Page 52 of Christmas Chemistry


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“Mr. Bailey, I appreciate you taking the time to come and tell me that. It means a lot.”

“Call me Fred, please.” He took a step back and cleared his throat. “I just wanted to make sure you knew that this doesn’t have to be the end of everything. When I heard about the budget, it reminded me I was about your age when I came to a similar crossroads.” I watched his eyes glaze a bit as he delved into his memories. “I haven’t always been a teacher. When I was thirty, I was working as a government analyst. I found out I was being transferred to the West Coast, a major promotion. I’d been seeing a young lady, Ellen. We’d only been dating for a few weeks, but I was already crazy about her. When I found out about the transfer, I had a wild hair to ask her to marry me. But I let my logical side drown out that impulse. We attempted to date long distance. This was before the days of texts and emails. We used letters and phone calls. My new assignments grew more difficult, and eventually, we stopped communicating. I convinced myself it was for the best, that I was holding her back. In hindsight, I was just afraid. I reached out a year later to beg her forgiveness, but by then it was too late. She was engaged to someone else.”

Funny to think that Mr. Bailey was as human as the rest of us. But I wasn’t entirely clear why he thought I needed to hear this story. “With all due respect, Fred, I’m not sure how this relates to what I’m going through.”

“The day I met you, you told me that teaching was your dream job. I’ve heard you say that to other folks, too. Something kept you from it until you were almost thirty years old, but now it’s finally in your grasp.”

“Are you saying I shouldn’t give up on teaching?”

“That transfer was my dream promotion. I’m saying things get in the way of our dreams sometimes. The trick is figuring out if those things are worth it.”

“You think Ellen would have been worth it?”

“Absolutely.” He gave me a pointed look and then turned and walked away.

I got to my car, dizzy from our conversation. My mind kept going back to the idea that when two dreams conflicted, with no way to reconcile them, you had to figure out which one you wanted more.

Staying in Coleman Creek was one path. I could explore a relationship with Marley, go out for beers with Travis, and continue to ingratiate myself within the town I was growing to love. I wouldn’t be able to teach anymore, but I could keep myself busy, find another job until, hopefully, something opened up at the high school.

The other choice, to leave and remain a teacher elsewhere, loomed as an option. There were so many schools in the greater Seattle area. I could live close to my parents and Leo again. Reignite my friendship with Will. Or I could go somewhere completely new. But where did that leave Marley? Had Fred been telling me to stay or to be better than he’d been at handling distance?

I opened Marley’s front door and the undecorated Christmas tree filled my vision. When we’d danced next to it this morning, I’d felt that first inkling of reality intruding. Had our long weekend been the beginning of something, or had we just been making memories? Our selfie mocked me from its place on the shelf. Could I risk my entire future, my career, on someone who might not be as invested in me as I was in her?

Three texts came through in rapid succession. Stealing my breath.

OLIVER:Hey dude. Hope you see this. I saw you outside The Place yesterday. I debated calling but wanted to give you space. Texting splits the difference I hope. I still feel awful about the way things went down. I realize we didn’t see eye-to-eye on the business but I didn’t know about everything else.

OLIVER:I wish you would have told me how bad things were with Cindy. I didn’t know you felt so strongly you’d just stop talking to me forever. I figured you just needed time to calm down and then we’d go back to being friends. That’s why I bought you out. Changed the name when you asked me to. But then you just split.

OLIVER:I want to connect with you again, brother. I’m sorry business got in the way of that, but I never meant for it to be the end of all of it.

I leaned against the wall, stunned.

What. The. Actual. Hell?

Was he serious? My legs grew shaky as a cold shot of adrenaline coursed through my veins. I felt like everything I knew about those final months going back and forth with him had just been upended. My chest tightened. Could it be possible? Did I have a completely skewed perspective about the situation with The Game Place? I pictured the look on Oliver’s face yesterday morning. The undeniable happiness in his expression when he first saw me.

My understanding of what I’d perceived as Oliver’s betrayal became cloudier. A new awareness of how quick I was to run away from conflict, how little I trusted people, made me wonder.

Businesses changed, and Oliver and Steve wanted to make money. They’d never wavered in that. Had I been too stubbornly attached to my idea? Too unwilling to compromise? Or so full of self-doubt that I’d taken their pushback too personally?

Had I lost a friend unnecessarily?

Another text moved me from leaning against the wall to actively slumping against it, unsteady on my feet.

OLIVER:I love you man. Always. I hope you’ll pick up the phone and call me sometime.

If my friendship with Oliver had been genuine, then my old life in Seattle had been more “real” than I wanted to admit. The problem hadn’t been the city I lived in, or the people surrounding me. It was me. My head. Always assuming the worst, or not crediting that other people could truly respect—or love—me. I hadn’t been happy because I’d never allowed myself to have faith in any happiness I felt.

Marley hadn’t been the first person in my life who’d believed in me. But she was the first person who made me trust that belief. The first person to work their way past my defenses. Just by being herself.

I trusted the desire in her eyes when she ran her hand over my soft belly. Trusted that she’d been proud to stand next to me at my reunion, no matter what happened. Trusted the authenticity of her laughter and the kindness of her smile when she looked at me.

And now that I believed it about her, the possibility of truly having faith in the good intentions of other people blossomed. My parents. Leo. Will. Travis. Perhaps even Oliver.

The door opened and Marley walked in, carrying several Walmart bags.

“I know I already have so many ornaments, but I want to do the trees tonight and I saw these on sale and I couldn’t resist—”