Page 11 of Merrily Yours
“You should chew with your mouth closed,” I reply, plopping down onto the couch.
She narrows her eyes but finishes her bite and tries again. “I’m serious, Jules. You should quit teaching.”
“I’m not going to quit in the middle of the school year,” I say.
“That’s very admirable. However, it doesn’t mean you can’t start making plans for what happens next.”
“Right, but what happens next?” I ask, hoping she knows the answer.
“I don’t know, JuJu. That’s for you to decide.”
I sigh, undoing my hair and retying it again. “Enough of your wisdom. Finish your food and then we need to go shopping, yes?” I ask, very ready to change the subject.
Bex groans. “Don’t remind me! How I can be married to someone and not know what to get them for Christmas still boggles my mind. But he’s so hard to shop for!”
“I thought you wanted to get him something to reveal the gender of the baby.”
“I do, but what? A baby outfit sounds boring. I was thinking maybe a funny shirt, but I don’t know where I could find that so last minute. Let’s just go to the market and maybe something will inspire me.” She finishes off her mac and cheese, and I take it from her to rinse off in the sink.
“I have to pee before we leave.” She rolls her eyes. “I always have to pee.”
“No rush, I already found my Christmas presents so I’m just going with you for moral support.”
“No one likes a bragger, Julien!” she calls from down the hall.
I’ve learned with Bex sometimes it’s best to just keep your mouth shut.
We get to the indoor market and Bex immediately spots five different items she wants for herself and nothing that would be a good gift for her husband. We meander the aisles, picking up candles to smell, admiring the work of local artists, and taste testing different teas. I find a few of the latter that I like and end up taking a business card from the owner—an older woman who has spent years perfecting her tea recipes.
I’m pocketing it when Bex comes up behind me and asks, “What are you going to do with that?”
I don’t actually know so I just shrug. It’s not like this woman is looking to hire an ex-music teacher to help her make tea.
We continue on, Bex half-heartedly looking for something that “inspires” her. Out of the blue she states, “You need to find a woman to take care of.”
“Excuse me?” I ask, eyebrows raised. “That’s not very feminist of you.”
“Not that she willneedtaking care of, but you need to find someone youwantto take care of. Someone who will want to take care of you, too,” she says, bumping my shoulder and looking around as if we’ll find someone right here in one of these booths.
“That is much easier said than done.” I stuff my hands in my pockets to stop myself from running them through my hair—something I’ve realized is a nervous habit.
“True. It’s not like there’s a lot of eligible women running around Sassafras,” she muses. “And you’re too old to go pick someone up at Hawthorne now.”
“I’m only thirty, Bex, it’s not like I’m ancient.”
“Kind of weird for a thirty-year-old to start dating someone in college though, don’t you think?” she asks.
I scoff, because now I know she’s fucking with me. “Hmm, I seem to remember a certain twenty-eight-year-old dating a certain college senior not that long ago.”
“That wastotallydifferent.” She winks. “Listen, I don’t care where you find her but you need a person, you know? You’re lonely and unhappy, which is a terrible combination for someone as broody as you are when everything is going your way. You are like a sad puppy.”
“And you give the absolute worst inspirational talks,” I reply.
She holds a finger up in the air. “I resent that. Oh! Look!” She uses the same finger to point to a matching baby and adult outfit on the mannequin at a booth across from us.
I smirk. “It’s perfect.”
“Order some extra wontons, please!” Bex says into the phone. “Yes, I’m allowed to eat those! Ugh, put Anders on.”
