Chapter Thirty-Eight
Jaimie
Despite my offer to nurse Braxton back to health, he spent much of the following week recovering at home. Apart from a single Skype conversation over coffee one morning before work, we didn’t have much time to hang out. “I guess this is one of the drawbacks of leaving FAF,” I told him. “I can’t come over to watch you train and get compensated for it.”
“Perhaps it’s for the best,” said Braxton. “I wouldn’t want you to get sick of me.”
“Me? Never.” I held onto my mug with both hands. “I don’t see you nearly enough.”
At work, I was still settling into my new responsibilities, and finding Eleanor a valuable ally. On Tuesday, the head of H. R. resigned in a harassment scandal, and she was given the unenviable task of interviewing any women who had worked with him during the preceding three and a half years. Before I left work that afternoon, she asked if I would assist her “for moral support,” and we spent the next several mornings together sipping cider in the conference room.
I learned that she had been engaged the year before until she learned that her fiancé was a notorious swindler who had planned to abscond to Florida with her life savings. “You can’t imagine how hard it is to learn to trust again,” she said, “when your best friend betrays you like that.”
“I think I have an idea.” Without going into the full story, I explained to her that I had once dated a man who tried to seduce half my friends. “Unless you’ve known someone for five, ten years, and maybe not even then, it’s hard to know who you can trust. At some point, you just have to take a leap of faith that your loved ones aren’t scheming to murder you behind your back.”
“I know!” said Eleanor, peering down at the long table from behind her thick glasses. “Back before I was engaged, I used to love reading romance novels, but now the only books that hold my attention are mysteries.”
“Girl, same.” There was a box of cake pops sitting on the table. I reached for one and held onto the stem, chewing thoughtfully. “I think that’s why the third Before movie is my favorite.”
“I still can’t bring myself to watch that one.”
“It’s brutal. My boyfriend and I just watched the first two, but I think we might save the third one until we’re engaged.”
“How long have you been dating?”
“Only about a month, actually. I know it seems crazy to be talking about engagement this early in the relationship, but we’re pretty crazy about each other.”
“My great-grandparents both immigrated to Texas from Germany,” said Eleanor. “They grew up in Fredericksburg and met when she was sixteen, and he was seventeen. He went out to a dance with a friend one night—he didn’t even want to go, he had been planning to stay home—and by the end of the night, he and my granny were in love. They were engaged within two weeks and married within a month.”
“That was surprisingly common back in the day. I remember reading the Little House books and being amazed at how early Laura married. Of course, Almanzo was, like, in his forties.”
“It probably helped that back then your dating pool was limited to the boys in your community,” said Eleanor. “I sometimes wonder if we get married later because there are so many more options. The ability to meet hundreds of strangers on Tinder paralyzes us.”
“Well, yeah, because what if you meet the wrong person? Back in the pioneer days, all a girl wanted was a man with a steady job. Now we want a soulmate, a business partner, and a sex partner, and we want them all in the same person. My boyfriend will never be everything to me, and I’m learning to be okay with that.”
“But you obviously seem to like him.”
“I do. Braxton is kind of a dork, but he’s handsome and kind and surprisingly thoughtful, and I love him.”
Eleanor smiled, though her eyes betrayed a hint of melancholy. “If only we could all be so lucky,” she said.
I left work shortly before five pm. Already the air was beginning to cool, and a light breeze played with my hair as I walked through the parking lot to my car. Alarmed by the sight of a silhouetted figure standing in front of it, I froze in my tracks; but fear gave way to relief a moment later when I realized it was only Braxton.
“Sorry if I scared you,” he said, smiling.
“I’m just glad it was you and not some other boy. Anyway, what are you doing hanging around in the parking lot? Shouldn’t you be at home resting?”
“You would think. I was lying on the sofa, cat napping on my chest, when I glanced at the clock and realized you would be headed home soon.”
“I hope you didn’t disturb a cat’s nap just for my sake.”
“He’ll forgive me this one time. Besides,” he added, reaching for my hand, “it’s Friday, and I promised you I would take you out this week when I started to feel better. And I’m feeling better now.”
“Are you? Are you sure you’re not dying?”
“Not even a little. I feel better than I have in days.”
I examined his face, looking unconvinced. The bruise above his eye was still the same color and roughly the same size as a walnut. “Braxton, I love you, but you’re not looking your best.”
“As long as you don’t mind, I don’t see what it matters.” Motioning to his truck, he added, “You ready?”
“What, are we leaving now?” I asked, incredulous. “I’m not even dressed yet.”
“You look dressed to me.” He took me by one hand and drew me close. “Where do you want to go tonight?”
“Oh, I don’t know. I would say Fish City Grill, but we always go there. I’ve been craving egg rolls but also pork chops? Is there a place that serves both of those things?”
“Maybe there is, and maybe there’s not.” He opened the door of the truck. “But either way we’ll have an adventure finding it.”
“As long as you don’t care that I’m dressed for a business luncheon.” I walked around the back of the truck and climbed in beside him.