Page 8 of Endurance

“Dean! Hi…um, I didn’t expect to hear from you tonight.” I paused and glanced at the clock. It was nearing midnight. “You never stay up this late.”

“I’m in bed, but I can’t sleep. I started thinking about the plans to tell my mother we’re engaged. I thought—”

“Tell your mother? But I haven’t even said yes yet,” I interrupted, trying to keep my voice light.

“Doll, you and I both know that’s just a formality,” he said with a chuckle. “After we get the ring, I thought we should take her out to a nice dinner and give her the good news.”

A nice dinner?

I nearly scoffed. When Dean proposed, we’d been sitting at his kitchen table. He decided to pop the question over Thai take-out. Now here he was, saying he wanted to treat his mother to a nice dinner so we could tell her about ournon-engagement when all I got was subpar vegetable pad thai in a cardboard container. I inhaled a deep, calming breath and forced myself not to sound petty with my reply.

“Look, Dean. We need to talk. My dad called earlier about a job in California. We picked up a client who lives in L.A. It’s a lot of money and I think I’m going to take it, but I’d have to leave tomorrow.”

“Well, that’s great, doll! More money is always good and I know how much you like to travel, so—”

“It’s for six months, Dean. I’d have to move there temporarily.”

“Six months? But I have the American Dental Association dinner next week. I need you to be there.”

“I’m sure you’ll be fine without me.”

“It’s not about whether I’ll be fine or not. It’s about how it will look if I show up without a date. Everyone will be there with spouses or significant others. You can’t expect me to go alone.”

I pinched the bridge of my nose.

“Honestly, Dean. I don’t know why you would want me to be there anyway. You know I hate those things because I can never be myself. The charade is exhausting.”

“Kallie, we’ve been through this. It’s not a charade. You just don’t understand acceptable decorum.”

I pursed my lips in annoyance. For Dean, acceptable decorum at formal events meant no colorful hair extensions, always remembering to place my napkin on my chair when I left the table, and only speaking when spoken to. Heaven forbid I say something that could embarrass him in front of his peers.

Feeling frustrated, I glanced down at the tarot cards spread out over my bed. I absently pushed them together until they were in a neat pile and placed them back inside my nightstand drawer. Regardless of what the cards were trying to tell me, I knew in my heart what needed to happen. I had to figure out if Dean and I were meant to be together—and this conversation was definitely not helping. Marriage should be forever. It wasn’t fair for me to waste his time or his life if I was having doubts. I believed everything happened for a reason, and I did not doubt that California was fated.

“I’m not going to debate acceptable decorum with you. Our views on that will always be different. As for my move to California, I think it’s a sign that we should put the wedding plans on hold. We can discuss it when I get back.”

“That’s not going to work for me, Kallie. I need you at that dinner,” he stated matter-of-factly as if that settled the matter. An angry heat flooded my cheeks, and no matter how hard I tried to tamp it down, my temper began to simmer.

“Why do I feel like you’re dismissing me—as if I’m no more than a woman on your arm for your stupid event?”

“Oh, stop it. You know you mean more to me than that.”

“Do I? I mean, never once did you say you’d miss me if I were to be gone for six months. No. Instead, your first instinct was a black-tie dinner.”

“You’re not being fair. Of course I would miss you.”

I sighed, knowing I was acting slightly irrational, even if my feelings were justified.

“Alright. Let’s not fight. I don’t want to leave with things on a bad note.”

“So you’re going? No discussion?”

I paused, unsure of how to respond. When my father called about the job opportunity, my first thought was to talk it over with Dean. However, at some point over the course of the night, I’d already made up my mind. I was going with or without Dean’s approval. What did that say about me and my relationship with him? In a roundabout way, I was acting just as dismissive toward Dean as he was to me.

“Yes, I’m going. My father wouldn’t have asked if it weren’t important. We’ll just have to work through the separation. What’s six months? It will go by faster than you think.”

He stayed silent for a long moment that seemed to stretch on forever. Just as I was about to ask him what he was thinking, he finally spoke.

“Fine,” he said curtly, clearly unconvinced. “What time is your flight tomorrow?”

---