“Mom, you’re in the way.”
She raised an eyebrow and moved a hand to her hip. “I’m in the way? Last I checked, this was my house.” Dad picked up the remote from where it sat on the empty sofa cushion between us and turned off the TV, scooting infinitesimally away from me.
“Uh. Okay. Sorry?” I looked at my dad, silently asking him what was going on with Mom. He didn’t respond. His fingernails were apparently fascinating.
“Jenna, it’s Saturday night.”
“Did you want to watch the movie with us?”
My mother blinked heavily and exhaled. “I want you to get out.”
My stomach dropped. She was my mom. She wasn’t supposed to kick me out, even if I was almost thirty-five and camping out indefinitely in my childhood bedroom. “Where am I supposed to go? I don’t get paid over the summer.”
“I don’t mean you have to move out. I mean, yes, I do. You have to move out. But I don’t mean tonight. I mean, you need to start going out and seeing people. And doing things. And not watching Caddyshack with your father on a Saturday night. Or else you’re going to be living here until you’re our age.”
“It’s Groundhog Day,” my dad volunteered. “We watched Caddyshack last night. It’s a Bill Murray-a-thon.” Mom glared at him, and he stopped talking.
“I go out,” I grumbled.
“Happy hour on the last day of school doesn’t count.”
“Where do you want me to go, Mom? My friends are all married. It’s not like they’re going out to bars. They’re home. Most of them with their kids.”
“And if you don’t start going out, that’s never going to be you.”
I felt self-righteous tears pricking at my eyes. “That was me. I’m not even divorced yet.”
“By choice. If you signed that separation agreement and let him file, you could be free in a couple of months instead of dragging it out for a year. And if you let him out sooner, he’d sell the condo, and then you would have money to move out, even over the summer.”
I crossed my arms sulkily. Brad absolutely deserved to have to wait the full year of separation to file for divorce. I wasn’t going to make it easier on him by saying our separation was mutual so he and Taylor could be together guilt-free sooner. Even if stalking on social media had proven that she wasn’t actually a twenty-two-year-old blonde, I wasn’t feeling particularly generous toward my replacement.
My mother wasn’t deterred. “Also, those married friends have single friends. And you should be using online dating. Set up a Tinder account.”
“Ew! Mom! That’s mostly for sex!” My dad mimed smothering himself with a pillow.
“Match, then.”
“That’s for much older people.”
“Jdate.”
“People who are desperate to get married.”
“Look, I don’t care which one you use, but it’s time to get out there and meet people. Have you even put on a bra or makeup since school ended?” My father found a piece of lint on the sofa that completely engrossed him. “I’m not saying you need to get remarried right now, but you need to do something. I get that you needed to hide for a little while, but enough is enough. You can’t live in your childhood bedroom forever. You’re not in high school. You’re going to be thirty-five in a few weeks. It’s time to get your act together.”
I rose, stung, and stormed up the stairs without a word. I almost slammed my bedroom door, but that would only prove her point, so I shut it quietly instead and edged around the Peloton, which took up way too much space in the room but that I insisted on keeping. I had found Taylor on the app, and Taylor used hers daily. That didn’t prove they were living together, but either they were or Brad had bought a second one, because he was on a four-month streak as well.
I sank onto the double bed that had seemed so big when I transitioned from my twin at fifteen but that now hurt my back because the mattress was twenty years old, and my spine was about to enter the second half of its thirties. What am I going to do?
The reality was that I had no desire to date anyone. Not that I actually missed Brad either. Truth be told, I didn’t. He snored. He was frequently condescending. He belittled my job as less important than his. And he had terrible taste in music and movies.
Instead, I felt hollowed out. Like someone had taken a melon baller and scooped out all the pieces of who I actually was. Sure, I still looked like Jenna. But realizing my life was a total lie took a toll. I wasn’t ready yet to reemerge, admit that I had lost, and start again. I just didn’t have anything to give someone new. The well was empty.