Page 75 of Every Good Thing
“Yes.”
Silence ensues after my admission. The puzzle is scattered on the table, and we’re each trying to make the pieces fit. After two hours of openly talking, it felt wrong to sidestep the truth. I would’ve already accepted the job if Lauren wasn’t a factor. John’s right—I won’t get a better offer, and the position suits me.
But it’d be hard on Lena.
She says all the right things. I wouldn’t be here now without her encouragement. Everything’s gone to hell this week with the studio’s occupation of Saddletree, and she’s done nothing but try to appease me. Turning her down the other night when she wore that lacy getup was me choosing my bad mood over her—I’ve regretted it since. Taking this job feels wrong, too. It’d be a test of her faith in me that, however strong, she shouldn’t have to endure.
It’s a test I don’t want to endure, either.
I could’ve lived out the rest of my days in sublime contentment without so much as a hesitant pause over Lauren Riley. Like she said, it’s done, and we’re better people for it.
Only after Adam and with the changes ahead, my self-assurance has taken a hit. I don’t know who I am anymore—a debilitating feeling that I haven’t had since six weeks after that damn IED when I lost Lauren and the Rileys in a blink, while starting over and recovering from physical injuries and PTSD.
It feels like history is repeating itself, except this time, I’m split into two versions—the man I was and the man I am now. I catch glimpses of me before my injuries and long to be him again. That guy had it all—an impressive career ahead, overwhelming family support, a bright, predictable future, and excellent hearing. The Rileys make me remember what it was like to be whole.
And wholly devastated. Lauren destroyed us, forcing me to get small. I screamed, cried, said things, and broke things. I let my anger shield my brokenness to keep her away from me.
I never wanted to see her again, let alone be able to see her daily.
“Your contact with Lauren will be limited,” John says. “Larry, how often do you see Lauren?”
“Once in a blue moon. We handle HR’s security checks but rarely communicate unless there’s an issue.”
“She refused my invitation to our lunch today,” John adds. “She’s only interested in finding the best person for the job. That’s all… If Lena feels insecure, I’d be happy to—”
“Lena’s not insecure. She has no reason to be. She doesn’t want it to be a strain on me,” I say, more defensively than needed.
“That’s understandable. It was a difficult time. None of us handled it well. Lauren… it was hard for her to see you like that.” He takes a long breath. “But it’s all in the past now.”
I nod, but it doesn’t feel that way. I’m still like that. And with my hearing deteriorating, I’m even more broken.
On the drive home, I resolve to tell Lena everything. Pushing the past aside, going with Riley Trust would make my future feel less daunting. I want that security and support. To make the final decision, I need Lena’s.
Finding her in the barn laughing with that guy thwarts my best intentions. He’s clearly flirting, and she plays along, perhaps unaware. Maybe encouraging it. Regardless, it’s a violation. I don’t know him. That he’s alone in the barn with my wife and daughter pisses me off.
When she defends his intrusion and implies that she “admires” him, I cringe with jealousy, like she can’t admire us both at the same time. She can’t—I have a shit attitude and Kirby has a TV show.
Damn it. That’s not fucking fair, and I know it.
When she drives off, regret swarms me—it’s my headline emotion these days. I know how hard things were for her when she cared for her Mom and how precious small pleasures are when you find them.
Why do I keep hurting her?
Then, I consider that taking the job means jealousy could become an everyday norm for Lena, another thing she has to battle with her anxiety, and my regret grows for wanting a job that would cause her pain.
My optimism now gone, I default, once again, to silence.
Twenty-One
LENA
It’s the perfect day for a picnic, as if the Rileys placed a special order and paid extra for cloudless blue skies, low seventies, and zero humidity.
The Riley Trust Family Picnic sprawls across the campus’ main lawn, a scene from a Hallmark movie. Food trucks and massive grills line the parking lot on the outskirts. Multiple tiki bars spread strategically across the landscape serve beer and mixed drinks. Occupying the left field, bounce houses, a petting zoo, small amusement park rides, and carnival games keep the kids entertained. On the central lawn, a band plays pop hits on a stage, surrounded by dancing couples and a campground of lawn chairs and picnic blankets. To the right, tented shelters overflow with families eating and enjoying the band. It’s a perfect setting for fun and relaxation, a stark contrast to my unease.
Meeting the Rileys and Ben’s potential workmates en masse knots my stomach into an aching, anxious ball, like I’m pregnant and in labor with it. I’m seriously going to have an anxiety baby right here on the lawn.
The funny thing is, I’m not anxious about meeting new people. Peopling is a part of my business where I excel. I’m not even that worried about meeting these people. I don’t particularly relish the idea of seeing Lauren again, but the rest were once Ben’s secondary family. Getting to know them might reveal insights about him, and maybe I’ll get some fun Ben stories out of it.
