Lucky in Love (20 page)

“One more down and a hundred or so to go...” I sighed, as I peered around my room. Still, I felt up to the task and quickly sprang back into action, starting by taping and stacking all of the boxes that were already filled. Once I had established what was actually done already, tackling the rest no longer seemed as daunting.  It was just after midnight, when I taped up the final box and fell back onto my bed, now stripped of nearly everything but the bare necessities, and fell into a deep and dreamless sleep.

The Night Before

             
It was
Thursday morning. Gabe was sitting in his room staring at the bare walls and his empty closet. Aside from what was in the few bags which were packed as full as they could possibly go, he had forced himself to shed all of his possessions. It hadn’t been easy at first, but the further he pushed himself, the easier it became, until at last, he began to see everything old he threw out as an opportunity to get something new. Those feelings of excitement from change and the prospect of new beginnings had fueled him throughout the week. However, now that he was sitting on a duffel bag containing all that he owned, the anxiety started to creep in, and with it, the doubts. Questions he had been forcing out of his mind ever since he had agreed to move to NY were slowly forcing their way back in. Questions like: “What the hell am I thinking?!” and “Why am I leaving my home, my friends and my family?” The answer was clear. It was Janette. Only he had a nagging feeling, that somehow it wouldn’t be enough.

Before he could dwell on his fears any more, Noah came and stood in his doorway. He was eating a bowl of cereal as he assessed the empty room.

“Looks like you're all packed,” he said, fully aware that he was stating the obvious.

Gabe nodded, “Pretty much.” Then he stood up and took one last look in his closet, although he had already checked it three times that morning.

“What time is your flight?” Noah asked, bemused by Gabe’s behavior.

With his head still in the closet, he answered, “Not 'til 5:30.” Then Gabe pulled his head back out to look at Noah, “You coming to the airport?”

Noah shook his head.              “No, I'll just tell you bye here...I don't want you to see me cry.” He grinned at Gabe, who clearly wasn’t amused.

“Hey, I had something in my eye,” Gabe said, automatically lifting his hand to his right eye and rubbing it.

“Sure you did,” Noah replied sarcastically, as he put another spoonful of cereal into his mouth.

“Man, forget you.  I’m an emotional person, I care about people and sometimes...I cry,” Gabe said, sounding slightly more exasperated than he had intended to.

“Of course,” Noah agreed, still grinning.

Eager to change the topic of conversation, Gabe took a few steps away from his closet and over toward Noah.

“What about you?” Gabe asked him curiously.

“I don't cry,” he replied dryly.

“No, I mean what's going on with your living situation?  Have you found a place yet?” Determined to get past the crying incident, he let Noah’s last dig at him slide as though he hadn’t even registered it.

“Nope,” Noah mumbled with his mouth full.

“Why not?” Gabe was looking at him with a mixture of intrigue and shock. Noah just shrugged his shoulders.

“I'm not sure...might be because I'm not looking, though.” He was stabbing his empty spoon at the air as though it might help reinforce his point.

“What?” Gabe was starting to think Noah was messing with him. Surely, he had at least started looking for a place. Although, the more he thought about it, he hadn’t seen Noah with a single box yet. As though Noah was reading his mind, he began to explain.

“Look, Lucky is just having some weird crisis and she thinks she needs to make all these changes, but when the time comes for her to go through with it all, she will see that there is no way she could ever sell this house and leave this place!”

Gabe was looking at him carefully. There was a certainty in Noah’s voice that made him a little nervous. Not for himself, but for his friend. Could he really be in such denial over what was happening before his very eyes? Quietly he said, “I think you're wrong.  She's really going to do this, Noah. And if you're not careful you might end up homeless.”

But Noah wouldn’t accept it. Instead he shook his head at Gabe as though he were the fool amongst the two of them and said, “It's going to be fine.  You'll see.” Then he shot Gabe a knowing grin and walked out of the room.

The next few hours seemed to pass in slow motion. It wasn’t until Gabe and Jason were loading his bags into the back of my SUV that time started to speed up as though it were racing itself. Noah stood by and watched as we put away Gabe’s bags. It wasn’t until after Gabe made his final walk through of the house, that Noah decided it was time to acknowledge what was happening. Noah and Gabe shared a brief goodbye, followed by an even briefer hug that ended with a manly slap on the back and a knuckle bump. Just like that, it was time to go. True to his word, Noah stayed behind, as Jason and I headed to the airport to give Gabe a proper send off.

It was less than a week later, when I picked up a “do-it-yourself” moving truck. With Jason and Tara’s help, I was able to cram every last piece of my belongings inside it in one day. Since I was left with nothing but a small bag containing the essentials and an old quilt for the night, Jason and Tara offered several times to have me come and spend my final night with them. Not ready to part with the home that I had spent a lifetime in, I declined.

At first I thought, ok, secretly wished, that somehow this could provide some sort of opportunity for Noah and me to reconcile. Given that there was no longer any furniture, cable TV or internet, I thought that we would have little else to do and that we would essentially be forced into some sort of conversation. These turned out to be foolish assumptions on my part. As it turned out, Noah had plenty of things to do. More importantly, he was choosing to do them somewhere else.

I spent most of the night wandering from empty room to empty room, reminiscing and saying silent goodbye’s as I passed through them. Then I arrived at the end of the hall. Noah’s room was the last door on the left. It was shut. Normally, I would never have dreamed of invading his privacy and entering his room while he was away, but given the circumstances, I felt like it wasn’t likely that he would care. He certainly wouldn’t know about it.

I started to open the door, when I felt it catch on something lying on the floor. In the dark it was hard to make out what was obstructing it, so I reached around the corner and fumbled around for the light switch. Once I flipped it, my jaw dropped and I stood there frozen in place. Noah’s room was completely untouched. Not only had he not packed a single thing, but judging by the pile of clothes the door had gotten caught in, he also hadn’t done laundry or picked up in quite a while either. I was stunned. What could he possibly be thinking? My first instinct was to run from the room in tears. Tears out of frustration and hurt at the fact that Noah had so blatantly ignored what I had said and the changes the rest of us were making. Then, just before I made it out of the room, anger set in. The more I thought about it, the more outraged I became by his total disregard for what was going on in the world around him. After all, I had told him in person what was happening. I had also left multiple notes throughout the house over the last few weeks, keeping everyone updated on everything that was going to be happening in regard to the house we had all lived in. Most recently, I had posted the contract I had signed with my realtor, Shelly, announcing to everyone still around, that the house would be going on the market. In fact, she had promised to be there with the “for sale” sign first thing the coming morning.

Fueled by my growing fury, I stomped through Noah’s room and went straight for his closet. I yanked down the duffel bags he kept up on the top shelf and quickly began packing them with whatever was within my reach. When I ran out of space in the bags, I ran from the room to the kitchen to retrieve some trash bags so I could continue packing. Three and a half hours later, Noah’s walls were bare and his closet was empty. I was just tying up the last of the trash bags, when I heard the front door open downstairs. With a final “huff”, I tossed the bag into the corner with the rest, before I turned off the light and left the room. I had spent the last few hours cursing Noah. Had thought of all the things he had done that had pissed me off and chewed him out repeatedly under my breath. Now that he was finally home, I found that I had nothing left to say to him. So, rather than engage in yet another pointless battle, I wandered down the hall to the other end and went straight into my room. Without bothering to turn on any lights or even change into my pajamas, I just laid down on the floor with my pillow and quilt and went to sleep. Just as I was dozing off, I heard Noah come up the stairs and turn down the hall to his bedroom. Then the door creaked open and the light switched on.

“What the hell?!” he yelled. For a moment I anticipated his feet thundering toward my room, but they never came. Instead, I heard the door slam shut as he continued to curse, just loud enough so I could hear him.

The next morning I wasted no time getting ready. My shower which usually took a good twenty minutes, was cut down to less than five. I skipped the hair drying and shaving and moved straight to brushing my teeth. Ten minutes later, I was standing in the kitchen fully clothed and with my last little bag in hand.

Since I had said my goodbye’s to the house the night before, there really wasn’t much left to do before I could hit the road. The grand finale was taking the house key from my key chain and leaving it behind on the kitchen counter. I felt strange and detached as I watched my own hand remove the key as I prepared to leave it and this house I had called home for so many years behind. Unwilling to face the feeling I was sure would build up momentarily, I spun around and began marching towards the front door. I stopped sharp in the living room. There on the mantle, sitting all alone was Grandma Pearl. I hadn’t had it in me to move her until now. I stood there for a long while, staring across the room at the urn. I became so completely fixated on it and the task of picking it up and taking it from this house that I didn’t even hear Noah come down the stairs. Nor did I notice as he stopped just a few feet away from me to watch. Finally he broke the silence.

“Can’t do it, can you.”

As if jerked out of a deep sleep, I whipped my head around, shocked by the sound of someone else’s voice.

“What are you doing here?” I sputtered.

“I live here, remember?” he replied rather quietly. He was strangely calm given the current status between us. This only seemed to remind me of my anger from the previous night.

“No, you don’t! You’re moving out! Remember?!” I snapped back at him, my tone somewhat harsher than I had intended. Then, suddenly motivated by my intense desire to prove him wrong, I stomped across the room and straight over to the fireplace. Before I lifted the urn, I turned around to glare at Noah just to be sure that he was watching me. Moments later I had left the house and Noah, and pulled the door shut behind me.  With my bag in one hand and cradling Grandma Pearl in the other, I kept on moving without stopping until I reached the truck. I fumbled for the keys for far longer than I would have liked for my dramatic exit, but finally managed to get the door open and climb up into the driver’s seat.

By the time I was all settled, my heart was no longer beating in my throat and I was able to concentrate on the task at hand, which was trying to make a successful three point turn in a truck towing my SUV. It turned into more like seven points, but eventually I managed to get turned around. As I drove away from the house, I allowed myself one last glance in the side mirror. I hadn’t noticed before, but the “For Sale” sign had been put on the front lawn already. Right behind it, stood Noah. Alone and surrounded by a pile of duffels and trash bags.  It took everything I had not to stop the truck right then and there.

Me And Lucky?

Weeks passed.
I settled into my new apartment, which I thought was beautiful the moment I saw it. The floor plan was nice and open, with a cozy little fireplace in the living room and good sized eat-in kitchen. My bedroom was the loft above, which had skylights and large windows on both sides of the room. I even had a view of the nearby mountains. It was one of those windows with a view that I chose as the perfect new spot for Grandma Pearl. The windowsill was just wide enough for her and I liked knowing that she was close by, when I went to sleep at night. Somehow, learning to live alone had been a lot harder than I had anticipated. At one point, I found myself half tempted to get a cat, just to have another body in the place. I was halfway to the animal shelter, when I remembered Jason was allergic…and all the way back home, before I realized that didn’t exactly matter at this point.

The new school was amazing. The building was new and very well equipped with anything and everything a teacher might need. The books were in great shape and no one had scribbled on the covers or ripped out the pages. Even more impressive than that, were the students. With only ten to fifteen students at a time, I had much more time to spend with each of them. Learning their strengths and their interests gave me a whole new outlook on teaching. The other teachers were nice, too. I was even starting to make new friends. The only problem was I missed my old ones. I kept in constant contact with Tara and Jason. Between the two of them, it was easy. If I hadn’t heard from the one, I would get a call from the other. Gabe was sending me random text messages at all hours of the day and night, and I found comfort in the fact that in spite of the distance, things between us hadn’t changed much. The only one I hadn’t heard from was Noah. Not that I had expected to, especially after the way we left things. Still, sooner or later, I knew one of us would have to give in and make the call. I was just hoping it wouldn’t have to be me.