Page 123 of One Week Hating You
“So what’s up?” I ask again, curious to know why she’s calling. She usually only calls around Christmas and her birthday to make sure I’ve received a copy of her gifts wish list.
“I was hanging out with uncle Blake yesterday,” she starts. “We made peanut butter cookies. His cat issocute! He says his cat is much cuter than yours.”
I laugh. “Oh he does, does he?”
“Well, he said your cat is beautiful but has no personality.”
I suddenly feel very defensive of Hyde. “Well, Hyde is just the strong silent type, you know. Very smart.”
How dare they badmouth my cat over cookie dough. Who do they think they are?
“Anyway,” she goes on. “Uncle Blake talks about you a lot, and he seems really sad these days.”
So apparently, she’s still on this matchmaking quest of hers. I’m curious. “How does he seem sad?”
“Well, he’s not smiling as much as usual,” she tells me, “and he’s organizing things a lot. Daddy says Blake likes to organize when he’s depressed. He says when he was younger, he used to drink beer a lot when he was depressed, but now he just organizes his shed and his house.”
“Well, that’s a good thing,” I tell her. “He’ll always be able to find what he’s looking for.”
“That’s not the point,” she says, her words sharp. “He’s just not happy. I think he misses you.”
My heart sinks. I miss him too. He’s all I can think about. Yet I don’t say these things because the last thing I want to do is give my ten-year old niece false hope. “He’ll bounce back, I’m sure. It’s that time of year… everyone gets a little gloomy in November.”
“I’m worried about him,” she says.
“He’s fine,” I assure her. It’s not like he’s on crack. He’s not hoarding or gambling. He’s just organizing, for crying out loud.
“Blake says you have an interview in Chicago for some fancy job,” she says. “Are you going to move there? He says it’s really far away.”
“Maybe…”
I’m met with silence. She’s not happy.
“I’ll still come to visit,” I tell her but my stomach is heavy because I know I won’t be able to visit much at all.
“Promise?” she says.
My eyes tear up, and I need to swallow the lump in my throat before I say, “I promise to do my best.”
