The Simpler Life

10

Chapter 10

Rory laid in bed, having no more than five minutes earlier woken from her Sunday afternoon nap. Naps were her moments of bliss these days, the pregnancy having made her ponder why people didn't take naps more regularly. Maybe the Italians were onto something with their siestas?

Thankfully her flexible work schedule enabled her to do just that. Late mornings. Naps in the afternoon. Baby gear browsing in the middle of the work day; at the moment still leaving her believing she wouldn't need half the stuff the stores were trying to convince her of needing. And on most days working until late at night. She was a night owl, and as long as she got to sleep in and nap - it seemed to be working both for her and the baby, who was letting herself be known more and more these days.

Being a little too lazy to get right up, Rory continued to scroll her feed, seeing people posting beautiful pictures of their lives. There was Olivia opening her own art gallery in Atlanta, the track team Janet was coaching had won some regional competition, her contact at the Atlantic had just had another baby, her old room-mate from her Brooklyn days was sitting on some tropical beach with her toes in the sand, there were pictures of engagement rings, puppies, meditation retreats and promotions. There was one of Paris, sitting at the Garret, complaining about a bad date she'd just had, but enjoying a cocktail by herself regardless of it.

Rory knew the reality was generally less pretty, but those were still real things that were in one way or another happening to people. She felt almost sad at that moment that she couldn't really flaunt her pregnancy. Not that she was ever a big social media user, she was more of a consumer if anything. But in this case, people would ask questions, and until Logan gave her the all clear, she didn't really want to lie to anyone. Some small part of her felt hopeful that she could tell people the truth, even if all she could just say that she was doing this by herself. Right now, Logan had left her in limbo.

A carousel section with suggested connections caught her eye next. There were a few of the 30-something-gang that she had by now gotten to know a little better and didn't completely hate, and on whom she clicked 'follow', a few unknowns with a multitude of mutual connections. But then her eyes stopped on a face she hadn't seen in years. She nearly wasn't sure she was seeing straight; the man's glasses having changed to a bolder Havana tortoise frame.

"Tucker Culbertson...," Rory mumbled to herself, surprising herself that she actually remembered his name. Fittingly to an academic even his profile picture was of him at his tenure recognition ceremony. Wesleyan, not Yale anymore, but still - respectable - Rory thought.

She hesitated on clicking 'follow', however, being unsure whether he actually remembered her. But she snapped a screenshot as a note - thinking maybe she would want to revisit the idea someday.

She did some self-reflection too, wondering why it was so easy for her to fall back on the guys she had dated or, in this case, liked in the past. Somehow new people seemed scary to her, she didn't trust people, despite having actively meeting new people day in and day out when she'd been working as a journalist. Did she really believe she'd already met the person she was supposed to build a life together? 'Supposed to' - she snorted to herself, sarcastically. It was not like she'd been a great believer in Or fortune tellers for that matter. It was funny how the old lady's words had haunted her though. She blamed it on the hormones.

Suddenly her phone pinged.

"Can you talk?" Logan texted her.

She replied with a quick 'ok' and sat up in bed, expectantly.

"Hey?" Rory exhaled as her phone rang.

Logan switched on Facetime. It was good to see his face, but a little painful too.