“I know, Haze. It’s just…easier this way. If for no other reason than I don’t have to see his face. Hold on, let me text him back.”
I take a deep breath to calm my nerves as I type a message to him.
Todd was the kind of guy who had to have a clean kitchen before going to bed every night. If he woke up and there were dishes in the sink, it would ruin his day. He hated it if my clothes were anywhere other than a drawer, hamper, or hanger. He was never mean about any of it, but he would sigh deeply and sometimes roll his eyes. Todd had preferences and peculiarities, and it was always just easier to do things his way.
Abby: heyyy, I am so so sorry. I didn’t get a chance to and I’m out of town now. Work has been a nightmare and I’ve had a migraine every weekend. I really did try to get it to you, but I swear I’ll send it the day I get back. SO SO sorry.
I only delete and retype it four times before sending it, trying and failing to ignore the way my chest feels too tight. I hate inconveniencing other people. And I know Todd is going to read my text and do that deep sigh he always did. I’m just glad I don’t have to be around to witness it. It always made me feel so small.
T: k.
My stomach clenches; my ribs constrict around me. There it is. Knowing I’ve disappointed someone, that I’ve made their life harder because I couldn’t follow through on this one simple thing.
“Okay, sorry,” I say to Hazel.
“Listen to me, now that you’ve done that and it’s off your plate, don’t think about it again. I want you to go put on that sexy red bikini and sit by the pool with a drink and a book. And don’t give that dumb ex of yours another thought, okay?”
Hazel makes me promise I’ll do exactly that before she lets me hang up the phone, and I break my promise immediately by lying back on the bed, dropping my phone, and staring up at the ceiling. The fan twirls in lazy circles, and I let myself be hypnotized by it for a time. Maybe it will rewire my brain, and I can actually relax a little bit. Maybe I’ll relax so much that the idea of going back to teaching doesn’t feel so terrible. Maybe it will hypnotize me into believing that I don’t have to make myself small with Todd or anyone else ever again.
The fan does none of these things, and I finally sit up, looking around at the lap of luxury. It seems silly to feel so defeated in a place so beautiful. Maybe I should take Hazel’s advice and go to the pool.
I pack my pool bag with my e-reader, sunscreen, and a towel from the bathroom and stand in front of the mirror. I look tired, run down, and I feel like a girl wearing a costume, not a grown woman on a vacation. Maybe that feeling will go away once I’mat the pool, or maybe I’ll be spending the next nine days fighting with myself and the demons I brought with me on this trip.
I guess there’s only one way to find out.
2
MILES
This guy is such an asshole.
And I’m allowed to say that because I’ve known him for ten years and I’m also an asshole, so it’s not so much an insult as it is a statement of fact.
Doug is a good buddy of mine. And a really frustrating client.
“Listen, I know you just got the cabinets in there, but Marissa wants them to be white.”
Marissa and Doug have been together longer than Doug and I have known each other, and she’s exactly the woman now that she was when I first met her: high maintenance as hell.
“You guys requested sage, like, twelve times. We picked out a color together, literally, in the store. Two hours looking at paint swatches. I never do that with clients.”
I’d only made an exception because Marissa had already rejected multiple color proposals, and a trip to the store was less work than going back and forth over email.
“I’m sorry, man. The lady gets what the lady wants.”
The client gets what the client wants, I remind myself.
“It’s not a problem; we’ll make it work. Another beer?” He shakes his head.
This exact scenario is why I stopped taking friends as clients. Things get weird when you mix business and friendship. When I was starting out in the construction industry, I dreamed of the days I could have my own clients, set my own schedule, stop working as labor on shitty construction jobs. Things got better when I got promoted to foreman, and things were really good when I quit all of that and started my own contracting company. Getting out of general labor and into management was a better fit for me. When I started, I needed all the clients I could get, and most of my clients were my former NHL buddies. But it’s been a few years now, and I can be pickier with my clients, take on the projects I really want to.
Is this my ideal project? Not really.
But I used to play hockey with him, and it was hard to say no to a former client—or to a project in Cabo. It’s a nice change of pace, almost like a vacation, which I never take.
“Timeline is going to have to extend more for that and for the countertops. I got the marble ordered, but there’s only one guy in the area who cuts marble custom and he’s got a sick kid, so he’s out of commission for a few days,” I say.
Doug waves his hand, dismissing me. He doesn’t seem to care about the timeline, and unfortunately they don’t seem to care that every delay costs them more money. But I guess when you have that kind of money, you don’t have to care about much.
