And now, Ray and I were sitting across from each other in the small living room of Neils house, toasting the future.
Ray finally left just after midnight, riding high on the optimism of a man in love and fueled by just the right amount of wine. I watched him pull out of the driveway and stood there, looking out at the stillness of the street, before I closed the door against the blackness of the night. The house felt quiet and so very empty after so much excitement, and I wondered fleetingly if this was what it was always going to be likesending everyone home only to be left by myself, alone with the void.
I sighed against the exhaustion that was quickly closing in, bringing with it all the feelings of hopelessness that so easily win the fight when youre already too tired to go another round. I flopped down on the guest room bed and picked up the journal Id moved from Neilsmybedroom, along with my alarm clock and pillow.
I uncapped my pen and began to write.
Dear Neil,
The water heater exploded today. Well, maybe not so much exploded as sprung a leak. I feel so horrible that it happened while you were away, like maybe it was somehow my fault, but Ray seems to think it would have happened even if youd been here. Something faulty in the lines, or so he says. I dont know if I can trust a coffee guy to shoot me straight on water heater malfunctions, though. The only things he knows how to fix involve copious amounts of caffeine, foam, and froth, and I have a feeling that this will take much more than simply tightening a loose bolt. Still, as a number-cruncher, I hardly feel qualified to argue with him.