Page 31 of The Now in Forever

M y overnight bag is packed and in the back of the car. Since my interview is in New Haven tomorrow morning at eight, I’m driving to Grandma’s to stay the night so I don’t have to roll into the interview after a two-hour drive. The sun is low in the sky, too low for the visor to be much help.

Ed left Saturday. Anh left Sunday. For two days in a row, I got to say goodbye to people I love.

No. People I care about. I mean, I love Anh, but it’s very new with Ed.

New and old. I’ve been pining for him for a decade, and here I am, doing it again.

I crank up my audiobook and try to lose myself in the story, instead of the pity party I was about to throw.

When I get to Grandma’s, the overwhelming smell of falafel fills my nose as soon as I open the squeaky screen door. Clanks from the kitchen let me know exactly where to go, if the smell hadn’t.

Grandma’s taking a tray of perfectly browned falafel from the oven, her massive oven mitt in the shape of a chicken on her hand. “Hattie Bear! You’re here!”

“Grandma, you didn’t have to go through all this trouble.”

“When’s the last time you stayed the night? Of course I’m making your favorite. You still like falafel, right?”

I smile. “Yes, thank you. ”

She gestures to a bottle of wine on the counter. “Sit, sit. Have a glass. I’m almost done.”

“I’ll just put my bag upstairs first.”

She nods and grabs a cucumber off the counter.

Each stair squeaks on the way up past framed photos hung on the wall.

There’s my eighteen-year-old face smiling ear to ear, in a shiny purple cap and gown.

Farther up is my cousin, her blonde hair in flowing curls and her husband smashing a piece of cake on her cheek on their wedding day.

At the very top of the stairs is a black and white photo, in front of this very house.

My grandpa is holding my grandma in his arms. She’s in a beautiful calf-length white dress, her leg kicked out toward the sky.

It’s their wedding day. They’re both smiling like they won the lottery.

Muscle memory takes me to the room I spent so many summers and sometimes spring breaks in. The walls are a light pink, a choice made when I was eight that stuck. The twin bed is covered in a white comforter, with a hot-pink crocheted blanket thrown on top.

I set my bag down by the desk, the cork board hanging above it filled so not one speck of the brown cork shows. Magazine photos of Idris Elba from a brief fascination I had in eighth grade with the movie Obsessed, ticket stubs, photo booth pictures of Robin, Anh, and me making funny faces.

I run my hand along one strip, faded from the afternoon sun hitting this wall. In the last picture, I’m in the middle, my cheeks smashed on either side by Anh and Robin planting kisses. We must’ve been seventeen, because Anh had what she liked to call her “fuck-it-all” pixie cut.

Another glossy magazine photo catches my eye, a bookstore in Venice, right next to my dream life list.

Own my own bookstore

Fall madly in love

Get married

Have three kids

Publish a book

A long exhale comes out in a whoosh.When I met Chad and really started to fall for him, I thought I was on my way to checking some of these off. And I did, sort of. We never fell what I’d call madly in love, but there was love. And we got married. That’s all gone now. I’m back to square one.

“Dinner’s ready!”

I make my way down. The dining room table is set with falafel, soft pita bread, hummus in a crystal bowl, and a colorful array of veggies. Grandma’s pouring a glass of red wine and hands it to me.

“This is amazing.”

“Cheers, my dear.” She clinks her glass with mine. “Hopefully, it tastes as good as it looks.”

Grandma tells me about the farm. The chickens got out the other day and got into the raspberries. The neighbor about a mile away had a family of barn swallows trying to nest on their property. They had to shoo them away.

“Why? Why couldn’t they let them live there?”

“Oh, Bear, they are so loud, all the time, too. And they poop everywhere!”

When dinner’s over, I insist on doing the dishes, but Grandma insists on helping. Together, we get through them quickly and then take our wine to the porch.

It feels wrong to sit in Grandpa’s chair but rude not to. When he was alive, I used to love to steal his spot. He’d come out and poke me in the ribs. We thought the whole thing was so funny.

Grandma notices my hesitation. “Sit wherever you feel comfortable, dear.”

I give her hand a small squeeze and take my usual perch on the steps.

“So, tell me about this interview?”

“I’d be teaching English still. It’s down the hill at Nelson Middle School.”

Grandma’s lips twitch the smallest bit into a frown. “Middle school?”

“Yep.” I run my hand along the edge of the step, the rough texture a nice distraction .

“Hmm. Didn’t you say that you’d rather teach preschool than middle school?”

I shrug. “I say a lot of things.”

She nods, gazing into the fields surrounding us, the sky dimming to a deep blue.

“I’m surprised you want to live here.”

“Not here in this house. I’d find a place in town, maybe somewhere in Old Town.”

She purses her lips. “And you’d be happy here? Teaching middle school?”

“It’d be nice to be close to you.”

Her eyes close, her frown there in full force now. “I’ve been thinking about moving, actually.”

“Moving?” She’s lived here my whole life.

“It’s a big job for just me. The neighbor kid comes over to help sometimes, but he’s headed off to college in the fall.

” She sighs. “Honestly, this place was your grandfather’s.

I lived here because he loved it. Uncle Rob invited me to visit him last spring in Hermosa Beach.

It was so nice. Warm, less rain, no snow.

If I sell this place, I could get a condo near the beach.

There’re a few places available by Rob. You know, he swims in the ocean every day. ”

I set my wine down, struggling to keep up. “You're going to swim in the ocean?”

She laughs. “Probably not, but it would be nice to have the option.”

“You could swim here—drive out to the bay.”

“Too cold.”

“It’s probably cold there, too.”

She lets out a sigh. “This house is so empty without him.”

Her words permeate my skin with the chilling night air.

“Grandma…”

She waves a hand at me. “I’m lucky. We had so many years together.

I’m not set on this idea—just thoughts.” She rises from her chair and comes to sit next to me on the stairs with the smallest hint of a wince.

“What I’m trying to say is I don’t want you to move here for me.

You should move someplace that gets you excited.

You should look for a job that makes those baby blues of yours light up with life. Don’t settle. You’re too young.”

I open my mouth to protest, but what would I say? She’s right, as usual. I don’t want to teach middle school. I don’t want to move to New Haven.

She puts a hand on my shoulder as she stands. “You’ve had enough of my sage advice. I’m going to bed.”

“Maybe it would feel better, more like home, if I lived close?”

Her eyes flash, like a wave of sadness washes over them. “Maybe. Goodnight, Hattie Bear.”

The next morning, I go for a run, one of my old routes through the fields, mulling over what Grandma said the night before. I thought about texting Ed last night, but I wasn’t sure what to say.

Once I’m showered and dressed in a white shirt, light-blue sweater, and denim skirt, I head out to the interview.

After a quick drive, I’m at the school. The yellow concrete walls are in need of a fresh coat of paint.

On my walk to the office, I pass a massive field torn up with muddy tire tracks, and a queasiness settles in my gut.

I should’ve canceled. This is not the place for me.

The office is stuffy, despite the cooler morning.

The woman who greets me has long blonde hair, signs me in, and shows me where I can sit while I wait.

It’s just the two of us in the office, listening as the radio plays country music.

My appointment was for eight a.m. I got here at 7:56, and it’s now 8:19.

I pull out my phone and scroll to my kindle app. As I’m reading, a text notification from Ed appears. My stomach flutters as I imagine what the text could be. Maybe a good luck or an I miss you.

As I click, the screen comes to life with a soft-lit photo of Ed’s washboard stomach, his black and gray–striped boxers barely concealing a substantial bulge.

My cheeks flame .

“Ms. Stevens.”

I’m so startled, I drop my phone.

A man in a blue polo shirt with the school logo on the chest is smiling, reaching down to help pick up my phone.

“No!” I dive and grab it right before he does. Standing, I shoved the phone into my purse and then pull down my skirt a little. “I mean, yes. That’s me.”

The man’s eyes narrow. “Right this way. Sorry I was late. Had to call maintenance. Someone did donuts all over the field last night,” he says with a chuckle.

I smile, my cheeks still warm from my potential new employer seeing my boyfriend’s morning wood. If he’s even my boyfriend.

The interview is quick and to the point. Despite not being all that excited for the position itself, my overachieving, people-pleasing nature kicks in, and I walk back to my car nearly an hour later, confident I just aced an interview for a job I don’t want.

I start the car, plug in my phone, and turn on my audiobook to drown out my own thoughts. A text comes in, and I have Siri read it to me as I head back to Grandma’s.

“Kyle says: Hey, got the keys to the bookstore. Any chance you’re free today? It’d have to be before my shift starts at two p.m.”

My heart sparkles like someone just dusted it with glitter. I check the time. It’s nearly eleven now. If I grab my stuff from Grandma’s quickly, I could be back in Fortune Falls a little after one p.m.

I hit Reply . “Does one p.m. work?”