For the past three nights, Pig has crawled into my bed, eventually followed by my wife.
The sleeping arrangement always stays platonic, with the snoring dog between us. Nothing like what happened in the kitchen. The first morning after, I told Luna nothing had to change about our arrangement. I expect nothing more than what we originally agreed to.
She’d given a firm nod, told me that sounded good, then accepted the bag lunch I packed her and left for work.
Since then, things have been…odd.
Almost like hooking up in the kitchen opened Luna up to more physical closeness. But nothing sexual. I don’t know where I stand, but I’m just glad we’re not over.
And that we’re sharing a bed.
Luna left the covers a few minutes ago, and I can hear her beginning of the day routine down the hall in her bathroom. Palming my morning wood, I wait ’til I hear her shower running before climbing out of bed and ducking into the guest bathroom.
Thoughts of my wife fill my head when I grip myself in the shower. The gasps she made and the rake of her nails against my skull. By the time I’m out and drying myself off, the slam of the front door lets me know she’s gone. I wasn’t intentionally dodging her. Luna’s schedule changes daily based on her clients, which means I haven’t been able to plan to be in the kitchen with her when she’s making breakfast. Some days it happens, other days Pig and I have the house to ourselves.
To avoid thoughts about the uncertainty of my relationship with my wife, I try to focus on my life plan. But just like every other day this month, time passes, and I still have no solution.
Pig is no help. The dog trots beside me now, tongue lolling out the side of her wide mouth as she happily pants after her hour of tussling in the dog park. We could have gone straight home afterward. Pig got plenty of exercise. No need to walk along this city sidewalk.
But with nothing to do at the house other than clean, I find myself drawn to a place that calms me.
C & M’s Guitar Studio.
With Pig at my side, I have no plans to go in, but the shop has an amazing selection on display in their front window. I spend a good ten minutes running my eyes over the Gibsons while Pig sits patiently at my feet.
“That’s a well-behaved dog.” The observation comes from my right in a vaguely familiar voice. I meet the stare of Cassandra, the C of C & M.
“Thank you. I’d like to take credit, but she basically came this way.”
Cassandra nods, giving the two of us a speculative look. “As long as she stays mellow, you can bring her in. I’ve got some new stock. More interesting than these.”
The woman pulls the front door of the shop open and holds it for me.
“Thanks.” I eagerly follow her, leaning down to give Pig a pet because she’s a good girl. “I’ve been meaning to come by dogless, but Pig and I tend to spend the entire day together.”
The store owner snorts. “Pig?”
“She came with that too. Fits her though.”
We both glance at the dog, with her short legs, slight potbelly, and heavy nose that gives the appearance of a snout.
“I see that.”
The three of us maneuver through rows of guitars, dodging the occasional customer on our way. Some people give my dog a strange look, but my girl keeps being her well-behaved self. Constantly proving all the myths about pit bulls wrong.
“Back here.” Cassandra holds open a door leading to a well-equipped repair shop. There are a few disassembled instruments on high-top tables. The pieces give my gut an anxious twinge, and I’m glad I’m not the one in charge of putting them back together. Even with as much as I know, I’d never get them all right.
“Here. I found these at an estate sale in Georgia. Aren’t they gorgeous?” Cassandra gestures to four guitars propped side by side. I crouch down to get a better look, realizing that she has a collection of Fenders.
“Are these all pre-1960?”
“You got it. They need some work, but man, do they have good bones.”
“They’re beautiful.” I reach out to stroke my thumb across the strings. Not trying to play anything, but just experimenting with the sound.
“You should come by once I’ve gotten a chance to work on them. Or come by any other time, I don’t care. You seem like good people.” Cassandra’s blunt way of speaking has me smiling to myself.
“Thanks. I’m glad I met you.”
She wanders away from me. “Violet does that. Brings people together. She works with your wife, right? Newlyweds. How’s that going?”
I glance up at Cassandra from where I’m crouched. She’s moved over to one of her work benches and looks to be testing the strength of glue she applied to a neck.
“Things are…” I trail off, realizing I don’t want to lie to this woman. Not after she’s shown me these beautiful instruments. I get the sense that Cassandra is trying to reach out to me. Maybe make a new friend.
And friends shouldn’t lie to each other.
“Honestly, they’re a little tense. We’re not balanced.”
Someone used to repairing delicate instruments would know how important balance is.
“How so?” Cassandra asks.
While I’m on her level, I scratch Pig behind her ears, and her tail raps happily against the ground. There are so many ways Luna and I are off-center. My ever-present crush could be the most prevalent reason. I long for her to a massive degree, while I doubt Luna feels more than an average level of attraction.
But that’s digging a little too deep for a new friendship.
I choose another, more relatable answer.
“Luna is the breadwinner. And I’m fine with her making more than me. We both agreed I’d take this year off from work to figure out a new life direction. A new career. But I haven’t made much headway. Sometimes I feel like I’m not contributing anything to our relationship.”
Luna would argue that me being in the relationship is enough, but it’s not for me. Not when she only sees me as the key to some cash. If I’m jobless by the end of the year, would I have the nerve to ask her to consider continuing our marriage?
“You’re switching careers?”
“Trying. I worked in fabric sales. Over in Germany. But I got antsy. Fabrics just aren’t something I’m passionate about, and that’s what I want in my next job.”
For someone trying to pursue desire, a marriage of convenience sounds like the most emotionless choice I could make. And yet my fake relationship has more passion than anything else in my life.
Cassandra studies me while I rise to my feet. “Was it just the fabrics part or did you also dislike being a salesperson?”
Luna asked a similar question back when I first admitted my dissatisfaction.
“Actually, the sales part was enjoyable. Getting to know people, figuring out which product would meet their needs, having them leave happy. All that was great. But then I’d get home at night and realize I was just talking about fabric all day. Like, yeah, I found the product they needed, but do they truly care about it? Once they have what works, do they ever give it a second thought?” I shrug. “That slowly sucked any ounce of joy out of it.”
Cassandra continues to watch me. “What if you were selling something people were passionate about? Something they loved and appreciated every day of their life?”
She creates my dream with her words, and it’s not a far jump to figure out her destination.
“You mean work here? Sell guitars?”
Cassandra runs her fingers over the body of a Gretsch Rancher, the wood gleaming from whatever treatment she used. “I opened this shop five years ago with my husband. He was good with people. Better than I am.” She doesn’t look at me as she says that. If she had been, she’d have seen the disagreement on my face. Cassandra has been nothing but kind to me. A little stiff, sure, but still pleasant to be around.
“We had a perfect setup. He ran the front of the shop, and I handled the back end.”
The past tense she’s using warns me to brace myself.
“He passed last year. Lung cancer.” She huffs out a laugh with zero humor. “He quit smoking before we ever met, but the cigarettes still got him in the end.”
“I’m sorry,” I murmur. As if sensing the woman’s sadness, Pig wanders over and snuffles at Cassandra’s pant leg. That earns her a pet and a genuine, if sad, smile.
“My point is I wasn’t meant to work this place alone.”
Her words confuse me because I saw at least two people with C & M staff T-shirts on the sales floor.
“Are you offering me a job here?”
Cassandra glances at me as her fingers continue to scratch Pig’s blocky head. “This town is full of people looking for part-time work. They want a discount on guitars and flexible hours so they can make their gigs. And they’ll drop this job as soon as someone offers them a little cash and promises of a record deal. Those are the people I offer jobs to. What I need is a partner. Someone looking for a career. Do you think that could be you?”
I open my mouth a few times, fully intending to answer, only to realize I don’t have words. Not a great show for a potential salesperson.
Cassandra holds up her hand, maybe sensing the riot of thoughts swirling in my mind.
“This is an idea I just came up with. Right now. How about you think it over, and if you’re interested, then send over your resume and some references? If you’re not, no harm, no foul. Come into the shop whenever you want. Bring this one with you.” Cassandra pats Pig.
I decide to head out before I blurt something that’ll have her rescinding the offer.
Could I take it?
What would Luna say to the idea of me staying in Nashville?