I’d have to make her believe we were real, the way I had to make everyone believe it. I had to set up these foundations that I’d eventually have to tear down.
The lie just kept getting deeper and deeper. And I hated it. Not because I had to tell it, but because I wished it weren’t a lie.
I showed Mom how to set up Benny on dialysis. I had to admit, that was a major bonus of her being here. Mom was a nurse, and she was very capable of sharing this load. Having two of us who could do this would give Benny the flexibility of doing his dialysis pretty much whenever he wanted to, even when I was at work. He wouldn’t have to wait for me to get home.
When I finally went up to bed, it was eleven and I had four missed texts from Jacob. One making sure I got home okay. Another one thanking me for letting him come to Wakan, and two more with some selfies we took yesterday. I smiled at the selfies.
I’d loved the last two days so much. I loved just being with him. Talking to him, doing things with him. When I was with Jacob, it didn’t matter where we were, I didn’t want to be anywhere else. He was like that terrarium in his plant room. A self-sustaining ecosystem. Everything I needed or wanted was wrapped up into one human being. It didn’t even seem possible.
It occurred to me that this is what true compatibility must feel like. Easy. Being with Jacob was easy in a way that I never knew existed. And it made me realize how much of my marriage had been forced. How we never had anything to talk about. How he didn’t seem to like my family or make any effort to get to know them or Alexis. Even things like vacations. I’d want to explore and he’d want to relax. These things seemed insignificant at the time, just small differences of opinion or minute preferences. But they glared now. Like proof that something was off and always had been. That maybe I’d married a six out of ten on the compatibility scale—which can work with effort. But Jacob was a ten out of ten. A yes/yes. Jacob didn’t take work.
Jacob was perfect.
I made one of the pictures of us my screensaver and moved all the icons away from his face so he wasn’t covered. I liked seeing his smile looking back from my phone.
I’d have to take this down when we broke up. Wouldn’t be appropriate then. But I could have it for now.
When I called him, he answered right away.
“Hey. You’re not sleeping, are you?” I asked.
“No. Just journaling. You got home okay?”
I climbed onto my bed. “Yeah. My mom is here.”
“From Arizona?”
“Yup.” I punched a pillow under my head. “She’s here for Benny’s transplant.”
“Oh. Can I meet her?”
I laughed a little. “You want to meet more of my people? You haven’t had enough?”
“Well, I didn’t enjoy Doug very much, but I liked Alexis and Daniel.”
“Okay, Doug is not my people. I do not claim him.”
He chuckled.
“My mom actually does want to meet you,” I said. “And your family.”
“Great. Let’s set it up.”
Again with the enthusiastic meeting of my inner circle. This man was really putting in the work for this charade.
“What if your family slips?” I said, lowering my voice. “About the kidney. Benny and my mom don’t know you’re his donor.”
“We could just tell them.”
I wrinkled my forehead. “Tell them? I thought you didn’t want a bunch of people knowing.”
“I can handle two more.”
I twisted my lips. “I don’t know…”
“What?”
“These two people are going to be a lot. There’s probably going to be crying and hugging.”
“It’s okay.”
It was a little weird that he was so willing to do this. All of this. I mean I had to know his family for the thing, but he didn’t necessarily need to know mine. It seemed like extra work for him.
“You’re so social lately,” I said.
“I want to know your friends and your family.”
I don’t know why, but his words gripped me right in the heart. I guess because that’s what a real boyfriend would do. Want to meet the people I loved. He was probably doing this because introducing my family to his made this fake relationship feel more authentic. I couldn’t really think of another reason why he’d want our families to meet, especially because meeting people he didn’t know was his least favorite thing in the universe.
“Okay,” I said. “How do you want to do it? Do you want me to tell them you’re Benny’s kidney donor before you see them? I feel like if I do it in front of you, it’ll be awkward.”
“Sure.”
“When do you want to do the family meet-and-greet thing?”
“Let me call Mom and see what day works for her.”
“All right.” I yawned.
Then we just stayed on the phone for a moment, not saying anything.
This time last night I was in bed with him in Wakan. I wished I were in bed with him now too. I’d see him at work tomorrow, but it wasn’t the same.
“Jill came back over today,” he said.
It was weird, because I felt like he said it to remind me that we were supposed to be living together. Like he was thinking about me being there with him too.
“When your mom meets my family, she’s going to tell them you’re living at home,” he said.
Oh, crap. I hadn’t thought about that.
“We could always tell her the truth,” I said. “Like, the actual truth. That we’re not dating.”
“No,” he said quickly. “I don’t like that. It’s going to get out.”
I sighed. “Okay. Let me think on this. I’ll figure something out.” I rubbed my eyes. “I have to go to sleep. I’ll see you tomorrow, okay?”
“All right. I’ll see you tomorrow. Good night.”
But then we didn’t hang up.
I waited for the moment of disconnect. I wanted him to do it. It couldn’t be me, at least not tonight. But it never happened.
We stayed on the phone in silence. Thirty seconds. A minute. Two.
He’d probably just forgotten to hang up. His phone was probably sitting on his desk and he was back to scribbling in his journal and he didn’t even notice the call hadn’t ended. Only I didn’t hear scribbling. I could only hear the soft trickling of the fountain in his plant room.
Maybe he’d set the phone down and left? But for a moment, I allowed myself to believe that he was doing what I was doing. He was keeping me for a few extra precious moments.
I let myself reach across the silence. I was looking at him now in my mind. His soft, tender eyes, the curve of his lips. The tic in his jaw when he was giving me one of his quiets. The one I didn’t know.
I could feel him through the line. I could smell him. He was becoming 3-D, shaped by my memory of the constant study of his face and his movements and his moods. He floated in front of me like a ghost, coming through the thin connection of our phones.
I wanted to run to him. To walk out of this place and get in my car and go straight to his house. Burst into his plant room while he sat at that desk and throw myself at him and take whatever he was willing to give me, no matter how small, or temporary, or insignificant. I could feel my body and my heart and my mind wrestling with one another. One screaming for him, the other one too afraid to act, and the last one arguing rationally that this would be a terrible, terrible idea.