Page 103 of Friendshipped
It’s been a full week since I woke up in Trevor’s arms after the night of my birthday tornado.
He helped Meg move today. He still hasn’t come home, and I’m trying to keep myself busy instead of obsessively checking the driveway for his car.
As much as Trevor denies any implication he and Meg are dating or at least moving in that direction, his actions speak loudest. He went to her home to help her move. Shannon said she saw them at ice cream the other day together. Meg’s inching her way into Trevor’s life. If I know her, she’s got a strategy for wearing him down. Before you know it, they’ll be back together.
I pull out my laptop and scan journalism job openings. I’m not necessarily trying to leave the Tribune, I’m just looking. It’s getting harder and harder to bide my time writing pieces that don’t get read and penning obituaries. My phone rings. I look over at the coffee table where it’s rattling on the tabletop. It’s Felicia.
“Hey.”
“Hey. What are you up to?” she asks
“Just looking at job openings.”
“Did something happen?”
“No. I’ve still got my job at the Tribune. I don’t know. I feel like I’m never going to get ahead if I stay there. Jeanette has it out for me. She hates my idea for a column. I keep telling myself I’m paying my dues, but I wonder if things will ever change.”
“Well, it’s good you’re looking around. What on earth would you do if you had to work somewhere without Trevor, though?”
“That’s a whole other thing,” I tell Felicia. “Meg’s back in town and they are together a lot more these days. I feel claustrophobic.”
Felicia hums.
“What?”
“Jealous, or claustrophobic?”
I don’t have the energy to fight about this right now.
“Whatever. The town feels like it shrunk since she moved in.”
“Well, if you want my opinion … do you?”
I can’t believe I’m going to say yes, but I actually do.
“Yes. Tell me.”
“I think you’re right. You probably aren’t going to move ahead at Corn Corners, and you ought to move to a metropolis like Cincinnati. You’d still be close enough to go home on the weekends. You could still visit Trevor. You loved it in Cincy during undergrad. And you’ll find so many more opportunities there. Plus, we’d be so much closer!”
I think about what Felicia’s saying. My head starts to feel the onslaught of a headache.
“What’s tying you to Bordeaux?”
“Right now? Nothing really. Obviously, Trevor. But he seems to be more occupied with Meg these days. If they get more serious, our friendship has a definite expiration date. There’s no way Meg will stand for me and Trevor staying friends while they date.”
The reality hits me in the solar plexus. Meg’s moving in and Trevor isn’t stopping her. Eventually she’ll have him, and without a doubt she’ll put a stop to our pizza/movie nights, watching stars, and cooking dinners together.
My days are numbered.
“It would be different if I had a better position at the Tribune. Trevor’s got a dream job that pays more than mine and involves reviewing restaurants. It’s a job guys twice his age wait years to get. Whereas my job … well, have you ever heard someone aspire to writing eulogies?”
“They are so well written, though. I mean, your one on the sheep farmer outside Tipp City was a classic.”
“You read my obituaries?”
“Of course, I do.”
I don’t know why, but I almost tear up.
