Total pages in book: 82
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 78387 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 392(@200wpm)___ 314(@250wpm)___ 261(@300wpm)
I peruse the bookshelves. There are some classic titles, which entice me. I’ve always wanted to collect first editions but have never taken the plunge. They’re an investment. When I’m with Elle, my cash flow is flexible. Without her . . . well that just doesn’t seem possible and I can’t even begin to understand what I was thinking in December. I love her. She’s my life. I hate myself for kicking our relationship to the curb so fast. Thinking back to that night, I was being so irrational, and I think it’s because of my new co-worker and how he described his girlfriend and if he had asked me, I knew exactly what I would want to say. Except I realized then I wanted to call her my wife instead of my girlfriend and I let that notion get the better of me. I will never understand why I needed our status to change immediately instead of sticking with the plan. Maybe, deep down, I knew something was wrong with me and I wanted to be married to her before shit got bad for me. Elle’s never pressured me for anything except to accept her for who she is. She never demanded a ring or anything, and all she ever asked was for me to love her, which I can easily do. I’m the one who insisted on more when we were content.
Maybe that’s it—we were content.
Was I afraid I’d lose her?
My hand pauses on the spine of an old, tattered copy of Les Misérables—a coming of age story about redemption and hidden identities, mixed with a powerful love story among a raging war. Sounds like mine and Elle’s life right now with the exception of hiding who we are, although, in a sense, we’re doing just that—hiding. I was foolish in thinking I could hide my feelings for Elle. In doing so, I made myself angry and hateful, for no reason other than I wanted to shut off the way I feel about her because I thought it would be easier than admitting I made a mistake. No man wants to ever admit they were wrong, but I was. Still am. Every day I think about telling Elle to forget what I said, but there’s damage that needs to be fixed, and I’m the one who needs to fix it. I don’t expect Elle to just forget the things I said to her.
There are a couple of tables in this store, as well as a coffee and tea station. I brew myself a cup of coffee and take one of the tables in the front window. It’s been a few weeks since I’ve checked in with my co-workers. Unfortunately, they all know I have cancer. I say it’s unfortunate because it’s a pity party. We’re not close and barely know each other. Prior to my diagnosis I was only in the office a couple of times because we’re allowed to work remotely. The camaraderie some people have with their co-workers isn’t there for me. Nonetheless, they’re all sorry I’m battling for my life right now. While I appreciate the support, the sympathy sucks. I stopped showing my face during meetings so they can’t see how much I’ve changed. No one needs to comment on my looks right now. I know I look sick. I have bags under my eyes that rival parents with a colicky newborn.
After a sip of coffee, I boot up my laptop and send a message to my team. Replies pop up instantly and after a round of “how are you doing” conclude, we talk business. The agency landed a new client and now it’s our responsibility to take them from a regional success to a globally household name. Super easy, said no one in advertising. This makes working with bands much easier.
In between answering messages from my co-workers, I decide to start working on a logo for Plum. It’s not my job, but I know it’ll make Elle happy, and I want to make her happy. Truthfully, working for her was easy. Another mistake on my part by leaving, but there wasn’t any way I’d be able to work with her and not be with her. There’s no way in hell I’d ever be able to watch her move on and that’s a fear I live with every day.
When I’m satisfied with some options for Plum’s logo, I sign-off, close my laptop, pack my things up, dump the cold coffee, and make my way to the check-out counter with a couple of new paperbacks. With my new books in hand, I decide to check out the new pet store. I have mixed feelings about stores like this. Are the pets taken care of? Are their cages cleaned? Are the animals fed regularly?
Inside, there’s a pen in the middle of the store with a couple of puppies playing with each other. There’s one though, who sits in the corner. He looks at his friends and I imagine he’s thinking to himself, “What are they doing?” He makes me smile. I reach down and pet him. He leans his head back and looks into my eyes.