Page 51 of When We Were Us
wrenley
Finn pickedme up this morning and we drove a few towns over for pedicures and lunch. We’re sitting on the patio of a quaint, little Mexican restaurant, shoveling in chips and guac like we’re seventeen again with zero fucks to give.
The previous night was exhausting, and when Hank had dropped me off, I went straight upstairs and changed into pajamas. It was just after nine a.m., and I’d expected to fall into bed and have sleep immediately pull me under. Instead, I’d lain awake for two hours before getting back up and tackling more of the sorting and packing.
I texted Penny, whom I’d exchanged numbers with before she left, around three in the afternoon. She had assured me that Apollo was doing fine, and I’d finally been able to get some sleep. I crashed at five p.m. and slept until just after four this morning.
Between my confusing feelings for Hank and my concern for Apollo, I needed a distraction. So, when I woke up this morning to a missed text from Finn about setting up a girl’s day today, I immediately agreed.
I miss Ginger, and I called her back this morning after missing her text late last night. She was heading to take the boys to the zoo, so she didn’t have much time to talk, but she scoffed playfully when I told her my plans for the day. She said Finn could have me while I was in Timber Forge, but as soon as I was back in California, all bets were off.
I could tell that she was a little sad that I was spending the day with my childhood best friend instead of my current one, but she was quick to let me know she was happy that I wasn’t alone. In typical Ginger fashion, she had assured me she was fine, but if I didn’t get my ass back to California soon, she’d be booking a flight. I’d book it myself if I thought she’d really come. She and Finn would get along great.
She hadn’t heard any more from Derek, which I was grateful for. It was bad enough that he was still texting and calling me almost daily, and I knew I wasn’t going to be able to avoid him forever. She told me to block his number, at least until I could decide what I wanted.
I filled her in on all things Timber Forge but decided to keep my feelings for Hank to myself. Only because I knew Ginger would tell me to pursue him. If for no other reason than getting Derek out of my system. That was just Ginger; she wasn’t shy about sex.
She knew mine and Derek’s relationship was severely lacking in that department. And she definitely didn’t have the hang ups that I did about relationships. Ginger was one of those women who was very secure in her sexuality, and she wasn't afraid to go after what she wanted.
She wasn’t looking for a relationship; her boys were her life. However, she always reminded me there was nothing wrong with having a bit of fun. But I can’t imagine using Hank that way, and I’m still not entirely sure that what I’m feeling isn’t just residual.
But Ginger knows me pretty well, and if she was here, she would take one look and know something was different with me. Something about telling her what I was feeling for Hank made it more real. Almost like, because Ginger was a part of my real life, it would somehow make it harder to separate my life in California from life in Timber Forge. I was already having a hard time remembering why Hank and life here hadn’t been my automatic first choice.
Finn and I are on our second round of margaritas. We’ve got a full afternoon of shopping planned and walking up and down these streets for a few hours should sober us up in plenty of time for one of us to drive home this evening.
“How are things coming along with your grandparents' house?” Finn asks as the waiter sets our food in front of us: enchiladas for Finn and chicken fajitas for me.
“There’s literally so much to do. Just when I think I’m making progress, I find a bunch of other stuff that needs going through or fixed. I’m pretty sure my granddad kept literally every receipt, TV Guide, and utility bill he ever received. But I guess it’s coming along.”
I’d found legal box after legal box shoved in the closet of the den and three more in the hall closet, all stuffed to overflowing with old mail and receipts. Fourteen boxes in total. I'd just about thrown out my back moving them all around. When I had finished shredding the stuff I didn’t think I needed to keep, it didn't even look like I had made a dent. But I was now the proud owner of six garbage bags full of shredded documents. At least the boxes had been narrowed down.
She hums a sound of affirmation as she chews. “I remember when they cleaned out Jeff’s grandpa’s place,” she says with a shake of her head. With the exception of that day in the café, it's the first time she’s mentioned her husband. “That man had magazines shoved in every single corner of the house when he passed.”
“Here?”
“Fort Worth. Eight months ago,” she answers, and her demeanor changes all at once to one of…regret, maybe? I’m not quite sure.
“Were you all close?” When I’d left town, she had just broken up with Zach, the captain of the lacrosse team from our graduating class. Then, she and I lost touch.
“Hardly.” She huffs out a chuckle and a wry smile twists her lips. “Jeff’s family never supported our marriage much.” She takes a long sip of her water, sitting the glass down with athunk.
“No?” I couldn’t understand how anyone could not like Finnley. She is quite possibly the nicest person I know. Or have ever known.
“Let’s just say…” She purses her lips and looks up as if she’s trying to decide how to phrase it. “They thought Jeff was marrying way below his station.”
I guffaw. “What, is he a duke or something?”
“God, no.” She snorts lightly. “But he is the heir to one of the biggest steel manufacturing tycoons in the Northern Hemisphere, and marriage to a poor, working-class nobody from Timbuktu Montana—Jeff’s mother’s words, not mine?—”
My mouth drops open, and I cut in, interrupting her. “She actually said that to you?”
Her answering snort is both endearing and hilarious. “That would require her to actually speak to me for longer than two minutes. Jeff told me that during one of our many arguments. I think we were trying to decide where to spend Christmas.”
“Wow,” I say, incredulous. “She sounds like a peach.” Him, too, come to think of it. Who repeats something that hurtful to their partner?
Seeming delighted in my shared disdain of the woman, a grin splits her face.
“You have no idea. Needless to say, I wasn’t whatChipandBunnyhad in mind for their precious son.” She enunciates each of their names in a snooty voice. “After seeing their son with me for five years, I think our separation was probably the highlight of their decade.”
