Cream of the Crop
Page 85
He left that night, driving back upstate. He didn’t tell me he loved me. He didn’t need to.
I knew.
Chapter 20
But I didn’t know what would happen next. Was it over? Were we over? Did it have to be all or nothing?
I didn’t know these rules. I knew men, but I didn’t know what happened when people were invested. This was beyond me.
I didn’t talk to Oscar for three days. No texts, no calls, no contact of any kind. In the past few weeks, we’d chatted almost every day. Sometimes it was a quick call to confirm what train I was on. Sometimes it was a stolen moment to tell him about something funny that had happened at work. Sometimes he’d call right before he went to sleep. And though he didn’t use flowery words, when he said, “Sweet dreams, Pinup,” it was better than almost anything.
When I woke up Thursday morning still with no call or text, I felt . . . alone. Really alone.
I was usually surrounded by laughing, smiling, chatting people—at work, after-work cocktails, nights out on the town, weekends filled with brunches and lunches and clubs and parties. And this week had been no exception. I’d worked my ass off, spent time with friends I hadn’t seen in weeks, and kept my social calendar full.
So why was I feeling so alone?
No Oscar.
And I didn’t like it one bit.
Thursday afternoon I bit the bullet and called him myself, no longer waiting for his call.
“Hey,” was his answer when he picked up.
“Hey to you,” I said, my voice already tense. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy but good. You?”
“Good,” I said, twisting a lock of hair around my finger. “I haven’t heard from you once this week.”
He sighed. “I haven’t heard from you, either.” He had a point. “I was meaning to call, it’s just been—”
“Busy, I know. I’ve been busy, too.”
More silence. I’d never felt the need to fill the silence before, but this felt awful. “I got a rough cut of the first Bailey Falls commercial; it’s looking pretty good. Still needs a lot of work and the music will be different, but it’s going in the right direction.”
“That’s great,” he said softly.
“Yeah. I can show you this weekend, if you want. You can get the gist of it from—”
“This weekend?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I figured I’d see you,” I replied, my voice getting higher than I would have liked it. “At the market, at least.”
“I won’t be there this weekend.”
“You’re not coming to the market?” I asked, disbelieving.
“Now that it’s winter we only come in once a month, and we’re not scheduled again until after Thanksgiving.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my finger twisting in my hair so hard it was starting to hurt. “So, when will I see you?”
“It’s a busy time right now, even though it seems like it would slow down when winter comes. I’ve got repairs I put off all summer; the cows are getting ready to come indoors for longer than they’re used to, and lots of prep needs to happen for that; it’s just—”
“Busy.” I deliberately lightened my tone. “Yeah, I’ve got tons of work blowing up, too. I’ve got some new campaigns I’ll be working on soon, with the Bailey Falls job winding down. Yeah. Lots to do.”
“Yeah,” he said. He sounded a little . . . sad? “Anyway, I’ve got to go to football practice now. The kids have been winning all their games, and now’s the time to put a little more pressure on them so they don’t slack off.”
“Oh, sure. Well—”
“Talk to you later, Natalie,” he said, and hung up.
I had chosen this. I had made this decision. I couldn’t be the woman he needed. He needed a muffin maker, a clothes washer, an all-in kind of girl who would be willing to give up a part of herself to be there for him. I could not, would not, do that.
Willing myself not to cry, I flicked on the fan in the corner, drying my eyeballs until I could go back to work.
I talked to Oscar two more times that week, twice the week after that, and then it was an entire week before I spoke to him again. Not once did he mention trying to get together.
When I talked to Roxie one night, she told me he was crankier than ever, barely speaking when he was in town.
That’s how it goes, I suppose.
I worked back into my routine; well, part of my routine. I didn’t go out nearly as much, but that was okay. I couldn’t conceive of meeting anyone new. Flirting with a guy seemed unappealing at best, gross at worst, and the last thing I wanted was to pick up a random guy. I worked a lot. I talked to Roxie, I talked to Clara, and I spent more and more of the weekend at my parents’, needing some familiarity while I worked myself over.
Did I make the right decision? Could I have considered, just considered, the idea of trying to make things work with Oscar?
“You sure as hell could have tried,” a voice said, and I blinked, confused.
“Huh?” I turned around on my perch in the window to see my mother standing there, holding a teacup.
“Should you have considered the idea of making things work with Oscar? Yes. The answer to that is yes.” She shook her head at me, handing me the cup. “Drink this. It’s green tea, you need the antioxidants.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know I—”
“Said it out loud? You did; you’ve always said things out loud when you’re working yourself over.”
I knew.
Chapter 20
But I didn’t know what would happen next. Was it over? Were we over? Did it have to be all or nothing?
I didn’t know these rules. I knew men, but I didn’t know what happened when people were invested. This was beyond me.
I didn’t talk to Oscar for three days. No texts, no calls, no contact of any kind. In the past few weeks, we’d chatted almost every day. Sometimes it was a quick call to confirm what train I was on. Sometimes it was a stolen moment to tell him about something funny that had happened at work. Sometimes he’d call right before he went to sleep. And though he didn’t use flowery words, when he said, “Sweet dreams, Pinup,” it was better than almost anything.
When I woke up Thursday morning still with no call or text, I felt . . . alone. Really alone.
I was usually surrounded by laughing, smiling, chatting people—at work, after-work cocktails, nights out on the town, weekends filled with brunches and lunches and clubs and parties. And this week had been no exception. I’d worked my ass off, spent time with friends I hadn’t seen in weeks, and kept my social calendar full.
So why was I feeling so alone?
No Oscar.
And I didn’t like it one bit.
Thursday afternoon I bit the bullet and called him myself, no longer waiting for his call.
“Hey,” was his answer when he picked up.
“Hey to you,” I said, my voice already tense. “How’ve you been?”
“Good. Busy but good. You?”
“Good,” I said, twisting a lock of hair around my finger. “I haven’t heard from you once this week.”
He sighed. “I haven’t heard from you, either.” He had a point. “I was meaning to call, it’s just been—”
“Busy, I know. I’ve been busy, too.”
More silence. I’d never felt the need to fill the silence before, but this felt awful. “I got a rough cut of the first Bailey Falls commercial; it’s looking pretty good. Still needs a lot of work and the music will be different, but it’s going in the right direction.”
“That’s great,” he said softly.
“Yeah. I can show you this weekend, if you want. You can get the gist of it from—”
“This weekend?”
“Well, yeah. I mean, I figured I’d see you,” I replied, my voice getting higher than I would have liked it. “At the market, at least.”
“I won’t be there this weekend.”
“You’re not coming to the market?” I asked, disbelieving.
“Now that it’s winter we only come in once a month, and we’re not scheduled again until after Thanksgiving.”
“Oh,” I whispered, my finger twisting in my hair so hard it was starting to hurt. “So, when will I see you?”
“It’s a busy time right now, even though it seems like it would slow down when winter comes. I’ve got repairs I put off all summer; the cows are getting ready to come indoors for longer than they’re used to, and lots of prep needs to happen for that; it’s just—”
“Busy.” I deliberately lightened my tone. “Yeah, I’ve got tons of work blowing up, too. I’ve got some new campaigns I’ll be working on soon, with the Bailey Falls job winding down. Yeah. Lots to do.”
“Yeah,” he said. He sounded a little . . . sad? “Anyway, I’ve got to go to football practice now. The kids have been winning all their games, and now’s the time to put a little more pressure on them so they don’t slack off.”
“Oh, sure. Well—”
“Talk to you later, Natalie,” he said, and hung up.
I had chosen this. I had made this decision. I couldn’t be the woman he needed. He needed a muffin maker, a clothes washer, an all-in kind of girl who would be willing to give up a part of herself to be there for him. I could not, would not, do that.
Willing myself not to cry, I flicked on the fan in the corner, drying my eyeballs until I could go back to work.
I talked to Oscar two more times that week, twice the week after that, and then it was an entire week before I spoke to him again. Not once did he mention trying to get together.
When I talked to Roxie one night, she told me he was crankier than ever, barely speaking when he was in town.
That’s how it goes, I suppose.
I worked back into my routine; well, part of my routine. I didn’t go out nearly as much, but that was okay. I couldn’t conceive of meeting anyone new. Flirting with a guy seemed unappealing at best, gross at worst, and the last thing I wanted was to pick up a random guy. I worked a lot. I talked to Roxie, I talked to Clara, and I spent more and more of the weekend at my parents’, needing some familiarity while I worked myself over.
Did I make the right decision? Could I have considered, just considered, the idea of trying to make things work with Oscar?
“You sure as hell could have tried,” a voice said, and I blinked, confused.
“Huh?” I turned around on my perch in the window to see my mother standing there, holding a teacup.
“Should you have considered the idea of making things work with Oscar? Yes. The answer to that is yes.” She shook her head at me, handing me the cup. “Drink this. It’s green tea, you need the antioxidants.”
“Sorry, I didn’t know I—”
“Said it out loud? You did; you’ve always said things out loud when you’re working yourself over.”
