ: Seriously, you don’t need anything.
I don’t think this man understands that I can’t just show up with nothing.As it is, it’s going to be uncomfortable enough that I’m going.
Me: Text me the address and the time, and I’ll meet you there.
I have no idea what is happening.Who am I and what am I doing?This was not what I had in mind when I decided to turn over a new leaf.This is all spiraling out of control.Fast.My breathing picks up as my pulse quickens.I’m going to need to listen to a meditation app all the way there to keep me from totally freaking out.
TJ: It’s stupid for both of us to drive all the way up there.I’ll pick you up in 30.
I sigh.He’s not going to let this go."You picked a stubborn ass," I yell to the ceiling.I don’t even wait for her to not answer; I’ve got to get ready.
For the second time in three days, I’m faced with the dilemma of what to wear when going to see TJ Doyle.My clothing choices have not dramatically improved, but at least I don’t have to pretend to be athletic.It’s cooler today after the storm yesterday.Not quite fall, but you can tell summer has one foot out the door, not unlike my mom most of my life.
I pull out one of my favorite dresses, black cotton with fluttery sleeves and a tiered bottom.I wear it to the office if I have to look nice, but it’s also fine for just running errands.Of course, I throw a pair of bike shorts on underneath because Gram would have a fit if I didn’t.Flip-flops because I don’t own cute shoes.I grab the denim jacket I’ve had since 2015 in case it gets a little cold.
