Reunion: A Novel by Hannah Pittard

Author:Hannah Pittard [Pittard, Hannah]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Grand Central Publishing
Published: 2014-10-07T00:00:00+00:00

23

showering after dinner

After dinner, I go upstairs to shower in the guest bathroom and give the real grown-ups a chance to talk about me behind my back. It’s becoming clearer and clearer that I’ve got some issues that need sorting out.

I check my phone. Two more calls from Billy, no messages, nothing from Peter. Against my better judgment, perhaps against any judgment at all, I send a new text to Peter. I’ll do anything. Which is funny, because right after I send it, my very first thought is Well, actually, no I won’t. Then, a minute later—as if to test a theory—I write, Please take me back. PLEASE. And it’s like the theory might be valid, because my first thought after this text is But I’ll be okay if you don’t. I’m tempted to try one more, to nip this entire thing in the bud once and for all. But something stops me. It’s as though I don’t want to see what’s right in front of me. Not yet.

I take my phone with me to the bathroom—the game is afoot with Mindy and I know for a fact that my belongings (and more so, my privacy) are no longer safe—and I take, like, an hour-long shower. I turn on only the hot water, step under, and stand there. My skin gets pink and blotchy. I start itching. I don’t even care. At some point, I get tired of standing and I let myself sink to the floor of the tub. Bad things live in bathtubs. Take a look sometime. Take a look at the little crevices between the tiles, the ones that once upon a time used to be white. There are entire families of germs living in those crevices, whole planets, entire solar systems. I don’t doubt it for a second.

Here is what I’m thinking: I’m thinking that at some point soon I’m going to have to stop moping about and walking around feeling sorry for myself and make a decision about what to do next. At some point, much sooner perhaps than I’d like, I’m going to have to shake this wallowing off. There’s a very good chance that my marriage is over for good; there’s even a chance I’m happier about that than I’m letting on. What’s certain is that it’s beyond my control, which is probably what’s making me try so hard. I don’t want Peter to get the deciding vote. That just seems wrong. What’s also certain is that my debt isn’t going away, but my paychecks are, at least for the summer. A natural extension of that fact, then, is that I need money. Now. Eighteen thousand dollars. Marcy has made me an offer—an unbelievable offer—but it’s one I can’t consider.

What all this amounts to is going back to Chicago when the funeral nonsense is over, packing my things, renting a place, finding a summer job, and moving out. I’ll sign whatever Peter puts in front of me. It’ll be that simple and that messy.

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