Page 9 of Stay this Christmas
“Travis is real.” Saying it only sounded even more like I’d made him up.
“We believe that he’s real,” Eden said, shooting Eliza a look before our youngest sister could argue. “We just want to be sure you’re happy with that whole situation.”
“I am.”
“Could you say it in a full sentence, please?” Eliza said.
I glared, but I would do it, if only to move the conversation along.
“I’m…” The word satright there, ready for me to say it, just tell them what they wanted to hear and be done with it. Pretend I was happy with Travis, just like I pretended I never thought about Sam at all. But regret wiggled around in my chest like a porcupine, poking and prodding tender spots, and I couldn’t do it. “I’m not unhappy.”
“But—?” June prompted.
I sighed and sank onto Eden’s velvet desk chair. “I’m not happy with him, either.”
“Step one,” Eliza said, sitting on the floor at my feet. “Get rid of Trevor.”
“Travis,” I said automatically.
“What’s wrong with Travis?” Eden asked.
I hitched a shoulder. “Nothing. Everything. We barely see each other. When we talk, it’s kind of…clinical? Like he’s only talking to me so he can check it off a to-do list somewhere. I don’t feel like he’s very invested.”
After our first two dates mid-summer, things had slowed down between us. Phone calls had dropped down to once every week or so, and texts weren’t much better. Our third date had been almost two months ago.
Wait, had we really only had three dates in six months? I thought back, but we’d definitely only seen each other in person three times aside from the conference, and I wasn’t desperate enough to count a professional meeting as a date.
Three dates in six months wasn’t just dating-lite, it sat on the edge of dating-free.
“It doesn’t sound very promising,” June said softly.
I’d mostly avoided talking about Travis with the girls, but laying it out there now, it crossed fromnot promisingintopathetic. A made-up boyfriend would have been slightly better than whatever this was. I’d been preoccupied with work, sure, but so much I hadn’t even realized my supposed boyfriend was more of an indifferent acquaintance?
“Areyouinvested?” Eden asked.
I didn’t have to search my heart all that hard for the answer. I’d kept telling myself I was being sensible about romance and moving at a normal pace, that all the stars and butterflies would make their appearance once Travis and I spent more time together. But wedidn’tspend more time together. And clearly, the time apart hadn’t made our hearts grow any fonder.
“I’m not invested, either.” Probably should have felt like a weight had lifted, like I’d been freed after accepting something I’d been ignoring for months now. The only thing I really felt was how much time I’d wasted. Kind of fit. “That’s one more thing I need to change up.”
“What do you mean?” June asked.
They waited wordlessly as I gathered my thoughts. I’d been agonizing over this so long, you’d think I’d have been a little more prepared to talk about it. “Do you remember our conversation a few weeks ago about our lives being messy?”
“The one where I had a crisis because I was in love with my boyfriend but I was afraid to be in love with him because maybe I was too messy?” Eliza smiled sweetly up at me. “Sure, I remember that one.”
The others nodded. We’d each reassured her that we were all messy in our own ways. It’d taken her a few more days, but she’d figured things out for herself and with Dean. They’d become a couple, he’d become a fixture at our family dinners, and now Eliza couldn’t shut up about how wonderful her boyfriend was.
But my part in that conversation had stuck with me, a bothersome splinter I couldn’t quite forget. My messiness had been mylackof mess. My lack of really living. The half-hearted attempt at dating Travis went right along with the pattern I’d fallen into: bland and faded out. Plain white bread with nothing on it.
“I can’t stop thinking about that. I realized just how insulated I’ve become at Fiesta Village. I meant it when I said I don’t go anywhere or try new things. My life is kind of…stagnant.”
I hated that word, but it still fit.
“How do you mean?” Eden asked.
I kind of loved that she seemed honestly not to know. Me, as soon as I’d seen it, I couldn’tunseeit. That word had followed me around for weeks now, flashing like neon every time I took the same roads to and from work or cooked the same meal for dinner. Every time I sat down to watch Netflix by myself or crocheted a scarf on a Friday night, the word glowed bright again.
“My patients at Fiesta Village are having more fun than I am. Mrs. Lopez goes to Costa Rica twice a year. Jerry still runs marathons. Edith just learned how to brew beer. Diana’s going to Hawai’i for Christmas.” I sank my face into my hands. “I’m almost twenty-nine, and my life is more boring than most eighty-year-olds.”
