“Am I okay?” I close my eyes. “I don’t know. What am I doing, Rach?”
“I… don’t know?”
“All I do is look after other people. Work in the restaurant, looking after other people. Is this what the rest of my life is going to be like? I want to go to Paris.”
“Ayla.”
“I know.” I sigh. “I’m losing it. I think seeing Carson with another woman made me question everything.” Well, truthfully, I was kind of questioning things before that. But now it seems more urgent that I do something with my life.
“Okay, sure, that’s understandable. But let’s not be hasty about things. Can you even sell the house without talking to him?”
I think about that. When we met with lawyers and worked out the separation agreement, I was unwell. I was tired andapathetic. “I think so,” I say. “I got the house. He still pays the mortgage, though, so I’d have to tell him.”
“Maybe you should talk to your lawyer before you do anything.”
“That sounds so sensible. I’m tired of being sensible.”
“Oh, Ayla.” Her voice softens.
“I’m gonna call him right now.”
“No!”
I huff. “Rachel! What harm is calling him to talk about it?”
“Maybe wait until morning?”
“Okay.” No. “I’m fine. I’ll talk to you tomorrow.”
“Do you want to do something? Have dinner? We can talk more about this.”
“Yeah. No. I’m working tomorrow night.”
“Monday?”
“Working. Hey, it’s okay. We’ll find a time next week.”
We end our call and without pause, I call Carson.
“Hi.”
“Hi. It’s Ayla.”
“I guessed that from the name on my screen.”
Smartass.
It sounds noisy where he is. Where is he? Shit, I didn’t check his schedule. “Where are you?”
“Seattle. In a sports bar watching the Packers play the Vikings.”
“Oh. Okay. Um. I wanted to tell you that I’ve decided to sell the house.”
After a beat, he says, “What?”
“I want to sell the house. For many reasons.” I wave a hand and a groan escapes me because my arm hurts. “I figured I’d have to talk to you about it.”
“Uh, well, yeah. I mean, I guess it’s your decision.”
