For Now: A Novel Read online

  I decided to call Emma. As predicted, she was both shocked and excited. She was coming over today to see the new place despite telling her I lacked anywhere but the floor to sit. Best friends were good for things like sitting on the floor with you in your new empty house and drinking wine. The thought reminded me that I needed to go to the grocery store. I could let her sit on the floor, but I couldn’t let her starve.

  I stood up from my laptop perched next to my sleeping bag and made my way from the bedroom to the kitchen. For a two-bedroom, it was even larger than I expected. It offered plenty of closet space, something I imagine Bett’s daughter updated after moving in. The kitchen and bathroom were also renovated and featured all new tile and appliances. The tub and sinks were both new as well. I liked that they kept the original hardwood floor throughout though. It made the place feel authentic. The living room had built-ins on both sides of the small fireplace I had been informed did in fact work. Off the kitchen was a door leading out to a sunroom, which was probably my favorite thing about this home. Natural light shined in at just the right angle when the sun was going down that I didn’t even have to shade my face. I decided to make it my office even if it was an unconventional space. Why not? Sure, people probably didn’t usually set up their offices in their sunrooms but I knew it was where I wanted it the moment I saw it.

  I walked to my fridge and swung open the door. Last night I bought bottled water. Just bottled water. I grabbed one, took a few sips, and put it back. I’d spent part of the morning compiling a grocery list and the rest checking email on my phone. Still nothing from my lawyer. I didn’t really understand what the delay was. I agreed to everything. He got the new car, we sold the house and split it, and he agreed to let me keep the furniture. He didn’t need it where he was going. I’d burned everything else in a trash can after two bottles of wine.

  The grocery store was fairly close as was an array of shops and places that would come in handy. I even saw a gym. Maybe I could join. Granted, I hadn’t done a lot of working out in the last few…years. It was never too late to start back up. I made my way back into the kitchen with both arms full of bags. I always opted for the reusable bags. While I knew I was doing a good thing for the environment, it was mostly because they held a lot more stuff in them and were much easier to carry. But if anyone asked, it was definitely because of the environment. Next door to the market, I found a Target where I bought new dishes, silverware, pans, and some towels. I figured it was enough until I mustered up the motivation to get more. I put everything away fairly quickly and threw the dishes in the dishwasher to give them a rinse before I put them away.

  Just a few minutes later, I heard a knock at the door. I checked the time. Emma was half an hour early, which was normal. In the more than dozen years I’d known her, she’d never been late for anything.

  I opened the door and there she stood, practically bouncing on her heels with excitement.

  “Delilah! I can’t believe you’re here!” Emma wrapped what felt like her entire body around me. She was slightly shorter than me and had always been rather petite in comparison. Her short blonde bob bounced like it had a mind of its own.

  “Emma!” I said. “I can’t either, but here I am. Your complete and total wreck of a friend, rebuilding her life from the ground up. Something tells me I need to be in close proximity to my best friend if I’m going to do that.”

  Emma gave me her heartfelt tilted head and rubbed my shoulder.

  I welcomed her in and gave her a quick tour of the place before we sat down with wine and snacks on the floor of the sunroom. We caught up on trivial things. I hadn’t seen her in almost two years, but we talked at least once a week on the phone. She told me about her husband’s new job and her new shop. I told her my furniture would be here tomorrow and she volunteered to come by and help as soon as she was off work. She said she’d bring her husband to help with the heavy lifting. David was a nice guy and always treated Emma really well. She seemed happy and that was all that mattered to me. I was her Maid of Honor when she became Mrs. David King about six years ago. He was your average guy. Middle management and family values. He was genuine and fairly boring in my opinion but I would never say that out loud.

  “So how’s your new book coming along?” she asked. Emma was kind enough to skip over recapping the entire past year. She was the person I called after he left and every other day after that for a while. She went over all the details with me. Except for the ones I intentionally kept from her. So, at the moment, I was perfectly happy skipping straight to a bit of normalcy.

  “All right, I suppose. I’m pretty happy with the first draft. I sent it to my agent yesterday so I’m just waiting to hear back,” I said.

  Emma owned signed copies of every single one of my novels. Granted, there were only three, but still. She’d called me on the phone to congratulate me for making it to the New York Times Bestseller list when each of them made it there. I always attempted to send her copies, but she insisted on buying them herself. She said it was her way of supporting me. She’d mailed each of them to me to sign after she bought them. Three books in the last four years.

  I couldn’t manage to get one out last year. I couldn’t manage to do much of anything last year. So the new novel, set to release in a few months, was very anticipated by the masses.

  “What’s it about?” Emma asked.

  “Well, it’s about a woman who finds out her husband is cheating on her and plots to kill both her husband and the woman, but ends up having a change of heart,” I said.

  “Oh, wow!” I could tell Emma was genuinely excited but also a little apprehensive about what to ask next.

  “Don’t worry,” I said, shooting her a grin, “it’s just fiction.”

  We spent the rest of the evening reminiscing about the old days in a way we hadn’t had the chance to in quite a while. We laughed about old boyfriends, and I reminded her about her horrible perm in 11th grade right before prom. It was nice to remember moments like that with her. It was nice to laugh in a way that felt real, in a way that felt less than forced. I decided I needed to do more of it.

  We said our goodbyes, and she said she’d be back tomorrow with David. I hugged her at the front door and locked it behind her. I made my way to the bedroom to change and lie down. I pulled out my phone and scrolled through my emails. There it was.

  An email from Donna of Rabenowitz and Sons’s Law Offices. I held my breath for a moment. Do I want to open it? What do I want it to say?

  I clicked on the email, my hands shaky, my breath unsteady. It was fairly short.

  Hello, Ms. Spencer,

  Good news. Jeff has agreed to all the terms of the finalized divorce paperwork and has signed them. You’re officially divorced. Also, I don’t know if I should be telling you this, but he mentioned it to me on the telephone and I thought you should know. His girlfriend is pregnant. Call me if you have any questions and please send me your new mailing address.

  Take care, Delilah.

  -Donna

  Great. I’m a divorced woman. And she’s pregnant. My hand crept over my stomach. I rolled over and pulled my knees to my chest. I pulled my sleeping bag up over my entire body and let the darkness swallow me. I was going to sleep for as long as my body would allow me. But it wouldn’t be long enough.

  Chapter Three

  Two days later, I sat at my kitchen table while everyone moved around me. And when I say everyone, I mean, Emma and her husband, David. I sipped coffee and they helped the movers put my furniture in place. Emma directed them where to put each piece. Everything was fuzzy. I wasn’t paying attention to what anyone was saying. I came back into focus when Emma put her hand on my shoulder.

  “We’re almost done, babe,” she said. There was no enthusiasm in her voice.

  “Thank you, Emma.”

  As promised, Emma had called me the day before, but I didn’t answer. I was in and out of sleep all day and forced myself to fall back asleep whenever I was startled awake by
the ringing. I didn’t even have the energy to roll over and silence it. When the movers had knocked on the door, I made it to my feet long enough to agree to pay extra for them to return with it the next day. I had completely forgotten. Or maybe I just didn’t care. I retreated into my sleeping bag as soon as I closed the door. When Emma knocked a little while later, I’d answered the door, crying mostly, trying to get out the words. She’d left David on the porch and walked me back into my bedroom. All she did was hold me. I cried and managed between sobs to tell her about the horrid email. The email that both set me free and chained me down. I wasn’t sure I’d ever read anything more bittersweet.

  She handled everything for me today. She fixed food and forced me to eat at least a little of it. David offered to hang everything for me. I only had two photographs left. There was a black and white picture of my mother from when she was younger that I always loved. The other was a print of the cover of my first book that Vera sent to me. He made easy work of it and I was grateful. Part of me just wanted them to leave and I felt terrible for that. Another part of me wanted them to stay forever. Most of me, however, didn’t give a fuck what happened.

  “I’ll be back to check on you tomorrow and I’ll make you some food.” Emma hugged me goodbye, followed by David.

  “Thank you guys so much for all your help. I’d be lost without you,” I said. And it was true.

  I checked the time. Only 5:30 p.m. They did a pretty good job considering how useless I was. All right, Delilah. You’ve got a choice to make. I had to decide if I was going to crawl back into bed or actually do something. My Bed! It was here! Not a sleeping bag on the floor, a bed. My bed. You never really realize how much you take for granted until you have to go a while without it. My excitement for my bed almost erased my sadness. Almost.

  I walked down the short hallway to the door of my bedroom. Oh, God, I love her. Emma didn’t just see to it that my bed was assembled, but she found my bedding, clearly de-wrinkled it in the dryer, and made it up for me. It was pristine. Perfectly tucked and folded, pillows fluffed, and she even turned down my side. It looked so inviting. No, Delilah.

  I took a shower instead. The water was nearly as hot as it could be. I could feel my knotted self start to unravel a little. I dropped my shoulders, bowed my head, and let the water run over me for a good fifteen minutes before I grabbed the soap. I made quick work of my body and hair, and then I just stood here again. Another ten minutes passed before I turned off the water and stepped out.

  I got dressed and dried my hair but there was no need for makeup, so I grabbed my shoes and headed for the living room. In the past, I always went on walks when I needed pretty much anything and that’s what life called for right now. I walked to clear my head, to think about a project, to gain inspiration. I walked when I was upset, when I was happy, when I just needed to breathe. I grabbed my house key, slid it into my front pocket, and walked out onto the front porch.

  The day Jeff left, I took a walk. I walked for hours. Maybe I just needed to be away from the house we shared. I didn’t really know; I just kept walking. I didn’t know what I thought that was going to solve. I walked and I cried. I walked past neighboring houses, across the road, into the park, out of the other side of the park, and eventually I started circling back around. I cried the entire time. When I finally made it back to my porch, I stopped crying. I wiped my cheeks clean, rubbed my eyes, and straightened myself up. And I hadn’t cried since. Not until two days ago when I read that email. Why did she have to tell me about the pregnancy? Why did she even mention it? It would have been just as easy to leave it out. The damage was done now. No use dwelling on it. Except I was probably going to do just that for at least a week.

  I was lost in thought when I heard a vaguely familiar voice cutting in.

  “Oh, hello again!” I heard. It was a deep voice.

  I whirled my head around toward its direction. There was a man standing up on a porch, smiling widely and waving. Who the hell is that? I turned around to see who he might be talking to but I was the only person as far as I could see.

  “I’m talking to you, silly!” he said, pointing straight at me.

  I still had no idea who he was, and he must have read my expression. He took a few steps toward me, and I took a few back. He stopped, sensing my apprehension.

  “I’m sorry. We met in the diner a few days ago. Well, we didn’t really meet. We bumped into each other,” he said.

  Oh, that guy. “Oh, hi. Sorry, I didn’t recognize you,” I said.

  “That’s all right, I shouldn’t have expected you to.” He took another step toward me, and I took another step back.

  I didn’t say anything but I stood here not moving long enough for the silence to grow a little uncomfortable.

  “I’m Samuel,” he finally said.

  “I’m Delilah.” I looked up and down the street at the surrounding houses.

  “So do you live around here?” he asked.

  “Just a couple of streets over. I just moved in,” I said.

  “Ah! Well, welcome to the neighborhood! If you ever need anything, you know where to find me now,” he offered.

  “Yeah, thanks,” I said. That sounded so cold. After the next bit of silence, I cut him off before he could ask anything else. “I really should be going. Sorry again for bumping into you. Bye,” I said as I was already turning to walk away.

  “Oh, it’s really no problem! I’ll see you around, Delilah,” he called after me.

  I was already a few steps away with my back toward him. No, you won’t, I thought.

  Emma sent me a text the next morning.

  Emma: I’ll be there soon, anything in particular you want to eat?

  Me: Wine?

  Emma: I’ll bring you a sandwich and some fruit from Panera.

  Me: Close enough.

  If she’s going to be here soon, I should probably get up. I had another shower, because well, it passed the time in a way that didn’t feel excruciating. But it was also when I felt the most relief. I was probably the cleanest person walking around these days, so I had that going for me.

  I walked into the sunroom where my desk and writing materials were assembled with expert hands. My laptop sat open but off. Last night, I tried to sit and write something after my walk but I didn’t have any luck. I just wanted to get it out, to vent mostly. What I ended up with was a Word document with two words on it. “I’m sorry.” I quickly erased it when I realized it looked like the start of a suicide note, and that certainly wasn’t my intention. I wanted to write my now ex-husband a letter. I wanted to write it for the entire year following the day he walked out, but I never found the words. Maybe one day I would know what I wanted to say and how to say it.

  I walked past my desk and crossed the room to the far corner. I peered outside, into my backyard, and watched two squirrels scurry up and down the tree. The leaves hadn’t quite started to fall, so I imagined they were hard at work storing nuts for the winter months. What a life. You spend your entire existence gathering food and sleeping. I need that life right about now.

  I watched for a few more envious moments until I heard a knock at the door. Emma. I made my way to the front door quickly, assuming her arms were full of food and I was right. I took some of it from her when I opened the door, and we walked to the kitchen table together.

  We took a seat across from each other and she started shoveling out food onto a plate for me. She’d even ordered me a large green tea. I did my best to eat what she gave me. My bites were slow, small, and deliberate, but it was a start.

  “Do you have any plans today?” she asked.

  “No, not really,” I said. I had been fortunate enough to gain a level of success that meant I didn’t have to hold a day job. I could write full time, which meant during the times when I wasn’t able to write anything, I had a lot of filling to do. Sometimes it was easy and sometimes it was difficult, depending on my mood.

  “Well, you’ve got to do something with your time
. You can’t just mope around every day. You’ll get fat,” she joked.

  But she was right. I had to move. “I saw a gym down the street. I used to go pretty regularly once upon a time. Back at home. I mean, back in Nashville,” I said. This is home now.

  “That’s the gym I use, too! You could probably even walk there from here if you really wanted,” she said.

  She certainly seemed more excited about it than I did. “Okay, I’ll go sign up today. It won’t hurt to have somewhere to let off some steam.”

  “Do you think you’ll be dating soon?” she asked.

  I shot her a look that probably instantly made her regret asking. “No.”

  “Well, I was only asking because I know this great guy I think you would like. He…”

  “NO,” I said, cutting her off mid-sentence. I didn’t shout, but I was forceful about it.

  “I understand,” she said.

  She didn’t mean anything by it. And truth be told, no one else would think it was too soon for her to ask. I had been separated for a solid year now. I think by this point, people expect you to at least be open to the idea. In all that time, I didn’t even think about dating. I still wasn’t thinking about dating. But it was a fair question, I guess. I just had no interest. And Emma had spent our entire friendship looking out for me in a way only true friends would understand. It was quite motherly or sisterly.