AllFreeNovel
Share Us
She gives me another head shake, and I sip the terrible wine and sprite mixture. “You don’t understand. I don’t mean that it’s a time to figure out your career path. I already knew what I wanted to do when I went to college.” She pauses, frowning as she tries to figure out how to word her explanation.
She looks right at me, our gaze locking. “I mean that it’s the time for discovering what matters to you. Sure, I knew I wanted to work for a publishing house, but I didn’t know why I fell in love with books. I didn’t understand love or relationships. Hell, I knew nothing about the world beyond what they taught in school.”
“I figured most of that out anyway,” I say, though I wish it had been done at some coffee shop at a university instead of alone in an office late at night. I wish I’d had a few more experiences that were both real and didn’t matter.
“You know, Addison, sometimes I wonder whether any of that matters. How many people actually do anything with those discoveries? How many people marry someone because they don’t hate them, or they got knocked up rather than because they fall head-over-heels in love with them? How many people work in a career because it pays well and they’re good at it instead of because it matters to them? You can’t tell me that the people working in a factory in Chicago care about those boxes of chocolates they’re making.”
Addison frowns. “You make life sound so dreary. Like we don’t have any choices.”
My shrug is how I’ve felt for as long as I can remember. But today is different. This week has been different. “Maybe I’m wrong, and that’s just the way I’ve felt about things for a long time. Maybe I was wrong the whole time. I mean, you’re doing what you want, right? You’re working in your dream career, doing something you care about.”
Her frown turns thoughtful. “I had to do a lot of things no one expected from me to get here, Phillip. There’s a reason I know how to be poor. My childhood wasn’t filled with money and niceties. For two years, our car sat in our driveway because we couldn’t afford to get the radiator replaced. When I was nine, my mom and I exchanged Christmas cards we drew in the dark instead of presents because the electricity had been turned off and we were dead broke. No one expected me to go to college. And I did it without going into debt.
“I think you’re right about some of it, though. A lot of things are easier if you just go down the path that’s laid out in front of you. I could have worked in a farming supply store like half the town I grew up in. I could have done the same thing that my mother has, jumping from one job to the next whenever someone’s paying a dollar more an hour. But I didn’t. There’s no television here because I saved my money to move to New York instead of buying one. I have a two-dollar laptop bag instead of a thirty dollar one because I needed those twenty-eight dollars to get here. I made hard choices so I could get what I wanted. And that made all the difference.”
I can’t help but smile. “Quite the road less traveled story, isn’t it? I guess we’re both doing that to some degree.”
She grins and we both finish our drinks. “Maybe that’s the trick to it all,” I say. “Just keep your eyes onyourprize and fuck what everyone else thinks you should do.”
With a nod, she stands up. “Well Phillip, it’s getting late, and I think I need to get some sleep. I hope you enjoyed the drink that gave me so many unforgettable nights that I barely remember.”
I stand up and reply, “Maybe the next time we have them, you can tell me some of the things you do remember.”
“Sorry Phillip. You know what they say about college drinking stories.”
“That they all involve peeing in awkward places?”
She glares at me, but I can tell it’s mostly joking. “No. But also, yes. College stories are meant to be lived. Not talked about with your boss.”
“You know, that just makes me want to hear about them even more.”
“Well, keep dreaming. You’ve had your drink, and now it’s time to go to sleep. I have things to do tomorrow, and you…”
It occurs to me that I don’t actually have anything to do tomorrow. Obviously, the first thing that I think of is spending the day with Addison, but like she said, she has things to do. “I’m going to find something brand new to do.”
I catch Addison’s gaze, and as she smiles, I’m confronted by the very real fact that this has been the best day I can remember. This freedom has a time limit on it, though, and I’m going to live every day to its fullest.
“I’ll see you in the morning,” I say. When I turn toward the couch, I can feel Addison’s eyes follow me. It only makes me want to push her harder, to stop wasting time pretending that we’re not both wanting more.
But Addison isn’t the kind of woman that would take kindly to being pushed like that. My lip curls up as I begin planning the slow seduction of Addison Adelaide.
Eighteen
PHILLIP
I have never useda coffeemaker before. At least not one like the average American uses. French presses, espresso machines, and even the occasional drip coffee brewer are all options I’ve used, but Addison doesn’t have any of those. She has a… Mr. Coffee.
The apartment is silent as I walk toward the kitchen. I flip on the light and have to blink against the brightness. This shouldn’t be that hard. It’s not like I haven’t ever made coffee before.
There’s a brew button, but nothing’s in it yet. There’s a handle on the top part above the pot, and I try pulling on it. It slides out, and it looks like a massive espresso press, something I have in my office.
I grin as I fill it to the brim just like how I’d make an espresso. Now where’s the water go? There’s a tank on the back with a lid on it. Since it’s not connected to a water line, this must be the water reservoir. I pull the pot out since I don’t want it to break, and I put the whole coffeemaker in the sink and turn on the water. The water quickly rises to the top line.
I slide the now full coffeemaker back onto the counter, slide the pot back in, and hit brew. Then I say a silent prayer, hoping I haven’t done something catastrophically wrong. I don’t know why making a pot of coffee should make me feel like I’m ready to conquer the world, but it does. I know Addison will enjoy a cup of coffee she didn’t have to make, but it’s more than that. These little things are part of why I walked away from my old life.
They may not beimportantindividually, but they’re the little things that change everything. I’ll be riding the subway today instead of having my driver take me somewhere. The lack of phone calls I’m getting. The couch I slept on. And yes, the Mr. Coffee coffeemaker.
Understanding these little pieces is building the reality of this new life I’m living. I do not feel the same way that I did two weeks ago.
