“Lucky guy,” Bill said, forking a potato. “Sounds like a catch.”
“Lucy,” I blurted, sending all eyes in my direction. I scrambled for a topic. “How’s the planning coming?” I asked, pointing my fork at her ring. Her face lit up. When in doubt, go wedding, I noted.
“Actually, we have news,” she said, looking over at Andrew. “We’ve set a date. First weekend of September.”
“September?” I asked in shock. “Of this year? That’s like four months away!”
“I know.” I sensed the hesitation in her voice. “It’s also Labor Day weekend. But Andrew’s parents are leaving for their trip around the world in October, and it’s really important to him – to us – that they be there.”
“Why not wait ‘til they get back?” Gretchen asked.
“Well they don’t know when that will be . . . . Andrew’s dad has been planning this trip for a decade and they don’t know when, or even if they’ll be back. And there’s my aunt, too.”
“How is she?”
“She’s stable,” Andrew answered. “But that could change any day and we don’t want to take the chance.”
“Anyway,” Lucy said, clearly not wanting to talk about it. “Labor Day it is, so clear your calendars.”
“You’re going to have your hands full,” I said matter-of-factly. Lucy agreed.
She left into the kitchen and reappeared with a homemade cheesecake, eliciting applause from the men. Her domestic skills never failed to impress me. She set a dish in front of everyone but Gretchen, who said she was ‘stuffed.’ Lucy continued with the details of the next four months, much to Bill’s chagrin, I could tell.
“Geez Liv, I don’t understand where you put all that,” Andrew said suddenly, gesturing to my empty plate. I turned red and we all burst into laughter.
CHAPTER 11
JEANINE CLICKED ON THE TURN SIGNAL, and Bill leaned forward eagerly from the passenger side, trying to get a glimpse of the house. She pointed into the distance where it sat behind leafy green trees. I surveyed the neighborhood from my open window, taking in the quiet stillness of the streets, save the almost imperceptible rustling of foliage. As she turned onto the street, I admired the old-fashioned but grand houses that sat comfortably in their foundations, settled from decades of existence.
Bill turned from the front of the car. “The drive wasn’t so bad, was it? Oak Park is an easy commute,” he decided, turning back to watch out the windshield.
“It really is,” Jeanine agreed, glancing at him. “You also have the option of the ‘L’ train. It’s maybe a thirty, forty minute ride.” Bill’s excitement to move out of the city overshadowed my discontent. I was apprehensive, but now, I had to agree. It wouldn’t be too far from my beloved Chicago, and Bill would get a taste of the slow life. Compromise, Olivia.
As she pulled up to the house, I was taken aback by its magnificence. Its enormity lay in the imposing features, rather than in square footage. The property was run-down and thick with overgrown brush, but somehow, it was alive with character. I loved that it was different from the houses around it, with hard angles and flat lines, but that the atmosphere of the street was still present.
I unbuckled my seatbelt and stepped out to get a better look. Dead grass crunched under my shoes as I used my hand to shield the lowering sun.
“Olivia!” I turned to see Jeanine gesturing to me as she and Bill crossed the street. “Over here!”
I looked behind her in confusion, noticing the ‘For Sale’ sign planted firmly in lush green grass. When I turned back, I searched for the same sign on my lawn but found nothing. Feeling foolish, I ran across the pavement to meet Bill and Jeanine, who were talking energetically and hadn’t noticed my blunder. In front of me stood another impressive house, yet it didn’t inspire the same feeling in me as its neighbor.
Jeanine led us inside the creaky house and took us from room to room enthusiastically. We climbed the stairs to find a sprawling master bedroom. For Bill, that would be the exclamation point on this sentence. While he and Jeanine lingered there to discuss amenities, I wandered down the hall and into a smaller room that faced the street.
I surveyed the bright green lawn from the second story, admiring its calm brilliance. A cracked window allowed me to breathe in the fresh spring breeze appreciatively. Maybe the suburbs aren’t so bad, I thought.
My eyes were drawn again to the house across the way. From where I stood, it seemed even more out of place on the street, an eyesore among champions. I began to imagine what it might look like with a trimmed hedge; how it would morph with a new stone walkway and a fresh coat of paint.
“What do you think?” I heard from behind me.
“I like the house across the street,” I said honestly, still staring out the window.
Bill was quiet for a moment. “And if you were on that side of the street, you’d like this one.” At times his tone could be so acerbic that I wondered how it didn’t eat right through him.
I turned to face him. “That’s not fair.”
“No? You haven’t liked any of the houses Jeanine has shown us. This is the best one yet. It’s perfect, Liv. Good neighborhood, in our price range, and bigger than we’d hoped.”
“You’re right, it is an amazing place. I’m just not sure it’s . . . right. I don’t know if I see myself here.”
“It’s not just about you, Liv. I’m part of this too. And we have our future to think about.”
“I understand that Bill,” I said, annoyed by the suggestion. “But buying a house is a huge decision, and I want to make sure it’s perfect.”
“Perfect doesn’t exist! There’s always going to be something, Liv. It will feel like home, you just have to give it time.”
I shook my head, feeling a bit like a stubborn child.
Just then, Jeanine appeared next to Bill. “I see you found the second room.” She smiled dully, and I got the impression that she was performing a familiar act, one that got old after a while. “Great for an office or maybe a nursery?”
My eyes flicked between them, and Bill laughed awkwardly. “We’re not quite there yet,” he told Jeanine.
“Oh, I’m sorry,” she said unconvincingly. “Most couples that move from the city are getting ready to start a family.” I knew Bill well enough to see that he was embarrassed.
“Yes, of course,” I said with an attempt at graciousness. “It’s a beautiful home. What’s the story with the house across the street?” I asked.
“Oh,” she said, coming over to the window. “I know, it’s appalling. The owners live in California and stopped taking care of it a while back. I think a couple neighbors have tried to report housing code violations, so perhaps one day they’ll sell or tear it down. I can find out for you.”
I placed my hand on the glass. “It’s rather charming.”
“I suppose,” she agreed. “But it’s a mess. It needs a complete overhaul. This house though, well . . . It won’t be on the market long.” I turned from the window to Bill, whose lips were pulled tight across his face.
“Let’s get more information, then,” I said, and without looking at either of them, left the room.
~
Back at the apartment, Bill lingered in the kitchen while I prepared dinner. I had no desire to reopen the discussion, but I had a feeling he wouldn’t let me get away with that. I started in on washing the lettuce, thankful for a task to distract me.
“So about this afternoon,” he ventured.
I grimaced with my back to him. “Here,” I said, turning to hand him a knife and motioning to two red tomatoes on the cutting board. “Can you chop those?”
He took the knife and began slicing. “What are you thinking?”
“Ab
out what?” I asked, turning back to the sink.
“Today.”
“Can you be more specific?”
He was quiet for a moment, and all I heard was the knife hitting the wood repeatedly. “That house is as close to perfect as it’s going to get, and we really can’t hesitate.”
“Yup, I got that. I said I’d think about it.”
“And Jeanine’s right. We’re at the point where we should start thinking about a family.”
I answered him with a heavy sigh. “I’m in the same place I was six months ago when we discussed this. And especially now, if I get this promotion, honey, I just don’t feel ready.”
“Olivia, you might never feel ready. It’s the same with the house. The timing will never be right, you just have to do it, and the rest will come.”
I stiffened anxiously. It wasn’t that I just didn’t feel ready. If I was being honest, I didn’t want it. And I worried that I never would. I remembered before Bill had proposed, when he and I had talked about our future, I had assured him that one day I would get there. That there would be a right time for children. Did that mean I owed it to him?
“I need more time.”
“I’m ready now.”
I whirled from the sink to face him. “Now?” I asked, incredulous. He was quiet again, but this time he’d stopped chopping, and his knuckles were white from gripping the knife. “Bill, be reasonable. I’m not ready.”
“I heard you the first time, but you are. We are. I don’t want you to start birth control.”
“Don’t push me Bill, this is too big of a decision.”
“It’s not a decision, Liv. It’s a feeling. I’m ready, and so are you.”
“Stop saying that! You don’t know what I am! What if you’re wrong – what happens if we’re not ready? I don’t want to end up like - ” I caught myself.