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“What’s wrong?” she asked hesitantly.
“So, I got a room,” he explained. “My cohost, Tiffany, offered me a room in her apartment.”
“Ryan, whatever.”
“I came all the way home last night and packed up my apartment and drove back into the city. But when I got to her place, Lisa, it was a pigsty. I didn’t want to touch anything. It was so bad. So I packed up my car and will move back to my apartment tonight. I’ll just have to commute.”
“I’m sorry, Ryan. Ugh.”
“I realized you ruined it for me. You’re so neat and organized, I can’t accept anything less.”
“It’s good you have standards! And if you wanted to see your kids, it couldn’t be there, could it?”
“No. I wouldn’t bring a dog to that place. It took three trips with the luggage carrier to empty the trash bags she’d stored up. I have goosebumps just thinking about it.”
Lisa didn’t reply, snickering.
“Anyway, I wanted to tell you how much I appreciate the nice house you kept for our family.”
“I hope you can get some of your enthusiasm back, Ryan. Did you sleep last night?” Lisa asked.
“No.”
“Well, never make a decision when you’re sleep deprived and hungry.”
“I’m starving,” he moaned.
“Get a bagel and coffee.”
“I will. My favorite vendor is right on the corner. Thank you for listening, Lisa.”
“You’re welcome,” she replied. “Try to have a nice day.”
“I will. You, too.”
He didn’t add,I’m full of doubts now. Why did I ever leave you and my peaceful life? I didn’t know what chaos was.
Ending the call, he looked through the windshield at the few cars there in the early morning. Depression crept in. Sunlight would definitely help. He locked up, covering his suitcases with the sheet that he’d laid on at Tiffany’s.
Out on the street, the vendors were just setting up in the freezing cold. Ryan got a regular coffee and a bagel with butter, his old standby. Leaning against the truck, he contemplated his next move. No one else would be inside at the hour. He could take his food and sit at his desk, looking over the script Tiffany had proudly shown him yesterday. The first read-through would highlight weaknesses that Ryan wanted to change, but he had learned that it was better to adlib than try to make changes directly to the author’s words.
During their rehearsal that day, he’d do what he wanted rather than debate with Tiffany about changing it.
After eating the bagel, he laid pages of Tiffany’s storyboard out on the table in front of him, making notes. The sounds of the office coming alive filtered into the conference room where he sat.
The receptionist stuck her head in the door. “I wondered who put the lights on. Good morning!”
Peter arrived next, grumbling a hello as he passed the conference room door. The salespeople as a group came in to congratulate Ryan on his return, calling him a “chip off the old block.”
None of them had known Jack, but they had heard enough about him from the old-timers.
Finally, a contrite Tiffany came in, decidedly different from the self-confident woman he’d met the day before. From the doorway, Ryan watched her unpack her bags, shoving bottles and food containers into the fridge in the lounge refrigerator, then go into her office before returning to the conference room, where they’d do a live reading before getting in front of the cameras.
“I’m sorry about last night,” she said, starting right in. “It’s better to get it out so we can move on.”
“It’s fine, Tiffany. All’s well. We’re here at work. Let’s do it!”
“So, you’re definitely not moving in?”
