Rock Bottom Girl(122)

“You don’t need a hotel.” My parents would be horrified if one of their children came home and stayed in a hotel.

“Marley,” Zinnia sighed. “I’m not sleeping on a couch. I have a bad back from summiting Mount Rainier last year. And I’m not asking you to do it either. We’re too old for that.”

I clicked into the Airbnb calendar. “Look. I just checked the calendar. No one is renting the room over Thanksgiving. You and Ralph can have your old room, the kids can stay in mine, and I can stay with Jake.” I was there most nights anyway. It wouldn’t be a big deal.

“Wow. Things are really getting serious with you two, aren’t they?” she asked.

“Uh. No. We just like hanging out. Having fun.” I was majorly crushing on the man. “I’ve got some stuff already there,” I continued. Like all of my laundry and half of my cosmetics.

That didn’t define serious. Sure, we were somewhere gray and fuzzy between fake relationship and long-term fling. I was having fun and didn’t really feel up to defining it. We both knew the score though. I would be leaving after Christmas. We would part as friends. I would flit off to a new, important job somewhere exciting. And Jake would find the woman of his dreams.

I suddenly felt queasy. Like old tuna salad left out in the sun queasy.

“If you don’t mind and Jake doesn’t mind, that would simplify things greatly for me.”

“It’s not a problem. I’m excited to see you.”

“Me too. I could use some family time,” she said. Again there was a tightness in her voice, and I knew there was something she wasn’t telling me.

“Are you sure everything is okay?” I pressed.

“Of course. Don’t be silly,” she said brightly. “I’ve got to go. I have three meetings and an employee review standing between myself and two very nice glasses of Chardonnay. Send me your resume when you’ve drafted it, and I’ll doctor it up.”

“Thanks, Zin,” I said.

“Don’t mention it. Talk soon.”

I hung up and stared at the resume on my laptop. Physical education instructor. It was a far cry from Director of Internet Sales and Social Media Management.

My phone rang again on the kitchen counter. I saw the name on the screen and debated whether or not to answer it. It couldn’t be good news. And to be fair, I had no obligation to answer the call.

“Hello?” I said, a masochistic martyr to the end.

“Marley! Great to hear your voice again,” my old boss Brad sang into the phone. Brad never said anything without a great deal of enthusiasm. It had been annoying in normal workday conversation and had nearly caused me to commit homicide when he’d cheerfully told me the company was folding and I was out of a job and my life savings.

“Brad. What do you want?”

He laughed. Or was that a chortle? “Always straight to the point! One of my favorite things about you! Anyway, I’m calling with good news. We were able to sell the office space and some of the equipment and furniture. I’m sending you a check.”

“A check?”

“I know you invested some of your savings with us,” Brad continued.

Some? How about every dime?

“Anyway, it’s not everything you invested, but it’s something.”

“How much something?” I asked, closing my eyes and sending up a prayer to the goddesses of financial security.

“Just a touch over ten grand,” he said perkily.

“Ten grand,” I breathed. Ten thousand dollars would give me start-over money. I could afford a security deposit on an apartment. Maybe a bed and a couch. Pay off another piece of those loans.

A weight that had taken up residence on my chest lifted, and I took a sweet, easy breath.

“I’m sorry it can’t be more,” Brad said. “But I’m glad we were able to give something back to you.”

“Thanks, Brad. Really,” I said. And I meant it. At this point in my life, ten grand had the power to change everything.

“I’m happy it’ll help,” he said.

I gave him my mailing address and rested my forehead on the cool laminate of the countertop when we hung up.

“Ten thousand dollars,” I repeated.

It would go a lot farther here in Culpepper than Philadelphia or Baltimore or Charleston. I chewed on my lip and just for fun let myself imagine what it would be like if I decided to stay here. If I made Culpepper home again.

Would the district give me the job permanently? Was that something I’d want? Gym teacher and soccer coach. Those were not the titles I’d envisioned for myself. I’d always wanted something that started with “vice president of” or “director of.” Something that meant importance. Well-compensated importance. I wanted an office and an assistant. And weird benefits like in-office acupuncture or Sushi Tuesdays.

Didn’t I?

Jake was here. Jake was a benefit that no other job or city could match. But we weren’t serious. He wasn’t serious. He’d told me he loved me in the throes of sex and never said it again. If he meant it, he would have repeated it. It was best to stick with the plan. If I fell for the man and he moved on again…it would be the worst loss I’d ever faced. I couldn’t survive that. Could I?

My parents tumbled through the door that led to the garage, laughing and carting shopping bags. Their faces lit up when they saw me, and I remembered how happy they’d been to have me home.