"Someday, I'll be falling without caution
But for now, I'm only people watching
I'm only looking just to live through you vicariously
I've never really been in love, not seriously"

- Conan Gray, "People Watching"

Chapter Two

That night provided no progress on packing, but Thursday morning was exhaustingly busy. The day was a swirl of sorting clothes, digging through junk drawers, and cursing the number of items I owned.

Where did I even get half of this crap?

The apartment had been my home for years. Objects had wormed their way into every possible nook and cranny. Closets were discovered to hold more than I thought, drawers were never-ending supplies of randomness, and I couldn't figure out why I had so many kitchen gadgets. I hardly knew how to cook. If a recipe veered beyond the basics, it was like putting a child in a spaceship and telling them to get to Mars — it wasn't happening. The tools were entirely useless to me; it was beyond my understanding why I owned them at all.

I spent the day deciding what to keep. Did I really need a garlic press? Or the spare wheels I believed actually went to furniture long discarded? It would be terrible if I got rid of something, only to then discover I really did need it, but I also couldn't imagine lugging all my junk across the country.

And even regardless of need, there was an urge to throw it all away. To stray to a 'new city, new me' mentality – the nagging desire to cut the ties that bind and allow it to consume my packing. To give in to the singing urge to reinvent myself.

It was a chance to start over.

I was moving one step closer to my dream of being a diplomat. I had cried, bled, and stayed up all night studying foreign policy for the chance of a beautiful future. I'd sacrificed friends for internships, Saturday nights for tears over textbooks, and boyfriends for LinkedIn connections. I'd given up years of my prime for it.

I gave up having a life so I could have a future.

I had watched friends get engaged, married, pregnant, and travel. I'd watched them be happy. It hurt I didn't feel the same happiness they seemed to feel. Or at least, I didn't feel it quite yet. But one day I would feel it. One day I'd also be gleeful and content, and I knew I couldn't take my eyes off the prize before then. 

Besides, I felt at least some happiness even now from my career, and one day I'd feel it all. One day I'd have everything I'd ever wanted, and it wouldn't matter that I was 'behind' my friends. I wasn't entirely sure I even wanted a relationship or a family, but I knew I wanted success. And that was okay.

And yet, I'd be lying if I said a part of me wasn't anxious. What if I did want a family, or someone to hold, but one day it became too late? What if there was an invisible threshold where I missed out on any chance of life?

When I was no longer in my twenties, and no longer young, would I be ready to live then? Would I discover I was too late?

Kennedy loathed this thought process. While she shared her concerns sometimes that I was obsessed with work, or that I seemed lonely, she also felt concerned about the anxieties I carried. It was silly, she reasoned, to compare yourself to the curated posts of social media or the timelines of others.

She was right. Of course, I knew she was, but it didn't do much to ease my distress. A voice of reason only echoed in the caverns of fear I was too scared to explore. But even if she couldn't alter my lurking worries, sometimes I needed her voice of reason to remind me to tuck the fears away. She slapped my negative thoughts down and chastised me with 'you're not alone, everyone moves at a different pace'.

But I know there's a chance I could end up alone.

At least I would be a diplomat, right? I thought 'U.S. Ambassador Avery Woodsen' had a nice ring to it. And maybe it was okay I would be alone. Who said I needed someone, anyway? I had my dog.

My dog, who was becoming increasingly agitated and excited as I worked my way through the apartment. I wished I could look Rolo in the eyes and reassure him he was coming with me; I'd never leave him behind.

Over my dead body, bud.

I checked my watch and suppressed a curse, tripping over a box and stumbling to the shower. Kennedy and I had agreed to a goodbye dinner. It was only Thursday but the party was on Friday, and the weekend would afford little time for breaks. The movers came on Monday. My calendar further devolved from there; there were limited opportunities left for late nights with Kennedy. By the same time next week, I'd be on the road, heading to a short visit with my parents before driving to my version of the Emerald City.

I hurried to get ready. I never wore jeans during the week due to dress codes, but I shimmied into a pair, feeling like a truant skipping school. I couldn't help but wonder what I'd be doing if I was at work. In truth, I'd probably still be at the office, time slipping by, as my coworkers slowly but surely all headed home.

Is it busy? Do they need me? Should I call and check in?

It was an odd feeling to know the office kept buzzing, kept moving, but I'd never again be a part of the hive rotation.

With a few swipes of mascara and a few pats to Rolo's head, I was heading out the door. The California air was heavy and dry, strong Santa Ana winds rumbling across the flat plains, slowed by gentle rolling hills.

Oliver would be joining us despite his offer to allow us time alone. I didn't mind. Oliver had been a part of Kennedy's heart, and therefore a part of our friendship, for several years now. He'd also offered to swing by on Monday and help with the movers, an offer I'd gratefully accepted.

Oliver was a good man. I was thrilled my best friend had found someone like him.

The restaurant was peak California hipster, with overpriced cocktails and clever dish names under aesthetically dim lights. Kennedy and Oliver were already comfortably seated in a booth in the back. Oliver's arm was slung over Kennedy with ease, and he eyed the décor, judgement and deep thought scrunching his face. He was probably comparing it to his own restaurant.

After years of being together, seeing them interact was like watching a carefully choreographed routine between two experienced dance partners. No surprises what came next; no doubts to slow them down. There was only full comfort and trust in the other person to hold, encourage, and support. They'd mastered the ability to perform easy adjustments to whatever the other person said or did. It was clear just by being around them how much comfort radiated between them; this was two people so deeply secure in their place in the relationship.

Would I get that one day? Do I need that? Hell, do I want that?

"Avery!" Oliver called as I headed towards the table.

"Hey." 

I smiled warmly as I slid into the booth and picked up the drink menu. I already knew what I wanted, but I perused it lightly anyway. Kennedy turned to me with a mischievous glint in her eye as she flagged down a waiter.

"So, how's the packing going?"

"Great, no thanks to you."

"Oh, so no packing happened last night?" Oliver jumped in with a grin. "All those hours over there, and there's nothing to show for it, huh?" 

He turned to his fiancé, a teasing lilt in his voice she returned with gusto.

"Oh, don't worry, there's plenty for you to do on Monday, babe." She leaned in and pecked his lips with her own sly smile, encouraging a rumbling laugh from her partner in the small space between them.

Oliver shook his head and turned back to me. "What time do you want me to come over? Ken has to work, but I can be there whenever."

"Thanks. I could really use the help, even if it's just distracting Rolo. He's going to have a meltdown when the movers come into the apartment. But come whenever, I'll be up early getting ready."

The waitress sauntered over and pulled out a notebook from the half apron tied around her waist, stalling our conversation. Before long, she was back with our drinks. 

Kennedy took a long sip, her usual order colorful and vibrantly alcoholic in her hands. "What time are you picking me up tomorrow?"

"The party is at 7:00, so 6:30? We can do any touchups before we go, and hopefully we'll miss the bulk of traffic."

Kennedy nodded and fiddled with her straw wrapper, her voice now low and grumbly. "I still can't believe you're leaving. I'm happy for you, but I'm also mad. How could you leave right before my wedding?"

My teeth tugged at my lip as I paused, watching her eyes dart around the restaurant and avoid mine. I knew Kennedy. I knew this wasn't really about the wedding. This was about the move.

"I'm still available by phone, Ken. And I'll see you in a couple weeks for your bachelorette trip. I'm still your maid of honor." I gently placed my hand over hers on the table, giving it a squeeze.

She looked up at me from the pieces of straw wrapper scattered across the table.

"It's going to be really weird without you here. Where am I going to go when Oliver is annoying? What am I going to do without Rolo?"

"I know Rolo will miss you, but I have a feeling you'll be in D.C. before you know it to come see us. As for Oliver, I don't know. He can be pretty annoying." 

I looked at him, raising my brow; he held up a hand in defeat before light-heartedly shaking his head.

"Hell, just take Ken with you," he joked, looping his arm around Kennedy's waist. He squeezed her tightly into his side once more.

"Very funny," she muttered. She shoved him off, but not before a small smile betrayed her.

"So, Oliver, what's the latest with the restaurant? I heard there's some issues with your chefs," I said.

Oliver sighed, slouched in his seat. "I don't know. The chefs are acting really strange, and Chef Kim isn't on his A-game lately. The owner's threatening to have a serious meeting with him and the sous if they don't get it together soon."

"Maybe that's exactly what they need. Maybe they'll get it together when they see how much is at stake," I suggested.

Kennedy giggled.

"I know that wasn't a pun, but you had such a golden opportunity!" She burst into laughter, bright and unapologetically out of place in the restaurant. Oliver turned to her, confused, before his face lifted with a slow smile; his eyes watched warmly as she tossed her head back in snorty chuckles.

The way he looks at her.

"At stake, it's a steakhouse," she choked out. I fought the urge to roll my eyes but eventually relented with a slight form of amusement. With a breath, Ken eventually paused her laughing and gave me a look before slyly turning to Oliver.

"Like she said, maybe they need to get together." She threw me another suggestive look. Oliver didn't notice as he slowly nodded.

"I don't know if a meeting will help, but it might be worth a shot. I just don't want to make it worse by throwing them in a room together with an angry Mr. Shun."

Kennedy suppressed a giggle, catching my eye as I tried to hide my laugh into my drink. I knew that wasn't the type of 'get together' she'd been talking about, but we wouldn't lead horses to water. Conversation wandered from there; light chatter took up most of dinner before Kennedy cleared her throat. She looked at me sternly.

"Listen, you and I both know I'm not a bridezilla. I also know you're starting a new job, so if you need me to take over some of the wedding stuff you've been working on, I will. No hard feelings. Or we can just forget about most of what you were handling altogether, if we have to. I don't want to burden you."

Her gaze was fiercely determined, and I was speechless. I'd been so stressed about the move and the new job that the wedding had admittedly moved to a back burner. But I hadn't allowed myself to fall behind, or neglect anything.

... not by much, anyway.

"I meant what I said, Ken. I'm still your maid of honor. You can't get rid of me that easily," I finally got out, a lump swelling in my throat.

All Kennedy ever wanted growing up was to get married and have a family. It meant everything to her. It both broke my heart and fed my soul to know she'd prefer I forgot about some parts of her wedding than be overwhelmed.

"You and I both know I wouldn't let you, anyway. I don't let things go very easily," I assured. "Especially not a wedding you've been planning since you were five."

It was her turn to reach across the table as she nodded. Both of us shared a warm smile and an understanding.

I won't let you down, Ken.

Sorry, another author's note, but the song attached above is REALLY true to Avery's character and I wanted to emphasize it. It's also a really good song that I may or may not relate to on a very deep personal level.

That is all.

- H