Page 44 of Here You Are

That was Sunday. By Friday, Luke and everything he owned was gone.

Chapter 19

June 2021

Now that I am officially single again, I’m back to doing what I know best. Working and going along with whatever shenanigans Widow Jenkins tells me I will be doing with her. I was miserable for months, but I am doing better now. Maybe it helped knowing I had survived this before. I’ve talked to Luke a couple of times, mostly for logistical reasons, but I haven’t seen him.

Jenkins knew what she was doing. She picked up on Luke’s lack of intent to settle down and initiated facing the facts. It was devastating, and I was annoyed at her for meddling. In the long run, it was best that I didn’t keep wasting time. I didn’t want to be upset with Luke. Instead, I got angry at Jenkins for intruding into our personal business. He never made me any promises about our future. I just kept hoping that our relationship would be enough to change what he wanted. It wasn’t enough for him, and it wasn’t enough for me, either. I’m still not upset with him. And I’m not upset with WJ. In the end, I was upset with myself for not having that hard conversation sooner and falling back into that cycle.

Has WJ been my only friend since Luke and I broke up? Basically, I have still been hanging out with Syd because I committed to being a better friend, no matter what. It’s not the same hanging out with a friend who used to be your couple friend; nevertheless, she has been great. No one needs to pick sides. We just don’t all hang out together anymore. She is busy, though, with her kids, her husband, and all that her life entails. I’ve been spending more time with Cora, too. She is constantly giving me shit about only wanting to be her sister when I’m single. I am working on being a better person, but it's hard.

“Cassie, we are hosting a 4th of July party,” WJ informed me as we sat on her porch eating pistachios and talking shit about the neighbors. Well, she was talking shit. I had been living here for six years, and everything I knew about anyone in our neighborhood was from what she and Holly had told me. I also know that Mr. Thompson has very little awareness of open blinds when he gets out of the shower every night. I have such a good view of him that I can tell you what is going on with his grooming situation throughout the seasons. I used to get embarrassed and avoid it. Now I’m like a forced Peeping Tom and feel like I’m off my routine if I miss a night.

“We aren’t doing anything, lady. I'm the opposite of a party host, and quite frankly, I'm not likely to show up to a party, even if I am the host.”

“You need to get out more. I’m forty years older than you and get more action. I’ll host the party, but I need you to do the heavy lifting,” she barked at me while throwing a pistachio shell at my head.

“What do you mean by action? Wait, don’t answer that. And who do you think I'm going to be mingling with at this party? Everyone in our neighborhood is old,” I replied.

“Age is just a number. Look at the Johnsons. Don’t tell me they don’t know how to party!”

“You’re right, Jenkins. I’ve always wanted to get involved in a group of geriatric swingers while still in my thirties.”

“Ben Greene is about your age,” she says back to me with an eyebrow raised.

“You mean Grass Daddy?!” I bent over laughing. “First, he is definitely older than me in years and in life accomplishments based on the herd of kids he has running around his yard. Plus, he would have to take a break from mowing. And he’s got a lot on his plate with his kids. He probably wouldn’t even come.”

“You could try being a little nicer to him, you know. His wife died. Cancer. And he is raising those three girls by himself. Don’t be a dick.”

“I’m not being a dick! He just isn’t my type.”

WJ pulled out her phone and started pecking at the numbers on the screen.

“Jenkins, what are you doing?”

She shushed me, and I braced myself for the worst.

“Hey, Ben! It’s Emilia, the old lady next door; remember me?” She barks into the phone. “Can you come over here? I need help with something. YES, right now! Jesus.”

She looked over at me. “Ben’s coming over.”

“No shit,” I deadpanned back at her.

“So, we’ll just ask him what he thinks.”

Despite my attempts to leave to avoid this awkward interaction, I was still sitting with WJ on the porch when I saw Grass Daddy come out of his open garage door. As he got closer, I started to stand up to go use the restroom or something, and WJ snarled at me and said, “Sit your ass down. We have a party to plan.”

I groaned and sat back down, pulling out my phone as a distraction from how awkward I felt.

“Hey, Emilia! What do you need help with?” Ben said as he walked up the porch steps. He moseyed over to the railing and leaned against it, facing us. This is definitely the closest I have been to him since the Period Incident. He is wearing black joggers, slides, a faded beer shirt, and looks to be fresh out of the shower. Ben is rocking the ultimate Dad Look. He’s usually wearing a baseball cap, but he must not have wanted to wreck his freshly washed hair. He has a bit of a belly, a closely trimmed beard, and his slightly wet hair is more than a little gray around the edges. He has the eyebrow crinkle lines that look tragic on me, yet distinguished on men. I can’t help but notice the slight breeze wafting his freshly showered man scent my way. It’s not a terrible smell.

“So, Cassie and I are throwing a 4th of July party for the neighborhood. Cassie doesn’t think you would want to come,” WJ said to him with a glimmer in her eye.

“Oh. My. God, Jenkins. That is not exactly what I said. Sorry, Ben. I was just telling her you seem pretty busy, and I don’t know who would actually all come to the party. I don’t even like throwing parties, so I'm definitely not hosting it,” I said, all in one breath.

He chuckles, “Maybe you guys have noticed I don’t get out much, with the girls taking up all of my time, but I'm definitely up for some new traditions! We used to spend the Fourth of July with my wife’s family, and I don’t think we will be doing that this year. So, I would love to come. What did you need my help with?” he asked.

This statement makes me wonder how long it has been since his wife passed away. I know they have a small child they created together. He said “my wife,” though; maybe it's a force of habit, or it is too sad to say “my late wife.”