Page 21 of The Weight of Love

Both of them shake their heads at me in curiosity.

“Oh man, I can’t believe I forgot to tell you. Yesterday, I was leaving late when I noticed the light still on in that cubicle he calls a nest.”

They both nod in understanding, familiar with the scenario.

“As I walk around the corner, there he is,” I continue, painting the picture for them. “Perched up in his chair, legs pulled up, totally engrossed in coding. Looked just like Gollum.”

“I couldn’t help myself. I asked him what he was working on.” I shake my head, still in disbelief. “He’s coding a new program. It’s designed to send automated alerts to the entire office the next time someone moves his action figures. And get this—it’ll sound an alert every hour, on the hour, until the ‘culprit’ comes forward.”

Their reactions mirrored mine at the time: a mix of concern and sheer exasperation at the absurdity of a grown man, nearly sixty, setting alarms over action figures.

“Then, he gives me this look, straight in the eyes,” I add for effect, lowering my voice to mimic his, “‘They’re my preciouses…’ he says, and just turns back to his screen.”

The conversation shifts back around to questions about me and my ‘bench,’ but I don’t want to have to admit to my friends that there isn’t one. For the first time in over a year, I don’t have an active roster of men at my disposal. Clark has entirely ruined my streak of casual sex.

They ask about my Thanksgiving plans, but I tell them I don’t have the kids this year. I plan to go to the gym, eat pie, and sleep—preferably in that order.

“What about you, Em? Little Miss Oh-Take-Me-You-British-Man-Ho?”

I deflect the subject to Emily’s crush, hoping it will keep them occupied enough to forget that there hadn’t been anyone since Clark. A few guys have tried to pick me up, but I just can’t get him out of my head. He’s always there, lurking in the background.

“Is he really a man-ho, though? Or is that just rumors? Also, ‘man-ho’—that’s the word you’re using?”

“I don’t know. Are you really in love with him, or is he just tall?” I counter with a raised eyebrow.

“Are you really in love with him, or does he just have a hot accent?” Johnathan adds with an exaggerated sip of his coffee.

“Are you really in love with him, or does he just have a charming personality with everyone he meets?” She glowers at us, knowing that we’re right, as we tag-team her with logic.

“How is that any different than you, Stella? You charm everyone.”

“Hell, yeah, I do. I sell snowballs to people living in Antarctica. You don’t want to have sex with me, though, thank goodness. We already have plenty of closeness.”

“Oh my God, I can’t wait for these days off. I need to get away from you two and all your ‘sex’ advice. You two are like the worst kind of sex guru, I swear. Stella will fuck any guy as long as they don’t want to date her, and Johnathan just wants to date everyone and falls in love with a new flavor of the day.”

Thanksgiving

November 28th, 10:03 AM

Cowboy: Happy Thanksgiving. I hope you have a good day with the kids.

10:14 AM

Aw, thanks. Happy Thanksgiving to you, too, stranger. I don’t have the kids this year. Are you spending the day with your brother and Gran?

10:15 AM

Cowboy: I’m sure you miss them. Gran went to Maine, and Jeremy is still overseas. I’m solo.

10:34 AM

That sucks, I’m sorry. How does Thanksgiving look in Japan?

10:35 AM

Cowboy: Actually, I’m not there yet. I’m still up in Texarkana. They’ve been keeping me really busy.

10:36 AM