I know she thinks that's what I did with my last job. There's no way I could tell her what happened with the principal. She'd be marching me up to the school to make a formal complaint to the board. She'd want me to report that asshole to the police, but I just don't have the strength to go through with that. It might be a coward's way out but leaving quietly and trying to pick up the pieces of my life seems a whole lot easier.
"Maybe." I say, then to change the subject, I ask, "What time are we collecting Sophie from kindergarten?
"Three o'clock," Suzanne replies. "We have time for a coffee."
I follow my sister up the stairs and make my way into the hallway that's lined with photos of Suzanne, her husband, and Sophie. In the kitchen, a bunch of beautiful flowers stands in a vase on the counter. Suzanne's husband buys them for her each week. She's so blessed to have such a happy marriage and great family life. I smile, even though my heart aches for the gaps in my own experiences.
A rack of delicious-looking muffins sits cooling under a net umbrella. "Can I get you a muffin?" Suzanne asks before I have a chance to ask.
"Sure," I say as she readies a plate and sets the coffee pot going.
I perch at the counter, looking around this place that my sister calls home. There is so much that is familiar here.
"So, how was Connie's wedding?" Suzanne asks. "You haven't told me about what happened."
"It was lovely," I say. "Perfect, really. There was so much love there." I break a section of the muffin top away and pop it in my mouth, relishing the tart blueberry and soft, sweet cake. "I didn't make it for the ceremony. Just for the reception."
"Well, it's good you made it for that much," Suzanne says. "Breaking down in the middle of nowhere…anything could have happened. I was so worried about you."
"It was lucky that I ran into Tyler," I say. Suzanne's body freezes, her shoulders bunching as the coffee pot slowly lowers back to the counter.
She turns to face me, and I try to keep my face impassive. "You ran into Tyler?"
"Yeah. He has a repair shop now. He was the one who came to collect me in the recovery vehicle."
"Tyler, your ex-boyfriend, Tyler?"
"Yes," I say. We don’t know any other Tyler but I get why Suzanne is making extra sure.
Suzanne's hand flutters to her chest, letting me know just how much the news has affected her. While Tyler was out of the picture, she could forget.
"So, what happened?"
"He took my car back to his repair shop, and then he volunteered to drive me to Connie's wedding."
"So that's how you made it?"
I fiddle with the ridged side of the plate. "Yes. I would have missed it all if it wasn't for him. I guess fate had a plan."
"And how was he?"
I get the feeling that Suzanne's question is less about Tyler's health and wellbeing and more about what happened between us.
"Okay," I tell her. "He looks good. He's doing well for himself; he has his own business and a really nice house."
"You went to his house?"
I nod, and Suzanne inhales a quick surprised breath before she turns to finish the coffee, giving herself a moment to think without showing me her expression. I can read my sister so well.
"And how was it for you? It must have been hard to see him after all these years."
"It was," I say. "At first, I didn't know how to be. But then it was like no time had passed. It was so strange. Some things about him were the same, and some things were very different."
"That's what time does," Suzanne says, her voice light and wistful. "It changes us in ways we don't necessarily notice until something forces us to look back on the person we were before."
She's right. That moment, when I recognized Tyler, it was as though a magnifying glass shone back on the girl I was when we were together. Seeing her and feeling her again made me feel old and bruised.
Suzanne turns with a mug of coffee in her hand. "What did Carmella think when she saw him at the wedding?" She eyes me, trying to read my expression, wanting to know more than I'm sharing.
I laugh, trying to bring some lightness to the mood to the mood. "She looked like her head was about to explode. She didn't know whether to punch him in the face or hug him. It was really awkward."
"I'm surprised she didn't punch him," Suzanne says. "I would have been tempted."
"He had a reason for leaving," I say softly. "His brother was in an accident. He died."
Suzanne gasps, her hand flying to her mouth. "He was younger, wasn't he?"