Total pages in book: 62
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 60931 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 305(@200wpm)___ 244(@250wpm)___ 203(@300wpm)
“Ideal? What do you consider ideal?”
“That’s probably not the right word. Maybe less than typical?”
“What do you consider a typical reaction to divorce?”
Here we go. I still can’t say the right fucking word.
“So you’re with an advertising firm. Do you like your job?”
Anna eyes me. If it takes her a few seconds to catch on to my change in subject, so be it. I’m not going down the same road with her.
Realization blooms in her cheeks. It’s different. It’s nice, I think.
“I’m sorry. It’s the medication. I don’t mean to interrogate you. It sounds like your dad’s having a rough time. I’m sorry to hear that.”
Where was this Anna three years ago? Oh, that’s right. She was following her passion, and I was crushing her dreams like popping bubble wrap.
“When my parents had to live together without the distraction of work, my mom realized she had nothing to say to him. More than that, she decided she wanted to feel passion again. She’s sixty-two. Is that too old to feel passion?” I lift a shoulder. “Who am I to say? All I know is that my dad didn’t fight for her. He said he was ‘too damn old and tired to chase ass.’”
Anna cringes.
“Yup. I can’t imagine where I get my gift with words.”
She bites her lips together.
“Clearly, he wasn’t too old and tired to act like an ass.”
Anna giggles. Her laughter still hits me in the feels. It’s still my favorite sound.
“So she filed for divorce. And they stayed living together until the divorce was final. He seemed normal. Amicable with her. Nearly unaffected around me. He golfed with friends. Occasionally fished. Everything seemed good. Then the moving crew arrived to pack and load things into the truck. And, uh …” I still can’t say it without laughing. I love my dad, but I have no idea how he missed this. “He thought she was the one moving out. When he ignored the crew, holing up in his office, Mom had to instruct them as to which things were his and needed to be packed. He snapped when she opened his office door to tell him they were ready to take his desk and pack his books. Then he got arrested. Then he moved in with me after I bailed him out of jail, and Mom got a restraining order against him. Good times.”
Anna covers her mouth.
“I know. There is no good response to that story.”
She clears her throat. “How is he now?”
“It’s all relative, so I’d say he’s better. But I’ll know more when I get home. This is the first time I’ve left him with nothing more than the neighbors checking in on him. He has little enthusiasm for life but no longer has a penchant for death, so I’m calling it progress.”
“I … I don’t know what to say.”
“Nothing. There is nothing to say. But really, tell me about your job.”
And why did you stop writing? Was it my fault? Did I crush your dreams?
“I love my job. And I’m good at it. My boss is super chill. I have a great team. There’s a lot of room for advancement. It’s possibly the perfect job for someone with my skills. It’s the dream job I imagined when I graduated from college.”
I can’t stop reading into every word, every tiny shift in her facial expressions. She’s good at her job. Is she implying she wasn’t good at writing? I can’t imagine why she’d think that.
Because I’m an asshole.
“What about you? Do you like your job?”
I chuckle. “Yeah. It’s fine. Admittedly, I’m still trying to figure out what I want to be when I grow up.”
She smiles. It’s kind and genuine. “How’s that going?”
“Not so good. I keep coming to the same conclusion.”
“What’s that?”
I rub the back of my neck. “I don’t want to grow up.”
A burst of laughter fills the room, making me feel warm and comforted.
“I can’t help it,” I say, feeling embarrassed. “I’m not motivated by work. I don’t mind it. I do it because it’s necessary. And my friends work, so it’s a great way to pass the time until …”
She snorts. “Until your friends can play?”
I return a guilty shrug. “Nothing beats a good climbing trip to Utah or Colorado. Mountain biking. Snowboarding. Concerts. If I can find a sitter for my dad, I’m always up for an adventure.”
“Adulting is overrated. So is finding a sitter, I imagine.”
“True on both accounts. But some of my friends are real adults now with marriage certificates and tiny humans destroying their houses. So I’m not the only one who has to find a sitter before heading out of town. The difference is that I can’t hire the college girl down the street to stay with my dad.”
“No?”
I shake my head. “My dad has hobbies that might offend other people, especially young women.”