The Green Apple was an adorable, little bistro not far from Jillian’s school. The unspoken habit embraced by Jillian and Marina—that at least once every week or two, they went out for Happy Hour as soon as they could escape their classrooms—now included Lindsey. They occupied the same window table every time, and it was a short wait before two Cosmos and a Heineken were delivered to them.
The mouth-watering aromas of garlic and fresh-baked bread filled the air. Jillian’s stomach rumbled loudly, making the other two look at her with raised eyebrows.
Jillian shrugged. “What? Lunch was a long time ago.”
“To surviving a crazy freaking week,” Marina said, raising her glass. Jillian raised hers, and they clinked with Lindsey’s bottle.
“Amen to that,” Jillian said.
They sipped.
“You know, I have always wanted to be a teacher.” Lindsey scooped up a handful of mini-pretzels from the bowl in the center of the table. “Ever since I can remember. I used to ask for school stuff for Christmas and birthdays.” The other two chuckled knowingly. “I got one of those big easel chalk boards one year. I thought I’d died and gone to heaven.” She took another slug, then focused on her friends. “But college did not prepare me for the politics.”
“Amen to that, too,” Jillian said, tipping her glass in Lindsey’s direction. Turning to Marina, she asked, “Didn’t you and I say the same thing our first couple of years?”
“A few hundred times.” Marina brushed a fuzz off her flowing cream-colored skirt, rearranged it around her legs. “It’s the hardest thing to get used to, in my opinion.”
“Mine, too.”
“And don’t even get me started on the parents,” Marina said, taking a large gulp of her drink as she groaned.
“Well, Lindsey’s quite a bit younger than we are,” Jillian pointed out. “Her upbringing might have been different.”
“Maybe. But I can tell you, my mother knew my teachers’ names and she kept up on what I was doing in school, but that was the extent of it. I swear, if some of these parents today could actually do the work for their kids, they absolutely would. And the kids I teach are little! You couldn’t pay me enough to teach high school.”
“Really?” Lindsey asked, then turned to Jillian. “What about you?”
“I wanted to teach high school,” Jillian responded.
“Yeah?”
“At first, yup. I wanted to teach art history and art appreciation. All that good stuff. But the small kids?” She gave a wistful smile. “They’ve kind of grown on me.”
“Finger painting is more exciting than you thought, huh?” Lindsey winked.
“Something like that.”
“I don’t know.” Lindsey signaled to Jake the bartender for another round. “I understand that there is such a thing as politics in schools, and I get that certain things have to be dealt with, but I just want to teach the kids. The endless meetings and reports and more meetings and more reports just seem like such a waste of my time.” Her ponytail bounced gently as she shook her head.
“You get used to it,” Jillian said.
“That’s what I keep telling myself.”
They chatted for another hour, ordered a sampling of appetizers to help soak up the alcohol, then all three switched to water. As usual, Marina was the first one to call it a night.
Once they’d said their goodbyes and Marina had left, Jillian made an expression that was a combination smile and grimace.
“What’s that face?” Lindsey asked.
“I’m still not used to the fact that I don’t have to get home to Boo to let her out and feed her. It’s been over a month, but it still catches me off guard sometimes.”
“Do you think you’ll get another dog?”
“I don’t know. At times, I think I want to. I miss having a furry thing that loves me unconditionally and is so excited when I come home that she wants to burst.” By unspoken agreement, they didn’t talk about their home lives. Jillian knew Lindsey was fresh out of a relationship, but they hadn’t discussed the details. “Other times, when I think about another dog, I feel like I’d almost be cheating on Boo. I know that’s ridiculous, but it’s true. And honestly? I didn’t realize how much work a dog is until I didn’t have one. It’s a little bit freeing.” She made a face. “And I feel awful for saying that. Awful.”
Lindsey laid a warm hand over Jillian’s. “Don’t. Don’t do that to yourself. You’re not awful, and you know it.”
Jillian took a deep breath. “You’re right. I was a good mommy.”
Lindsey grinned. “Yes, you were.”
“Okay. Cheer me up. Talk to me about something fun.”
The next ninety minutes seemed to go by in a matter of mere moments for Jillian. As always, she found Lindsey to be entertaining, charming, fun to be around. The two of them laughed so often, they garnered smiling looks from other patrons, and then playfully scolded one another to keep it down.
A quick glance at her watch told her it was well past time for her to get home.
Lindsey grabbed her wrist before she had a chance to stand, her hand soft but firm. “You still wear one of those?” she asked, a twinkle in her eye.
“Yes, smartass, I still wear one. It’s called a watch. Not that a young whippersnapper like you would have any idea.”
“‘Whippersnapper,’ huh? My grandpa uses that word.”
“Funny,” Jillian said as she playfully slapped at Lindsey’s arm. She signaled Jake, who sent their bill right over. She added her own money to the cash Marina had left. When she looked up, Lindsey was gazing at her with an expression that Jillian easily read but forced herself to ignore, despite the pang of excitement that hit her low in her body.
“I have so much fun with you,” Lindsey said, her voice quietly serious.
“I know. Me too.” Bending at the waist, she gave Lindsey a quick hug, not allowing herself to hold on longer than a couple seconds. “I’ll see you tomorrow.”
She exited the bistro as fast as she could without actually running. Once in her car, she popped in her Gwen Stefani CD and turned it up as loud as her ears could stand. Anything to obliterate the thoughts racing through her mind. Anything to keep her from focusing on what could become a problem for her. Anything to prevent her from actually dealing with the situation head on.
Singing aloud with Gwen seemed to help.
The downstairs was dark when Jillian arrived home, though Angie’s car was in the driveway. She’d hardly thought about Angie that day, and aside from leaving her a voicemail telling her she was going out with the girls, they hadn’t had any contact all day.
Jillian smelled bacon as soon as she entered the kitchen. Bacon and eggs were Angie’s go-to dinner when she didn’t feel like actually cooking, and a little stab of guilt hit Jillian when she realized Angie had not only been home for dinner but had eaten alone.
Her nights out with the girls didn’t tend to run quite so late most of the time.
Upstairs, the bedroom light shone and Jillian smiled as she saw Angie reading The Da Vinci Code in bed.
“Hi,” she said, hoping her smile wasn’t too big.
Angie lowered her book. “Hey. I was beginning to wonder if you were ever coming home.” There was no accusation in her tone, no anger. That only made Jillian feel worse.
“I’m sorry.” Unbuttoning her blouse, Jillian stepped into the walkin closet, hung up her work clothes as she took them off. “We got talking and laughing and we just lost track of time.”
“No problem. I wasn’t going to start worrying for another hour or two.”
Jillian poked her head around the door to see if Angie was serious. Her smile said she wasn’t. Jillian’s relief was palpable, especially since she understood exactly what it felt like to sit up at home and not know when your partner will show up.
“How are the girls?”
“They’re good.” The thought of telling Angie she had spent most of the evening alone with Lindsey made her feel like she might break out in hives, so she left it at that.
In the bathroom, she washed her face, brushed her teeth, did all her nightly ablutions. Staring at herself in the mirror, she again noticed the crow’s feet around her eyes, the smile lines that hugged her mouth like a set of parentheses, a few stray strands of gray hair nicely camouflaged by the lightness of the rest of it. You’re an adult, she silently told her reflection. Stop screwing around and act like one.
In her panties and a tank top, she lifted the covers and crawled into bed next to Angie, who was still reading. She cuddled up, laying her head on Angie’s shoulder, draping an arm across Angie’s midsection.
“Good book?” she asked.
Angie nodded, kissed Jillian’s forehead without taking her eyes from the page she was reading. Her body was warm, her skin soft, and she smelled like her usual exotic scent, which Jillian still adored. And tonight, all those things combined to poke at Jillian until she thought she’d crawl out of her own skin.
With a quick kiss to Angie’s cheek, she turned onto her side, facing away, and closed her eyes, praying for sleep to bring her to a new day so she could take a deep breath and start fresh.