So when Brandon took five minutes to call and ask about her day, she had something to talk about. Like the fact that Neveah, one of the girls she worked with, had never used a smartphone or that they were using textbooks from fifteen years ago. He listened and even asked a couple of questions, and she felt absolutely euphoric to have something, anything to occupy her mind instead of just Brandon and his possible feelings for her or lack thereof.
Marj made notes on her phone before going to bed, things she wanted to bring in or get for these kids. She was bringing her tablet obviously and thinking about getting a couple of reconditioned ereaders for the group. Their spelling and grammar were pretty bad, and she figured they hadn’t read enough, been around enough books maybe. She messaged the administrator about bringing in a big snack once a week for the whole group and the woman was thrilled but cautioned that there was a nut allergy and a strawberry allergy to be considered.
She had a project and it thrilled her. For the week he was gone, she missed him, but only at the edges because she kept so busy. She found out that the public library lent e-readers and e-books. She got a library card and checked out ten of the e-readers for use in the after-school program, signing a document that she’d replace them if lost or damaged. It was pretty nice to be able to do that, to have the ability to say that, yes, she’d easily spend a thousand dollars to replace a bunch of Kindles if they got lost. There was power and good to be done with money like this, better than bandage dresses and mascaras.
Marj researched the achievement gap and students living in poverty and what research said about boosting scores and motivation. It kept her busy. It didn’t stop her from being lonely for Brandon, but it gave her hope. Even if this program, this zeal to sponsor and help this group of kids, outgrew her, she would have volunteering experience and would learn from it. She could work with nonprofits after her divorce, could fill her days with good works. Britt would love it, she thought with a tinge of amusement. The cynical Marj, forever budgeting, was ready to blow some serious money on pizzas for the kids in aftercare and maybe a popcorn machine. It would be cheap to churn out high-fiber, filling popcorn for a regular snack, she thought. Surely some local business would love to donate juice or cups or fresh fruit on occasion. She made list after list on her phone and even described some of her plans to Brandon in their infrequent and brief phone conversations.
“Sounds like you’re taking over the world back there while I’m away,” he had teased.
“Just trying to help out the needy. Donate my time and your money—”
“Our money,” he corrected.
“For a little longer yet, I guess it’s ours. Make a difference. I’ve never done much of that, community service stuff. It’s surprisingly exciting,” she admitted.
“I was an Outward Bound instructor one summer. It was fantastic except the kids kept whining all the time that their feet hurt. I mean, you sign up to climb mountains all summer and then bitch about your feet? I didn’t have much patience for it.”
“So we can mark off ‘working with kids’ on your resume,” she deadpanned.
“Probably. Look, I’m glad you found something you like to do. I got the idea you were pretty bored, so this is good news. I’m proud of you.”
“Proud? Really?”
“Yes. Most people, if they came into money, the last thing they’d do is think about how to help people with it. You’re not just throwing money at it either. You’re giving your time, and you’re using the library and other community resources…it’s tremendous.”
“Thank you, Brandon. That actually means a lot to me,” Marj was glad he couldn’t see her because she was blushing. She’d probably never had a better compliment in all her life.
“Well, I mean it,” he said, his voice almost bashful.
There was something romantic to her about talking with him on the phone, about his voice in her ear, his words meant only for her. It felt personal and sent a welcome little shiver down her neck as if he whispered against her skin. She lingered over the call when they were out of things to say, just to be near him that way.
All the ideas and projects and research she’d crowded into her days and evenings fell away, and there was only her raw longing for her husband. She wanted to say she missed him. She needed him home, or she should have gone with him to LA because there was no way to self-protect with him because she’d already fallen hard. She had admitted as much to him but the more she thought about it, his response could have been a placeholder until he decided how to handle her declaration. It seemed the likeliest possibility, in fact. Especially in light of his total lack of any remark remotely affectionate to her. The compliment about her volunteer work was very nice but it was hardly romantic.