Shopping

Friday morning arrived much earlier than I would have liked.

My alarm went off at six, and for a few seconds I just lay there staring at the ceiling.

The events of the night before slowly came back to me.

Dinner with Mom and Dad.

The interrogation.

The shopping trip I had somehow been volunteered for.

And Saturday.

I rolled over and looked at the empty side of the bed.

Chris had already left for work.

Or at least I assumed he had.

Lately, our schedules had become so disconnected that some days we barely saw each other.

There had been a time when that would have bothered me.

Now it just felt normal.

And that realization made me sad.

Not angry.

Not bitter.

Just sad.

I got ready for work and headed out the door.

The entire drive, I kept hearing my father's voice.

"Are you happy?"

Such a simple question.

Yet I hadn't been able to answer it.

Not honestly.

Not without admitting things I wasn't ready to admit.

Work was busy, which was exactly what I needed.

For eight hours, I buried myself in reports, meetings, and client calls.

Anything to keep my mind from wandering.

Unfortunately, my coworkers had other plans.

Around lunchtime, Ron appeared in my office doorway.

The grin on his face immediately told me he was up to something.

"Oh no."

He laughed.

"What?"

"That look."

"What look?"

"The look you get when you're about to make my life difficult."

Ron sat down.

"So."

I pointed a pen at him.

"No."

"So?"

"No."

He smiled.

"Saturday."

I closed my eyes.

"I hate you."

"No, you don't."

"You're enjoying this entirely too much."

He leaned back in the chair.

"Maybe a little."

"A little?"

"Okay, a lot."

I shook my head.

"You're unbelievable."

"So are you."

I narrowed my eyes.

"What does that mean?"

Ron smiled.

"It means I've known you for years."

Uh-oh.

That was never a good start.

"And?"

"And I've watched you slowly disappear."

His words caught me off guard.

I wasn't expecting that.

The joking tone had vanished.

Now he sounded serious.

Very serious.

"What are you talking about?"

"You know exactly what I'm talking about."

I looked away.

Because I did.

"You used to laugh all the time."

I said nothing.

"You used to tell stories."

Silence.

"You used to light up when you walked into a room."

I stared at the paperwork on my desk.

"You don't anymore."

The room felt quiet.

Too quiet.

Finally, I sighed.

"People change."

Ron shook his head.

"No."

I looked at him.

"No?"

"People get tired."

That hit harder than I expected.

Because tired was exactly what I felt.

Not physically.

Emotionally.

Spiritually.

The kind of exhaustion that sleep doesn't fix.

Ron smiled softly.

"I'm not trying to push you toward Jack."

I laughed.

"Could have fooled me."

He laughed too.

"Okay, maybe I pushed a little."

"A little?"

"Fine. A lot."

We both laughed.

Then he grew serious again.

"I just want you to remember what it feels like to enjoy life."

I sat quietly.

Because hearing the same message from multiple people was becoming impossible to ignore.

My parents.

Ron.

Even my own thoughts.

Everyone seemed to be telling me the same thing.

Somewhere along the way, I had stopped living.

I had simply been surviving.

When Ron finally stood to leave, he stopped at the door.

"One more thing."

I groaned.

"What now?"

"Promise me something."

"No."

He laughed.

"You don't even know what it is."

"I already don't like it."

He pointed at me.

"Go into Saturday with an open mind."

I shook my head.

"That's your advice?"

"Yes."

"I thought it would be something profound."

"It is profound."

"It isn't."

He laughed.

"Just go."

And with that, he walked out.

Leaving me alone with my thoughts.

Which was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Because the more I thought about Saturday, the more nervous I became.

Not because of Jack.

Not entirely.

I was nervous because I couldn't remember the last time I had done something for myself.

That felt selfish.

And after years of putting everyone else first, selfish felt uncomfortable.

The workday finally ended around five.

As I gathered my things, my phone rang.

I looked at the caller ID.

Mom.

Of course.

I answered immediately.

"Hello."

"Be ready at six."

I laughed.

"Good evening to you too."

"We don't have time for that."

"Apparently not."

"You need shoes."

"I have shoes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

I started laughing.

"I'm a grown woman."

"Then act like one and be ready at six."

Before I could respond, she hung up.

Just hung up.

I stared at the phone.

Then burst out laughing.

Some things never changed.

Sure enough, at six o'clock sharp, Mom pulled into my driveway.

Not six-oh-five.

Not six-ten.

Six o'clock.

Exactly.

I climbed into the passenger seat.

"You know this is insane, right?"

"No."

"It is."

"No."

"Mom."

She smiled.

"Trust me."

Those three words should have terrified me.

And honestly, they kind of did.

As we drove toward the mall, she glanced at me.

"You nervous?"

"No."

"Liar."

I laughed.

"I'm not nervous."

"Then why do you keep checking your phone?"

I looked down.

Sure enough, I had checked it three times in the last few minutes.

Without realizing it.

Mom smiled knowingly.

"Oh, sweetheart."

"What?"

"You like him."

I immediately started laughing.

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

She laughed.

"Then why are your cheeks turning red?"

I looked out the window.

Because annoyingly enough, she was right.

Not about liking him.

At least I didn't think so.

But I was curious.

And curiosity was dangerous.

Very dangerous.

Especially for someone whose life suddenly felt balanced on the edge of change.

I didn't know it yet, but somewhere between shopping with my mother and Saturday night's dinner, my entire future was about to shift.

And nothing would ever be the same again.