Page 58 of Four Weekends and a Funeral

8:59 AM

Alison:

Who hurt you?

“Alison.”

Josh is examining me from his desk, fingers still in motion on his keyboard.

I tuck my phone behind a stack of folders. “Are you actually typing something when you do that or is it an intimidation tactic?”

“Both. I ran your vacation days by Daniella. She said it’s fine, but we have to switch around onboarding dates for you and the new hire.”

“I’m not sure yet if I’m going on the trip. Or taking the job.”

Patty pulls off her silencing headphones to interject. “She’s panicking about leveling up in her career.”

I turn to face her. “You can hear us with those on?”

“They only drown out the typing. I listen until I lose interest.”

I rub circles into my temples. “I’m not panicking, I’m trying to figure out what I want.” Ever since I told Adam about the job, I can’t get his words out of my head. Are all of my attempts to “level up” a waste if I’m not sure it’s what I want?

Once they’ve returned to their work, I pick up my phone. A text from a new number interrupts my conversation with Adam.

9:08 AM

Unknown Number:

Alison—Adam says you’re wrapping up early. Will you drop off the keys this weekend with the last of the boxes? I can’t thank you enough for all you’ve done. It means the world to us. Judy Lewis.

My heart sinks an inch.

So that’s it, then. He can’t even make it to December 1. Weeks of texts and escalating tension—culminating in a kiss that I’m definitely not obsessing over—are coming to an abrupt end, and I’m finding out from Sam’s mom.

What was he planning to do? Give me one last flirty home improvement montage before disappearing from my life forever, doomed to be a name in my contact list that wishes me a happy birthday every couple years? The thought stings like a papercut. My weekends won’t be filled with the two of us. Soon, I’ll be back to normal. An ache lurks under my ribs.

Why can’t I go with Sam’s friends to Patagonia? It’s exactly something Sam would do. What if two weeks of camping and trekking with experienced hikers is exactly the exposure therapy I need to finally embrace adventure? Even if it isn’t, it’ll be a perfect distraction from whatever isn’t happening with Adam. I’ll be able to talk about this trip for the rest of my life. I could authentically claim that identity as my own, like people who ran a marathon six years ago and bring it up in every conversation like it’s eternally who they are.

“Tell Kyle he’s covering me the last two weeks in January,” I blurt.

Josh blows his nose and nods, oblivious to the monumental moment he’s witnessed. I look down at my phone. For the first time in weeks, I wish I could talk to Sam, to bask in his relentless positivity and enthusiasm. All I have is a text from Adam—another man in my life doomed to be a memory.

9:09 AM

Adam:

Brown like wood, weirdo. From trees.

9:10 AM

Adam:

I like green too. Similar origins.

This is exactly what I wanted from the beginning. Clean the apartment, help Sam’s family, and move on to a bigger, more adventurous life. Get in and get out. Those plans never included an impulsive—incredible, mind-blowing—kiss with Sam’s friend.

My phone thuds to the bottom of my bag when I throw it in without responding.

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