Page 12 of Friendshipped
“He hasn’t dated much lately,” I say. “And Meg’s in Pennsylvania, or maybe it’s Transylvania with those incisors of hers. You never know.”
Trevor hasn’t dated in the year since we moved back here after college. I’m not sure why.
“You and Meg,” Jayme says, shaking her head. “I’d almost say you’re jealous.”
“Nope,” I say, with too much finality, so I add, “I just want to see him well-matched. And she’s not it.”
Jayme hums again.
“He dated someone during the second semester of our junior year in college,” I tell Jayme to prove my point. “But, I’m not sure what happened. They were together for a while, but he never let me know how deeply he felt about her, and I never pressed him to share. And I wasn’t jealous at all.”
“You weren’t jealous?” Jayme presses.
“Nope,” I say. “I dated too. It was college.”
This should prove my point that we both moved on and there’s nothing to see here, folks. Nothing at all.
Sure, I haven’t dated since we’ve been back home. Life sort-of fell into a rut. Trevor and I commute a half-hour each way to work Monday through Friday. We usually pick up food or cook together when we get home. Then on the weekends we hang out with friends or go on a food assignment together.
I miss having a man hold me and kiss me, and I miss all those romantic feelings. I’m a normal twenty-two-year-old. I want someone to call my own. What I have with Trevor almost fills that space for me—aside from the fact that I still want so much more with him.
I look at Jayme, afraid my face revealed too much, but she just yawns again.
“We should get you to bed,” I say like a mom.
Jayme nods. “It’s been a long day for sure. I don’t know what I would have done without you two, and Laura and Shannon.”
“I’m glad we could be there for you. You’d do the same. I know you.”
I remind Jayme where the towels are and point out the extra blankets and pillows in the hall closet upstairs and then we both go to our own rooms.
Our talk bothers me a little bit. I’m not sure why. I’m used to people who don’t consistently hang out with us questioning me and Trevor. But this is the first time I revealed my hidden longing for something more with Trevor, even if I made it seem like a history lesson when it’s actually worthy of current front-page news.
I pull off my clothes, put on a pajama set and crawl into bed. The last thoughts I have before sleep overtakes me are images of Trevor dancing on my living room chair.
5
Lexi
When I leave to meet my sister at my parents’ home Saturday morning, Jayme tells me she’s going to take a run and a shower and then she’ll settle in with a book on her Kindle until I come back home. Trevor is right next door if she needs anything. I’m glad she’s sticking around for today. She already seems so much better now that the initial shock of Shane’s betrayal is wearing off.
I walk the five houses down to my childhood home. It’s midmorning, so there’s no doubt my sister has done yoga and probably some feat like holding a plank for five minutes, then she completed her positive mindset practice and drank some ungodly mixture of kale and seeds to keep her liver in peak condition. It’s all admirable—and a bit over-the-top.
My mom’s going through menopause which means when I enter the house, I realize I should have worn a parka even though it’s early June. The thermostat has to be set in the low sixties. Mom’s wearing a thin gauzy dress and fanning herself like a matriarch in a southern church pew when I walk in the kitchen.
“Hey Lexi girl. This …” she says, waving her hand from her head to her toes, “… is your future in bright lights”
Shoot me now.
“Sorry, Mom,” I say, walking over to kiss her cheek. “Is there anything I can do?”
“No, baby girl. There’s nothing,” she says with a shrug. “Well, maybe hug your dad. Poor man merely tried to tell me to watch out for Cooter’s pickup as I turned left out of the Kroger parking lot this morning. I read him the riot act about how many years I’ve been driving with a state-issued Ohio driver’s license and without another driver supervising my every move. It wasn’t pretty.”
Dad walks into the kitchen cautiously.
“Hey, Dad,” I say, giving him a hug and melting into his arms when he returns it.
“Hey, doodlebug. How’s one of my best girls?”
