Thank You for Holding Page 16

Anyway, the muggy laundry room with its peeling green paint feels about right today. There are no chairs, but if I sit on the machine, the steady vibration and rocking motion might just distract me for a few minutes.

My new boyfriend, Kenmore. I can set the dial to Large Load. Ha.

I pull out my other boyfriend, Smartphone. The one who is such good company, always willing to entertain or inform me, any time of day or night. You’re never alone when you have an iPhone.

I press SHD in my contacts list.

“Hi Daddy, it’s me.” During the meeting at work, Dad texted me. I couldn’t deal with him then. Laundry time is down time, perfect for calling home.

“Carrie Baby! Hold on!” He holds the receiver away from his mouth. “Yes, thank you, Mrs. Patterson, and don’t forget you can store wet brushes in the freezer overnight! Saves on cleanup! Come in again soon!” My dad’s sentences always seem to end in exclamation points.

“Sorry, baby,” he says. “Busy day — fall is fix-up-your-house time!”

“I know, Daddy,” I smile. “I can almost smell the paint.”

“Remember when we used that slogan in our ads? ‘Wake up and smell the fresh paint!’ But then it turned out that some people hate that smell.” He chuckles.

My parents own Shelton’s Home Decorating in Northville, Michigan. They sell paint and basic wallpaper, plus all the tools and accessories to do it yourself. And they hold classes. I have taught literally hundreds of people to use a utility knife.

Making things look better is in my blood. I’m a total sucker for before-and-after magazine spreads, doesn’t matter if it’s houses or hairdos, cosmetics or closets. In the checkout line, when I see a People Magazine cover that says “I Lost 100 Pounds!” or “Veteran With Six Foster Children Gets New Home Surprise!” I cannot get $4.99 out of my purse fast enough.

“What’s Teddy doing?” My brother still works at Shelton’s. He and his girlfriend, Andrea, fixed up an apartment over our parents’ barn. The paint and wallpaper were free. It’s cute.

“He’s around here someplace. In the stockroom, I think. Did you want to speak to him?”

“No. I just wanted to hear your voice.” I sniffle. Damn.

“What’s up, sweetie?” His voice is immediately full of concern. “Everything okay at work?”

“Oh, yes, everything’s fine. I just miss you, and Mom, and… home.”

“Carrie, you can come home anytime! You know that. Your room is waiting for you, and Mom and I would love to have you back. And so would all your high school friends, the ones that stayed around. Mom hates cooking for just the two of us, and she has no one to go to the mall with anymore. Why don’t you come for a weekend and think about staying?”

“Thank you, Daddy. I’ll be home at Thanksgiving. I’m fine. I love you.”

I don’t point out that they have never visited me in Boston. “Too loud and busy,” they say. Mom and Dad never planned for Teddy or me when it came to college. They assumed we’d stay put and take over the business. And I did — stay put, that is. Just long enough to realize I was literally spending much of my life watching paint dry.

I left home when I was twenty-five. Moved to Boston nine years ago. Took the long route to getting my degree. I’ve built a fine life.

I am fine, right? I mean, I have a great job, even if it doesn’t pay very much yet. I’m in debt up to my eyeballs, too, but who isn’t? Changing careers means some sacrifice, but I knew I wanted to be in design, not public relations. Now I have my degree, and I’m back on track.

Career on track. Love life off the rails. I just can’t explain this situation to my father.

Saved by the beep.

“I have to go, Daddy, my friend Jenny’s trying to call. She’s the one who’s getting married in a few weeks. I’ll call Mom later. I love you.”

“Sure, baby, I’ll tell her. Love you back.”

I click over to Jenny as my machine boyfriend clicks over from ‘wash’ to ‘rinse.’

“Hi Jen.”

“Hey, what’s going on?”

“Going on? What do you mean?” How much does she know? What is she really asking?

“I mean, like, what’s going on? What do you mean, what do I mean?”

“I’m in the laundry room standing guard over my load of darks.”

“Never try to get the machines on a Saturday, you have to fight all the people who have nothing better to do.” I am the people who have nothing better to do, but apparently she doesn’t know that yet. “I thought you’d be on your way to the apple orchard by now. You’re running late — or are you staying in the country tonight? Jamey always finds those adorable inns where they roast the venison over an open fire or whatever.” She chuckles, proud of her creative brother.

“Um, no. That was the plan but… Jamey had to go out of town. At the last minute.”

“Really? That’s weird, he always lets Mom know where he’s going to be.”

“I think he had a lot on his mind.” Can you die from lying by omission? I’m about to find out.

“Oh. Well, since you’re not doing anything, why don’t you come meet us? I’m taking Savannah to pick out her flower girl basket, and then we’re going to Cheesecake Factory for an early supper. It’ll be so much fun!”

You see? You see? This is what my life is going to be from now on. Dragging someone’s whiny four-year-old niece around on the T, followed by gluey fettucine Alfredo at 5:00 on Saturday night. Home in bed by 8:45. Alone.

“That definitely sounds like fun, Jen, but I think I’m going to use the time to work on a special project Chloe gave me. It’s a little different for me and I want to do a good job.”

“Okay, sweetie,” she says, her mind already moving on to the next wedding-checklist item. “When Jamey comes back, let’s get dinner, the four of us.”

“That would be great.”

It would be great, all right. Just four friends, two happy couples, grabbing dinner. But Jamey’s not coming back — not to that life, anyway.

We say our goodbyes and I’m alone with my spin cycle again.

Jenny hasn’t heard the news. That’s obvious. I don’t think it’s up to me to tell her. You don’t out people. That’s not how this works. Even if I hate Jamey — and part of me does — I’m not cruel. There’s a reason he hasn’t told Jenny the truth yet. While he’s been horrible to me, I don’t have to stoop to his level and be horrible back. When he’s ready, he’ll tell Jenny.

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