Chapter Four
The day dawned cold and drizzly, the kind of grey skies and steamy air that Austin didn’t see often. It felt appropriate, though. It matched Lia’s mood. The rain continued to fall until late afternoon.
She sat on the back porch, sipping tea. There was only one class on her schedule today, and technically it was a one-on-one with her independent project advisor. She had emailed him to let him know she’d be missing it and asked to reschedule.
She spent her time doing something else. Something important.
Which meant she wouldn’t go to work today, either. They hadn’t scheduled her for any paid hours, but she was going to paint the pirate ship for the kindergarten play. On her own time. She was also going to tell her boss that she’d accept the full time position as an aide and the small hourly raise it came with.
Except now…
Now all of those plans felt a million miles away, hazy and uncertain. That steam-clouded bathroom mirror was back again, standing between her and the world. But now it seemed like a good thing. The distance let her examine what she really wanted.
Standing in the middle, everything had felt locked in. Her job. Her role. Even Chris—locked in.
She heard the front door to the apartment open and glanced back through the sliding glass doors. Chris walked in, his shape indistinct. And she knew nothing was locked in, nothing at all. They were choices, and she was no longer sure they were the right ones.
Scratch that, she was sure they weren’t.
That left a pretty big landscape for her to walk and find the right one. But she would.
She stood and met Chris in the dining room. He was staring at her purse in the middle of the table, waiting for her to take it and go. Her small car was already piled high with her stuff—he couldn’t have missed it. He knew what she was doing, and he looked… tired.
“I’m sorry,” she said, because it felt right. She was sorry, that she couldn’t be what he wanted, what she’d thought she could.
He sat down at the table. “Lia.”
Just that. Her name. She sat down across from him. They were almost strangers now.
“Don’t hate me,” she said.
He grimaced. “I don’t. I couldn’t. I was being an asshole last night.”
Well, yeah. But she’d been an asshole too, even if she hadn’t exactly meant it that way. She thought he hadn’t meant it that way either. They’d both been hurt and confused and lashing out. That was okay, as long as she made it right.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen, but I just—”
“It’s okay.” He gave her a dark look that somehow made the mood lighter. “You can say his name. I’m not going to freak out. Not again.”
“Nothing happened,” she said defensively.
He sighed. “Even if it did.”
“It didn’t. There was a weird moment, that’s all. And it’s my fault for not really stopping to think about things sooner. I’ve just been so focused on graduating, on getting to this point, and then…”
“And then everything’s different.”
Those words again. They pinged inside her, and this time she knew it wasn’t annoyance she felt. It was fear. And pain. She’d liked the way things had been. Loved them. Her two best friends in the world, near her. She’d seen them both every day. Loved them both, in different ways. She couldn’t have that anymore, and it hurt like hell.
“You don’t have to leave,” he said. “I can leave.”
She shook her head. “Our lease is up soon anyway. And then, what? You’re moving to DC, right?”
He nodded. “Most likely. Now that…”
Now that they weren’t together, there was nothing to keep him here. Had she always been a weight for him, an anchor to his past while he’d been trying to move forward? Well, she was glad she wasn’t anymore. She was glad he could move to DC, unencumbered.
“Anyway, I talked to my friend. I can stay there until I graduate.”
“Where will you go after that?”
A moment passed. “I have no idea.”
He smiled. “The Lia I know always had a plan.”
Yes. The truth of that hit her in the chest—and squeezed. She was a planner. That likely wouldn’t change, not in the long run. But in this moment, in the weeks before her graduation, she wanted to drift. She wanted to look around and know that she could go anywhere. Even if she decided to stay here.
“I hope you’ll still talk to me. From DC or wherever you go.”
“Of course I will.” His eyes turned soft, more tender than they had been in years, since back when they were kids and she was a gangly pre-teen. “And you have to give me updates on you. And Ethan.”
She looked down. “I’m really not sure—”
“I am. It needed to happen. Maybe I always knew it would happen.”
“Have a crystal ball?” she teased, feeling more sad than playful. It hurt to be saying goodbye to him, and almost hurt worse that he was letting her go with his blessing. Almost as if he knew what would make her happy, who would make her happy—maybe before she did.
“No.” He met her gaze. “But I have eyes. I saw the way he looked at you.”
Her throat tightened. “And how was that?”
“The same way I did,” he said, and then she couldn’t hold back anymore. The tears fell, and one of her best friends was there to hold her and comfort her and swear that everything would turn out okay. Even though it didn’t feel like that. It felt like the end, but she didn’t know how to begin again.
* * *
In the book and the movie, the Grinch was able to right his wrong immediately. He packed a sleigh and sped over mountain peaks. But Lia had a meeting with her advisor the next day, to make up for yesterday. And then she was scheduled to work.
The school bustled with that energy she loved. Even with the students at their desks and the doors shut, Lia could feel their enthusiasm and curiosity vibrating through the air. Her low heels clicked down the rubber floors until she reached the administrative offices.
The longtime secretary sent her a warning glance and whispered, “She’s expecting you.”
“Great,” Lia said, pretending her stomach wasn’t in knots. She didn’t like disappointing anyone—especially someone she had grown to respect over her years here.
She was disappointing everyone.
Her boss stood as she entered. Melanie was a slender woman with razor sharp eyes. “Where were you yesterday?”
Lia eased the door shut behind her. The whole office didn’t need to hear this. Not that it mattered much. She’d be gone soon. “I had something personal to take care of.” Normally she would stop there. But nothing was normal anymore. “I wasn’t scheduled to work yesterday anyway.”
Melanie frowned. “The play is in a month.”
“I’ll finish the set and the costumes before then. But I won’t be here for the play itself.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m submitting my two weeks’ notice.” This was what she should have done when Melanie turned her down for the teaching position. Lia had been too scared then. She was even more scared now.
“Lia, sweetie. I see what’s happening. You’re graduating. I’m sure you were expecting a bigger raise. And maybe if I speak to the board, I can work something out. But not if you start throwing threats around. That’s not how we operate.”
“I’m not threatening anything,” she said, her voice strange and wobbly. She cleared her throat. End of an era. That’s what it felt like, through every cell of her body. Her time in college, her part time job here, Chris. Over now. “I’m quitting.”
Melanie sighed, looking much older. “Lia, you’re invaluable here. We need you.”
“No, what you need is a full time aide. But that’s not what I am anymore. I’m a teacher. Or I will be.”
In the ensuing silence, her boss leaned back in the creaky leather chair and closed her eyes. “I was afraid this would happen.”
“Then why—” Lia snapped her mouth shut.
Melanie answered anyway. “Because this is a private school with a traditional board. The first thing they’re going to ask me is how many years of experience you have, aka how many grey hairs do you have.” Her gaze flicked over Lia’s appearance with a faint smile. “Whereas you look younger than twenty two.”
Her stomach twisted. It hurt to hear why she hadn’t been in the running—even if she’d known the reason already. And the older teachers did have valuable experience, a certain confidence in the classroom that Lia admired. But Lia had things to offer too: enthusiasm and compassion. That counted for something.
Didn’t it?
“I’ve loved every minute here,” Lia said honestly.
Melanie smiled, her eyes crinkling in places they hadn’t years ago, when Lia had first started here. “There’s a classroom waiting for you.”
Relief filled her at the vote of confidence. “God, I hope so.”
“I’m sure of it. And you’ll do great.”
Lia left the school a few hours later, covered in brown and black paint. Her hair was tied in a messy bun. She must have been a mess, but she couldn’t stop. Couldn’t wait to see Ethan and tell him what she’d decided.
Couldn’t wait to ask him to join her.
She wasn’t sure how it would work out—or if it even would—but she was damn well going to try.
The parking lot of the duplex where Ethan lived was deserted, but that didn’t mean anything. He didn’t have a roommate, but the guy renting the other unit hung around all the time. He had joked that he was Ethan’s foster friend, someone to hang out with when Chris and Lia were busy. She’d always hated that joke.
But he sometimes borrowed Ethan’s truck, so maybe Ethan was home. Even if he wasn’t, she knew where he kept the spare key. She’d wait inside.
Knocking met with silence. She pulled the key from under the basic Welcome mat and stepped inside.
To an empty apartment.
His lumpy couch was still here and his gouged dining table with the mismatched chairs. On the surface it could have been any other day, but she felt the difference. The emptiness was more than his absence. It felt… permanent. Which was crazy, of course. Ethan wasn’t going anywhere—especially not without telling her.
Unless he really was really mad at her, far more than she had suspected. Unless he hated her. Unless he thought their friendship was over, which seemed worst of all.
She crossed the threshold to the other unit and banged on the door. “Hey! Open up!”
A few minutes later, a bleary eyed bachelor opened the door. “Seriously, it’s eight in the morning.”
“It’s four in the afternoon,” she said impatiently. “And I need to talk to Ethan.”
“So call him.”
She had, last night. And again this morning. He was clearly more than busy. He was avoiding her. “Do you know where he is? It’s important.”
Ethan’s neighbor scratched his head. “I know where he’s not.”
Lia blew out a frustrated breath, tempted to give this guy her drugs-are-bad lecture just because he was annoying her. “Yeah, he’s not home.”
“Nah, that’s what I mean. He left. Packed his dog and his shit and hit the road.”
She’d never quite understood the expression of the jaw dropping. Until now. Her mouth opened, in shock, in horror. He’d really, actually gone without a word to her. “Where’d he go?”
“No idea. But I heard him talking to the landlord. I don’t think he’s coming back.”