"She forgot Patcher." Renata slips on a pair of flip flops. "Seth asked me to bring him over."
"Can't he come get it?" I ask.
She quirks her mouth. "They're...in the middle of something." Her voice sounds tired, but also slightly amused. She's already in her pajamas and her hair is in a silk wrap. "I'll be right back."
I click off my phone and set it down on the glider. "I'll take it."
Renata hesitates for a second. "Are you sure?"
"Of course." I reach out and take Patcher from her. "I'm not going to bed for a while."
She smiles warmly. "I appreciate it. Seth will be annoyed that I sent you, but he'll get over it. Here take this with you."
She pulls a small flashlight out of her pants pocket and hands it to me. I hear her chuckle as she goes back inside the house and wonder why Seth will be annoyed to see me. Maybe Renata isn't aware that he and I are on better, or at least more neutral, terms now, if you can call the terms "neutral" after sharing a steamy kiss.
The crickets are singing as I cross the field to Seth's cabin, and I hear what I think is a frog join their chorus. It's funny how I've gotten used to the noises here in the country, and I almost like them now. The yard gets darker with every step I take away from the lights of the main house, and I flick on the flashlight Renata gave me to guide my way. Seth's cabin isn't far, probably an eighth of a mile, but it's hidden behind a grouping of trees that give it some privacy.
The air has finally cooled, and the sky is clear tonight. The stars are on full display, and I marvel at how many there are. It feels strange that they're always there, even when I'm in New York City where I can barely see them at all. I haven't seen a night sky like this since my college friends dragged me to a meditation retreat in rural Mexico. Five excruciating days of sitting on stone hard cushions and a bout of traveler's diarrhea, but the night skies were beautiful.
I find myself thinking that I need to set up a hammock in the yard to enjoy stargazing, then remind myself that I'll be leaving soon. A hammock wouldn't be a waste of money if Harmony would use it after I'm gone. Sadness creeps up on me, but I nudge it away. There are so many things waiting for me back home. My bed. My friends. Decent bagels. I don't want to think about how my job is looming there, too, with the ongoing problem of Dan's presence, or about the possibility of Hugh leaving New York. I know in my bones that Raymond will get the job. The angst I feel about it tells me I rely on Hugh too much. Friends have hinted at it for years. When my friend Cara found out Hugh was moving out of our apartment to live with Raymond, her response was, "It's like you guys are getting a divorce." And it definitely felt that way.
I have to admit that having Hugh in my life did lessen my need for a romantic partner. He was my best friend, my soul mate, really. I dated other guys to fulfill my physical needs, but Hugh and I shared our histories, our problems and our secrets. Even when he moved out, we still talked every day on the phone and spent a lot of time together. It suited Hugh, too, since Raymond worked long hours. I suspect Raymond felt less guilty about working so much, knowing that Hugh had someone to keep him company. Now Hugh won't be a subway ride away, he'll be living halfway across the country.
I literally stop in my tracks because it dawns on me that this is what Isabelle meant: Hugh is the soulmate who will break my heart. There's some comfort in having figured out the real meaning of her prophecy. At least I don't have to worry about yet another heartbreak coming my way.
The lights are all still on in the cabin, and I hear music coming from inside as I walk up the steps of his porch. I admire the two friendly rocking chairs and the wrought iron table between them, then knock loudly on the door so that they'll hear me.
Seth is the one to fling open the door, and now I understand Renata's amusement. He and Harmony certainly have been busy. His hair is done up in tiny braids and bows. Those feminine touches juxtaposed with his powerful frame and facial scruff, make him look completely ridiculous. Something that sounds like "Pfft!" escapes my mouth.
"Thanks," he says, reaching out for Patcher.
I pull the stuffed animal away and make a closer inspection of his head. This is retribution for laughing at me in the barn, and I'm going to enjoy it.
"This is a good look for you. Can I see the back?"
Seth growls and grabs the toy from me. I want to pull out my phone and snap a picture, but he'd never let me. I'll have to delight in the fact that this shared memory will live on in our minds.
A Taylor Swift song is playing in the background, and Harmony calls out, "I can do your hair next, Andie!"
"Oh, sorry, Harmony, I'm going to bed now, but maybe you should do Seth's makeup, too. He'd love that."
I wink at him, bubbles of laughter rising up in my throat.
Seth glowers and says, "Add this to the list of things that we will never speak of again."
"Gender identity is just a construct!" I yell as he shuts the door in my face.
I gallop like a drunken horse all the way home, singing that Taylor Swift song at the top of my lungs and feeling happier than I have in weeks.
* * *
The good moodI'm in on Friday night evaporates the next morning when Dan texts to tell me he spent the previous night coming clean to his wife. She knows about ourrelationship. My ex Kirk never once called me his girlfriend in the whole year we dated, but Dan and I were in a relationship. Okay, sure. Men are a nightmare.
Right before dinner, Hugh calls to tell me that Raymond did get the job in Chicago. They won't leave until September because Raymond has to complete a major project in the New York office first, but it's happening. I congratulate Raymond and assure Hugh, who is freaking out, that he'll be alright. I'm not sure if I'll be okay, but I play the part of supportive friend and reserve my meltdown for when I get off the phone. I'm too upset to even cry so I scream into the pillow on my bed then punch it repeatedly until feathers fly from it.
My bedroom is too small to contain my emotional spiral, and what I'd really like to do is throw something, which I'm sure Renata wouldn't appreciate. As an alternative to violence, I strap on my sneakers and flee the house, leaving Dad to call after me that they'll keep my plate of food warm for me. Heading for the road with Janelle Monae blasting in my headphones, I run at a pace I can't possibly sustain. By the second hill, I'm panting and the tears finally come. Once I start crying, I can't stop. I've got sweat, snot and tears running down my face as I hobble down the road on one of the hottest days of the summer. It's not my best look. I finally give up on getting home and stumble to the side of the road. After flopping down on my bottom, I sob into my tank top, feeling pathetic, small and totally dysfunctional. I should be able to handle what's happening in my life. I'm a grown-up, and things could be so much worse. My friends are dealing with cancer, aging parents, and children with disabilities, and I'm overwhelmed by much less traumatic events, some of which are my own doing.
I remember what my therapist once told me about not comparing my troubles to those of other people. They may not seem big in relation to other people's worries, but it's okay to admit you're struggling with the load you're carrying. And I'm definitely struggling right now. I want to forget about everything for a little while, even for one night. That's when I make a decision, right on the side of the road as the mosquitos feast on my blood: I'm getting fucking lit tonight.
