Page 56 of An Introvert's Guide to Life and Love
I pick up my phone—no texts from Daniel—and search for flights to Seattle. And then I’m immediately filled with a sense of self-disgust.Come on, Mallory.
“Argh!” I slide my phone across the carpet, and it skitters into the kitchen. “Fine!”
I use the knife to remove a neat square of carpet from the far corner of the room. The knife cuts smoothly. I’m actually surprised it worked. This tiny victory eggs me on. Tentatively, I work my fingers under the edge of the carpet and pull. I have to pull harder than I thought, and then I hear it: a satisfying ripping sound as the carpet comes free from the pad underneath. A surprised whoop of laughter escapes me, before another yank sends me sprawling flat on my back.Ow.
It takes me a minute to recover—I’m pretty sure I’ll have a huge bruise on my tailbone—but then I keep tugging, pouring all my frustration into the physical task, and before I know it I’ve pulled up the carpet from the entire side wall of the living room.
My heart pounds as I stop to survey my work. I can’t believe it. It looks like this room is under construction, andIdid that.
The video I watched said to cut the carpet as you go to avoid having to roll up huge swaths of it. I cut a long line, grab the fresh roll of duct tape, and roll up my first piece of carpet.
Holy shit.I did it. Well, one-quarter of one room. And only the first step of many.But still.
I keep going, and it gets progressively harder as my muscles grow tired. By the last stretch, it takes all my mental energy to keep tearing up the old brown carpet. I think about Kat being up in my business, about losing Lottie, about Daniel not responding to my text, about Maeve being a fulfilled wife and mother while I’m alone down here in Florida sweating to the roots of my hair.
It works. The anger gives me strength. After a couple hours, I’m surrounded by four rolls of carpet, neatly duct-taped, standing on a weird beige carpet pad. If it weren’t for YouTube, I wouldn’t even know that I have to rip out the carpet pad next.
I decide that can wait until tomorrow.
One by one, I lug the carpet rolls out to the curb. Trash day is a couple days from now, so I hope the neighbors don’t mind. By the time I set the last roll down, my limbs are quivering with exhaustion. I stand in my yard, hands on my hips, gazing at the carpet rolls like a proud mother gazing at her four children. The evening air is mild and smells of salt water and grass. Cicadas chirp from somewhere nearby. My body and mind both feel deliciously loose, like I’ve just gotten out of a hot yoga class. I wonder if this is how Daniel feels after riding his bike around all day.
“Looking good, Rosen!”
I spin around.
Daniel’s hopping off his bike in the cul-de-sac. “You did all that yourself? Maybe you don’t even need me!”
“What are you doing here?”
“Didn’t you get my text?”
“No, I—well, I haven’t checked my phone in a couple hours.”
He wheels his bike over to me. “I would’ve come sooner, but I was helping out at a house showing.”
“That’s okay!” I’m glowing. Under the sheen of sweat, I feel like I’m literally glowing with delight that I couldn’t suppress if I tried. He didn’t ignore me! He came!
I try to morph my facial expression into something relatively neutral—and normal.
“I really appreciate you coming, but”—I gesture to the carpet rolls—“I think I’m done for the day. I need to rest and maybe, like, carbo-load or something.”
“Nah.” He waves my words away. “We could paint? Or have you done the carpet pads yet?”
“How do you always have so much energy? I swear I can barely lift the pliers at this point.”
He takes me by the shoulders and guides me, firmly yet gently, toward the front door. “We’ll order you a pizza, how ’bout that?”
“Pizza?” I perk up.
“I can start on the carpet pads while you carbo-load.”
I beam at him.
“See?” He laughs at the look on my face. “Are you glad you called me or what?”
Chapter 21
Twenty minutes later—one perk of small-town life: the pizza place is very close by—I’m sitting on the floor, biting into a hot, cheesy slice of spinach pesto pizza, watching as Daniel rips up a carpet pad.
