Page 33 of The Significance of Moving On

“Ouch—dick.” he glairs at me, rubbing down the spot I’d hit but is not deterred in the least. “Really, how’s that working?” Brave man.

“How’s it going with you and Becca?” He visibly flinches from her name. It’s a low blow but it’s better than talking about the mess I can’t deal with right now.

“Honestly? I miss her more than I thought possible. It actually hurts to breathe.”

“Why don’t you do something about it, then?”

“She’s in Arizona.”

“And? It’s a state not another planet.”

“She wanted me to go, man. She wanted me to go and I said no. I fucked up.”

“So what’s stopping you?”

He pulls a cigarette out of the pack but he doesn’t light it, just flips it around between his fingers, puts it in his mouth but then pulls it right back out only to shove it back in again right before rubbing his forehead with the palms of his hands and then slumps back against the seat. “She won’t even take my calls.”

“Then make the trip. Surprise the hell out of her. Girls like the grand gesture.”

“Says the man who won’t man up for the girl he loves.”

“Tal and I can’t happen, it’s just better for her. Don’t let Becca go that easily, though. She’s good for you.”

“Best thing to ever happen to me.”

“Then tell her that. Preferably with a ring.”

We don’t say anything more as I take the exit to the rest stop. There’s a kind of satisfaction in crushing all the newly fallen leaves underfoot leading inside to the restroom. Maybe it’s a power trip or maybe I’m just a big kid. Jess gets his Dew, but there’s a cappuccino machine next to the other vending machines. It’s like fate brought us here.

Once we’re back in the car and on the road about fifteen minutes in he takes a long drink of his pop and asks, “What if I do and she rejects me? I won’t even have a job.”

He’s honestly been thinking this whole time about what I said. “Do you really think she’s over the six years you’ve spent together, already? Besides, boss knows a lot of people in the landscape business. Goes to all those conventions. Maybe he knows someone and can pull a favor—put in a good word.”

“Yeah. Maybe.”

That’s where it does end. Man, I don’t even want to think about when Tal leaves, which I wouldn’t be surprised if she finds another place while I’m gone. Maybe Able Mackey has a sofa she can borrow. She’s smart. The girl could get into any college of her choosing if she hangs on until she graduates in the spring.

Being around her, knowing the potential her life has makes me think sometimes about what I’d have done at her age if my life had turned out differently. Maybe I’d have gone to college, too. Studied landscape design or city planning or architecture.

Maybe I’d have met a nice girl and we’d be getting married this summer. Those words leave a bad taste in my mouth even if they weren’t spoken out loud, because if I met a girl at college, who would’ve been there that night to help Tal? We probably never would have met. Who would she have counted on to take care of her after Tom died?

We roll into Traverse City right when church services let out and church people scurry for places to eat lunch, which just happens to be right as Jesse and I try to find a place to go in and have lunch ourselves before hitting the client’s home. Neither of us really knows the area. This side of the state caters to the golfing and wine tasting sets. Who can afford either?

McDonalds it is. Every town has one of those.

We finally make it to the client’s property after getting turned around several times then only to be stuck at the gate until the guard could verify us, our company and that we had legitimate business to conduct. As it turns out, the golf pro hasn’t even shown up yet. He’s still in, ironically, Arizona. Jesse and I meet with the property manager to go over what the homeowner has in mind.

Our boss was right, the job is huge. In actuality, the biggest in our company’s history. There’s a little voice in the back of my head that yells we’re not equipped to handle it, but man, the bonus promised to me would help out immeasurably. Expenses, especially utilities and food, have almost doubled since Tally moved in, which is to be expected but still doesn’t make it easy to provide for her.

Jesse walks around the grass and pavement taking pictures from the angles I tell him to while I measure out the area. That takes us a couple of hours, then we head out for the day. As I start the truck, he pulls up a list of hotels on his phone. We find an inexpensive one with vacancies on the opposite side of the city from the client’s home to stay in. The boss man told me to use the company expense card but to keep things cheap. Will do.

Two double beds in a plain, cleanish room. I check the nooks and crannies, under the mattresses, inside the electrical outlets and inside the dressers for any signs of bugs. Since nothing turns up, I flop down on the bed and check my phone.

There’s a missed call and voicemail on my phone from Tally. It’s a chicken move. My finger hovers back and forth between the listen and delete buttons. If she’s pissed, I don’t want to deal with it right now, but if she’s not, she needs to be.

Ultimately I give in and hit listen, flopping back on the bed while her beautiful voice fills my ears, “Hey, Case, please call me,” then there’s a long pause that has me about to hang up when her sound fills me again, “I—I miss you, already,” she whispers, sounding way too sad.

Dammit. She’s not supposed to miss me. She’s supposed to fear me. Didn’t she hear a word I’ve said? Did it not register that I’m a monster? Talk about a lack of self-preservation.

---