Welcome to Envy Park (9 page)

"Did the phone do something bad?"
I said to Liam, but he had already run off.

"Sorry about that," Sarah said,
leaning forward, as if to pick up the phone, and then she changed
her mind. "Did he bother you?"

"No, he didn’t."

"You’re single, right,
Moira?"

I tried to remember if we had ever
talked about it, me and Sarah. But it showed in my lifestyle
anyway. Whenever I passed by the lobby during Liam’s playtime I was
in sweats, going out with a small, empty canvas bag and coming back
with groceries obviously for one. "Yup," I said.

Sarah looked like she wanted to
cry, but from anger, or frustration. "Enjoy it. You really, really
should. I’m hating myself now for all the time I spent wishing I
were in a relationship."

This wasn’t about me, obviously. It was about her,
and her husband who wasn’t nearby, and the phone that got hurt in
the process. I really didn’t know much about her, so I felt I
couldn’t say anything except generic positive sentiments.

"Long-distance relationships are
tough," I ended up saying.

Sarah was apparently a year
younger than me, but she acted and seemed much older. I thought it
was the haircut (low-maintenance bob that reminded me of my mom’s
haircut when I was a kid), but it might actually have been the
weight of her regrets. "It might not be the distance. I just might
have married a douche."

"Well..."

"I’m serious." Sarah shook her
head and swiped the phone from the floor. "Why would I want to be
with someone who chooses to parent my son on Skype and gets off
telling me what I’m doing wrong? When I’m actually
here
for every damn
thing?"

David made enough at his job that Sarah didn’t need
to work. She was a full-time mom and in happier moods (last week
was the latest one) she would say things during our short talks
that made me think she chose this life. She wanted to stay
home.

"But then you wouldn’t be able to
live here," I said, remembering what Ashley said. "NV Park’s great,
but expensive."

Sarah shrugged. "It’s a building.
I would have been happy anywhere with him."

Did she mean that? She couldn’t possibly. I looked
over at Liam running between two security guards and thought that
this was a safe and secure environment for a child to grow up in.
Sure, Sarah was having her own problems, but the solution in her
mind right now, while closing the door, would just open
windows.

I wished her well and went off on my errand.

-/\/\/\-

"Are you done?" Ethan asked
me.

In fact I didn’t work out that night at all, but he
couldn’t tell probably because I was in sweatpants, as usual. I was
sitting on the bench, the same one he had occupied when he
surprised me the other night.

I sat there just thinking. Earlier I had emailed him
back, saying yes to the interview, offering a schedule sometime
next week or earlier at their convenience, thanking him for being
such a nice friend.

"So how was your talk with Rin?" I
asked. I had bailed out of dinner early and didn’t get to confront
him about anything. Not that I should.

He wasn’t dressed for a workout.
He sat on the other end of the bench, facing the mirror too. It was
a safe distance, far enough to send a clear signal that there would
be no touching, close enough for me to hear him let out his breath
long and slow. "What did Ashley tell you?"

"Things. Does she lie about
things?"

He shook his head. "No, she’s very
honest. And she means well."

"So it just seems to me like it’s
a bit complicated for you right now."

For some reason it was easier to look his reflection
in the mirror in the eye, instead of his actual eye. He probably
felt the same way.

"It’s really not," Ethan said.
"People just like to think it is."

"So what’s the simple
explanation?"

"Ashley has ideas about what Rin
needs from me. We had a proper breakup. I didn’t cheat. I still try
to talk to her at work. But Ashley has ideas about what
everyone
needs from me.
My family is...they have opinions."

There was a frustration in his voice, and it crept
down his arm, through his hand, and showed up again in the fingers
that he ran through his hair. It reminded me of how I had wanted to
do that, and how I might never. I cleared my throat.

"Nice of you to share, but I meant
the other thing. That you’re leaving too."

"Oh. Right. Yeah. I don’t know
when though."

"Interesting that you didn’t bring
it up at all."

He shrugged. "This project is
taking forever. I really don’t know how long I’ll be
here."

"But obviously there’s a timeline,
right? How long is your lease here?"

"It’s renewed every two
weeks."

That was very...not permanent. My
face fell, I knew it. I hoped he didn’t notice. "Well then. Were
you planning to ever mention it?"

"That I’m leaving? I don’t know
when that would actually be."

I wanted to say that I was feeling
a tiny bit foolish, for going on and on about my
plan
, about
leaving
, about
absolutely being in Thailand or Cambodia or Hong
Kong by June or six months or one year or else
. And yet there he was on a two-week lease thinking that it
wasn’t worth a shoutout. "You’re right," I said, because I was
mature that way, "You didn’t have to say anything. I mean, we just
met. You don’t even talk to neighbors. You didn’t have to share
your relocation plans with me, of course."

"Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy
talking about your plans with you," Ethan said, "but I’m not like
that. I wasn’t sure when I was leaving, so I didn’t say it. People
made a big deal when I was about to leave in November and look...
I’m still here. It’s awkward."

How odd. Had I ever been in that situation? When I
quit my first job, I just did it, and didn’t come back. When I said
I’d be in another country by a certain date, I just did it. Part of
every plan of mine involved knowing it would happen, that I would
make it happen, and that it would happen on my schedule.

I wasn’t a leaf in the wind. I was the wind.

I guess some people weren’t like that, and they were
fine with it.

"I think you’re great," he said,
suddenly, and it seemed to have surprised even him. "And that’s
actually why I feel bad about what I did."

"The job interview?"

"No. That I kissed
you."

"Oh." Topic swing. "Well, no,
don’t feel
bad
about it..."

"I wanted to do it. I just didn’t
know how it would go. Because I knew that I’d have to have this
conversation with you."

He turned to face me, my actual
face, and I did the same. "So let’s have it," I said.

"Do you want to start something,
knowing that you and I are leaving? At some point?"

Not exactly the most romantic of
questions, but compared to George the Ex’s "so you wanna...?" this
seemed positively Shakespearean. And I was impressed that he
brought it up, because it was precisely the conversation I wanted
to have, except I didn’t know yet how to articulate it. But it was
the thing that occupied my mind since seeing Sarah and Liam at the
lobby, and it was the reason why I sat there waiting for him,
giving up the pretense of working out.

I had a feeling it wasn’t going to
work. I was set on my plan. I had been
planning
the plan for a year, at
least. It wasn’t fair to expect either of us to adjust; we barely
knew each other. If we were less
mature
, more
impulsive
, maybe we would have tried
it, and then we’d be more deeply into each other once the
inevitable separation happened (of course we would be), and we’d
have tearful airport goodbyes, and promise to be faithful despite
being on separate continents, and then fail at it...

Or it could just be this.

"I think you’re great, and you’re
really good-looking, and you seem to like food-tripping with me,
which is a major plus," I said, "And that was a good kiss.
But."

He nodded. "Okay."

"Yeah. But. We’re both on our way
out from here. It just seems easier if we just get a fresh start
wherever we end up."

"Okay." Ethan looked disappointed.
That was flattering. He probably didn’t intend for me to see it. If
he did, bless him. "You’re fine with dinner, still, sometimes,
right? I miss having friends here."

I laughed. "You should be nicer to
people."

"It’s not easy."

"Yes, we can still have dinner.
But not tonight. I think we’ve talked enough for today."

"Yes, of course. Well, good
night." Before I knew it he had slid the rest of the gap between us
on the bench and kissed me, again. To the credit of my lips and
tongue and other relevant body parts, I accepted it with poise and
grace, no awkwardness. It was like my body knew how to react around
him now, when it shouldn’t have mattered, wouldn’t have
mattered...

Make friends. Make some money. The plan has not
changed.

Moment ove... wait.

Just another...

Okay, moment over.

"Good night," I said. "We probably
shouldn’t do that again."

"I know," Ethan said. "I
just...Yeah. Good night."

Chapter 12

My life did
not
screech to a halt once Ethan and
I decided to not become something. In fact, things in my life moved
along just fine even after. Two of my applications to the foreign
employers got responses. One of them scheduled a phone interview
for a vague period in the next three weeks ("when the boss comes
back from London") and the other assured me that I was very
qualified and asked me to formalize my application by creating an
account in the NGO’s career portal. I would be getting calls soon.
The Real Job was there, somewhere.

In the meantime, my interview at Beckett, Ethan’s
office, for a Not-Real Job was set a few days from now. I had time
to prepare.

So when my mom called to remind me to get a job and
a water heater, I was actually able to say that I made progress in
both areas.

"Are you coming to see us this
weekend?" she asked.

"Well, not if you really want me
to get this ugly heater installed
now.
Why?"

"We’re thinking of going to Subic.
Come along with us?"

"No thank you," I said
automatically. I honestly didn’t think about it and declined—it
just came out. "I’d like to get some things done this
weekend."

"It’s like you’re still in another
country, Moi. We never see you."

"Hey, I moved back to the exact
same city. You two moved away."

"Is everything all right? Any
reason why you don’t want to see us? Are you pregnant?"

"You wish."

"A little. Just in case you were
hiding from shame, don’t. I had you when I was twenty-seven, you
know."

I did know, because she mentioned it maybe seven
thousand times previously. My mom had a boyfriend since high
school, someone my grandparents approved of, and wanted her to
marry. Ten years later and this guy hadn’t proposed marriage, gave
no indication of ever wanting to do it, so she dumped him, dated my
dad, got pregnant, and was married to him all within a six-month
period.

Strangely enough, the moral of this story had always
been that it was the best decision of her life. We may have had our
differences but she was always supportive of all my efforts to
change things up, and be somewhere else.

She did wish I were pregnant, for sure. It would
give her one less thing to plan on my behalf.

"I’ve actually been working out
more," I told her. "When you next see me, you’ll be disappointed at
how fit I am."

"Did you get my text about the job
at Yoly’s?"

"I did," I said, gritting my teeth
through that answer because I had already deleted it. "I’ll get
back to you on that."

"Are you sure? Because she’ll be
near NV Park on Sunday—"

"I’ll be busy on Sunday, Mom, but
I’ll let you know if I can meet her."

Which was going to be never, unfortunately, but I
had a feeling she knew that immediately too.

Once the Beckett interview sked was set, Ethan made
dinner plans with me for the night before, to help me prepare for
it. I agreed cheerfully, but also decided not to make plans with
him for any day or night in between. Didn’t want to appear all
needy.

What did I just say about closing doors and opening
windows?

On Tuesday, two days before the
interview, one day before my next "date" with Just My Neighbor
Ethan, I ran into JM at the mail room. He was picking up his stash,
which looked mostly like the pile of snail mail spam I got (food
delivery, massage, laundry service flyers), but he was doing it
with such ease that I felt somewhat proud.

"You’re an expert," I couldn’t
help but say.