“Well, come in then. It just so happens I was baking cookies. With the gluten stuff. Regular flour. But I can make another batch.”
“That’s really not necessary…”
“What else am I going to do with my time? I’m just sitting here waiting to die. Might as well make good use of my time.” Her wrinkled face remains serious for a few seconds, but then she bursts into a grin so big, I swear her false teeth just about fly right out of her mouth. “I’m kidding. I know I have at least five good years left in me.”
I stand there stupidly until Sutton’s grandma flings the door open. “Well? Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand out there?”
“I’m coming.” I go to step inside, but all of a sudden, Sutton appears behind her grandma. It makes the older woman jump nearly a foot in the air.
“Sweet sugared socks, you know I hate when you do that.”
“Sorry,” Sutton whispers.
She looks pale, and her face is almost completely white. On her forehead, there are little beads of moisture along her hairline. Her hair is pulled back into a tight bun on top of her head, and she’s wearing a plain grey t-shirt and black yoga pants. It might be her pajamas, but I’m not sure. She’s dressed more casually than I’ve ever seen her, and she’s absolutely gorgeous.
“Try to announce yourself next time before you give your old granny a heart attack. Anyway, I’ll be in the kitchen if you need me.”
“Thanks.” Sutton doesn’t make a joke about needing her grandma to come and defend her with a knife or a flipper or a spatula. I think she would normally have. She’s off her game. She does not look pleased to see me, but she’s not entirely surprised either.
I haven’t stepped in yet. I’m still on the concrete step that leads up to the door, and Sutton takes advantage of it. She steps out in bare feet and closes the door loudly behind her. Once she’s certain it’s closed, and she’s out of hearing range, she crosses her arms and leans back against the door.
“Why are you here? I thought I was pretty clear in my wishes to never see you again.” Her heart isn’t in being mean. I don’t know if it ever was. She’s trying to be firm, but she honestly doesn’t look well. Her face looks more like she’s trying not to puke than it does angry.
“I know.” Swallowing is like trying to get a gym sock down my throat. “I know that.” Smooth. Try something else. Try half of what you rehearsed in the car.
“So?”
“So…uh…I wanted to make sure you were okay. I was worried after I got your email.”
“Worried because you won’t have anyone to look after you? Worried as in you don’t want to put the time and effort into training someone else? Worried you’re going to get behind on your reports and other work? Worried that the company is going to suffer because I bailed on you? Or worried about me?”
“About you.” I wish I could say it without a tremble in my voice. It hardly sounds convincing, and obviously, it’s not, because she rolls her eyes.
“Right. Well, I’m okay. Going to be fine. I meant what I said. I didn’t think it was appropriate to work there after you know. I just didn’t want to do it anymore. I was tired of pretending. It was weird. I didn’t think it was ever not going to be weird. I just want to go to a job where I don’t have to feel like I’m living a double life.”
“I never meant for you to feel that way.”
“Yes, well, it happened. It’s not all your fault. I have a big part to play in it too. I just couldn’t deal with the fallout. Honestly, I needed a change anyway. I had been there for years, and I want to do something else. Something more…I don’t know. Creative. I…yeah. I’m not going to ask for a reference—”
“I’ll give you one. Of course. I’ll mail it to you?” I don’t want to ask for her number or her personal email. That would make her feel like I’m trying to trick her or pressure her into giving it to me.
“Uh, thanks. Is that all you’re here for? Just to tie up loose ends? If you are, then I can tell you I’ll be fine. And so will you. You’ll find someone else and train them, and everything will be great. You are more capable than you think. I meant what I said at the end of the email. I…yeah. I’m sorry I had to bail like that. I should have given two weeks, but I just couldn’t.”
“It’s fine.” Tell her. Tell her, you idiot.
“Okay.” Sutton’s throat bobs, and she swallows convulsively. She’s become even whiter, which is kind of alarming because she was already a terrible shade of pale before.
“Are you okay? I mean, you obviously haven’t told your grandma yet, but are you actually sick?”
“No.” She shakes her head, unconvincingly. “I just ate something last night that settled wrong.” She half turns, searching for the door handle like we’re finished.
Maybe we are. Maybe for her, this is all she wanted to say. Maybe I was wrong about it meaning anything. Maybe she just really didn’t want to have the kind of work relationship where we’d slept together, making it really awkward for her. Maybe there was no other actual feeling behind it other than what was done was done, and she couldn’t undo it and couldn’t live with it, so she had to quit.
Tell her. Tell her, dumbass. You’re not going to get another chance. “Wait!”
Sutton’s hand freezes on the handle. She angles halfway back around. Her face
