The pieces were coming together for me in Coleman Creek. Friends to have a beer with. Students to tease. People at the park who knew Bambi’s name. Bartenders at The Landslide who brought me a Heineken without me having to ask. And, of course, Marley.
This felt like the first “real” life I’d ever had. I needed those budget cuts not to materialize.
I needed to stay.
Chapter nine
Marley
ThesecondSaturdayofDecember I pulled my first shift at the Christmas tree lot. Snow had yet to fall this season, the afternoon chilly but clear. Rumors about the budget had spread among not just the staff, but also the student body, although no one knew the specifics.
The PTSA had gone all out to ensure we earned as much as possible. Besides trees, wreaths, and fresh garland, there were also Christmas cookies, hot chocolate, and cider available to purchase. Families donated the food items, and one well-connected parent had sourced all the greenery from a local farm at cost. If things sold at a steady clip, profits would be excellent. And even though I knew we couldn’t fund a faculty position with PTSA funds, I couldn’t help but feel the karmic universe would reward our efforts somehow.
I knew this shift would be slow. Most people were like me—they didn’t want to buy too early and risk having a dead tree on Christmas morning. Brown needles not only looked terrible, they had the potential to keep the fire department extremely busy.
Still, a few optimistic souls always bought this weekend. The people who claimed to have an old family trick or voodoo magic to keep cut trees alive.Misting salt water over the branches? Sure, why not? Sprite in the tree stand? Makes perfect sense to me. Christmas is the time of miracles, after all.
The students had done their part, decorating the corner of the parking lot we used as a sales floor. Strings of colored lights crisscrossed over the space. Red and green ribbons braided into the temporary chain-link fence swayed in the crisp air.
Wooden boards covered in different wrapping papers made a festive backdrop against the side of the school. Students had designated this area as the “selfie station,” encouraging families and their peers to use the #colemancreekholiday hashtag when posting the pics on social media. I appreciated this attempt to draw some customers to the lot who wouldn’t otherwise have a reason to go. The idea of a designated place to take anofficialColeman Creek holiday photo. There was even a little prop table. If folks who normally avoided the lot because they put up artificial trees came to take a photo, they might decide to buy a wreath or a cookie. It couldn’t hurt to try.
As I pulled into the parking lot, my phone vibrated.
KASEN:Have you given any more thought to drinks? I’d love to see you before you go out of town next weekend. No pressure though *smiley face emoji*
I stared at the text. It had been almost two weeks since I’d unblocked Kasen’s number, telling him we didn’t need to be strangers anymore. We’d traded dozens of messages over the past twelve days, clumsy at first, but soon becoming a friendly exchange of information.
He still lived in the Portland apartment we’d shared five years ago. He’d been working remotely for a few years and was considering moving, since he could do his graphic design job from anywhere. I told him about teaching and Oscar. And that I had plans to go to Seattle with a friend next weekend—although I hadn’t given him any details about James.
Texting with Kasen re-affirmed my belief that I’d moved on from our relationship. I’d been hurt, sure, but I hadn’t been pining this whole time. However, communicating after so many years had caused some of that hurt to bubble back up to the surface, more strongly than I’d expected. Everything from his word choices to his dry humor offered the warm hint of nostalgia. It reminded me how good we’d been together, what we’d lost when he’d chosen city life over me. I didn’t desire him now, but it still smarted that he hadn’t wanted me then.
Kasen had asked to meet in person. “Just to catch up.” I hadn’t answered him yet.
Would seeing him be upsetting? Texting was a lot different than sitting across the table from someone.
And then there was James to consider.
Even though we weren’t officially more than friends, I felt like I needed to at least broach the subject with him first. Not just hit him with “hey guess what—I had drinks with my ex” after the fact.
I’d been reluctant to bring up the subject of Kasen because things between James and I had been so easy since the door decorating contest.
Good-natured about coming in second place, James had refused to even hint at what he planned to do for the talent show. I’d made dinner for him twice this week. The first night, he’d told me more about his childhood in Seattle and his college days in Oregon. The second, he’d spoken briefly about his marriage. I now knew he’d been married for three years to a woman named Cindy. They’d adopted Bambi together and been generally unhappy the whole time.
“She wasn’t who I thought she was, and in the end, she didn’t know me either, other than she knew I disappointed her,” he’d said.
I struggled to imagine anyone being disappointed in James, but my experience had taught me that trying to dissect a relationship you’re not part of is pointless.
ME:How about a tentative yes to meeting up in person? I need to check on a few things.
KASEN:I’ll take it. Tentative is better than a flat-out no. *fingers crossed emoji*
ME:I’ll let you know by Tuesday.
KASEN:Sounds good. I hope I see you soon.
ME:*thumbs up emoji*
The thumbs up was a little weird, but it didn’t feel right to reply, “you too,” or anything similar. I hadn’t missed Kasen. Not in any meaningful way. I’d only forgotten the magnitude of the pain I’d experienced coming back to Coleman Creek alone. Maybe seeing him in person would help me leave that last vestige of hurt in the past where it belonged. Maybe we could be friends. Or at least be something new.
