Amy Inspired - Bethany Pierce [76]
“Zoë can’t be gone for long,” he said.
“No, I’m sure she’ll be back by the end of the week.”
“You’ll call me if things get bad with her mom.”
“You’ll still be working with her,” I pointed out.
I showed him to the door, promising I would be back from class by four to help him move his desk and artwork. Back upstairs I leaned on the kitchen counter, dreading the day. I cringed as the Volkswagen revved to life.
Classes were terrible. I left my notes at the office and had to struggle blindly through my lessons. By the last class I gave up and made the students write in their journals. They lost interest quickly and whispered to one another, drew pictures in their notebooks. One fell asleep, but I didn’t have the energy to make a spectacle of him. I stared out the window and remembered the peculiar, pained expression that had flashed across Eli’s face when I told him he hadn’t hurt me, if that was what he was worried about. It was a revelation to me that I could lie so effortlessly; I had almost succeeded in deceiving myself.
I dismissed the students early and rushed home, but his things were already gone. I searched the apartment up and down for a note or an explanation. An apology. He’d left without so much as a drawing.
It took three days of phone calls to get ahold of my mother. After months of nonstop phone calls, my mother had abruptly stopped harassing me. We had only spoken briefly about the fight with Zoë (she was on my side, naturally) and the return of Fay’s cancer (it was in God’s hands, of course). I had been the one to hang up, impatient with her easy answers. Now I regretted being so rude. I was frustrated with myself, worried about Zoë, distraught about Eli. I needed to talk to her.
“Is everything okay?” she asked. “You sound terrible.”
“I’m fine,” I said. “But what about you? How are you? I haven’t heard from you.”
“I know, I know, I’m so sorry—I have been meaning to call, but things are so busy here. I’ve been working every day of the week, and I’ve got two new salesladies to train. Things are piling up like you wouldn’t believe.”
“You could have at least e-mailed me.”
“Oh, honey, I really am sorry. You sound bothered. Are you sure you’re doing all right?”
I updated her on school and tedious Copenhagen news. I had hoped to circle conversation toward Eli eventually, but Mom was only half listening, her eyes on the kitchen television or a newspaper. I changed the subject to one I knew she could carry. “How’s the wedding planning coming?”
“Oh, it’s madness. We’ve been trying to decide on a restaurant for the rehearsal dinner, but you know Brian and Marie—so indecisive. It takes me hours to get them to say what they really want. I keep telling them we have the money now, so we can do things nice, but Brian says he wants to have it at the Roadhouse Steak Pit. Honestly.”
As she continued to talk, I realized that this “we” she spoke of referred to her and Richard. It soon became apparent that he had offered Mom money for the rehearsal dinner and the various components of the wedding she had wedged herself into organizing.
“Are you sure you want him to help?” I asked.
“If I’m going to be indebted, it might as well be to someone I know.”
“That actually sounds like the worse kind of debt to be in.”
“I’ve been meaning to tell you,” she replied. “Richard and I are going away.”
“Oh?”
“Well, he has these frequent flyer miles adding up, and he’s practically won himself a free trip to Napa Valley. We’re going next week—it’s completely last minute. The house is an utter disaster. I have clothes all over the living room and in the kitchen, and I’ve been trying to get my mail forwarded to Grandma, but I don’t know if they’ll only do that for just seven days. Do they do that for seven days? I think they do.”
“Seven days is a long time,” I said.
“I know, I’ve never been on a vacation