Saturday night, I decided to make dinner for Jen, Warren, Patrick, and me. We had all gathered at the apartment to watch the horrible tragedy unfold, and at about 6:00 I decided we all needed some food in our stomachs.
As we were eating, Patrick mentioned how good the food was. "Wow, Elaine, you're gonna make yourself fat when you get your own place and have to cook for yourself every day!"
Silence. See, I hadn't told Warren and Jen that I was planning on moving out March 1st. I found an apartment closer to downtown in an affordable price range and had already put the deposit down.
Warren and Jen looked at each other, and then at me. "Oh, um, Elaine, I guess you didn't mention to us that you were moving out so soon...or at all, even," Jen said with false cheer in her voice.
I shoveled the Chicken Parmesian around my plate.
"Yeah, well, I already gave Al (our landlord) the 30 days notice. I figured that you guys would enjoy the privacy and everything. I found this really cute place right off 3rd and I...couldn't let it pass up."
More awkward silence followed, and then Warren piped up: "Elaine, we don't want you to think that you have to move out. I mean, we like you here."
"No!" I replied, "No, of course I don't think that, it's just...it's just that ever since Grandpa Joe died, I have this urge to grow up and take care of myself. I guess having my own apartment will make me feel like I am doing that, you know? I mean, I'll probably be over here every day out of sheer lonliness anyway," I added.
Jen got up and hugged me. "You're welcome here any time."
Sunday I started organizing my room and throwing away junk that I don't need. (It's amazing how one accumulates so much junk, isn't it?) I also won a cute, red IKEA duvet cover on EBAY for my new bedroom.
I had to also clear out and put into storage all of Grandpa's belongings about a week ago. The house is officially going up for sale in one week.
Times, they are a-changin'.