by Cassie Beebe
“Cash or card, sweetheart?” the store clerk said with a volume and tone that indicated it wasn’t the first time she had asked.
“Oh, sorry. Uh, cash,” Jacob answered, handing over a few bills and quickly receiving his change.
When he made it out the front door, his eyes rapidly scanned the parking lot, but he didn’t see her. He searched harder as he walked to Callie’s car, but there weren’t many other cars in the lot for her to be hidden behind. She was gone.
As he sank into his borrowed car and closed the door behind him, his head fell back on the seat with a thump and he let out a deep sigh. The brief encounter riled his emotions, bringing to the surface all of the thoughts and memories he had successfully been repressing since he left Bellevue and New York City behind him. But now those questions were back, the drawer was open, and he wasn’t sure how to stuff them back in. With the flicker of hope that they might soon be answered, they seemed to have returned with fervor, no longer willing to be hidden away, shoved into the darkest corners of his mind for safe keeping and easy negligence. They demanded answers now, and they weren’t going to get any.
He opened his eyes and pulled his head up from its slump, staring down at the candy bar in his lap. He had gotten so caught up in the moment, not wanting to let Sarah out of his sight, that he forgot to look for a better meal option. He looked out the window at the store, but he didn’t want to deal with the hassle of a return, so he opened his candy with a grimace and took a bite as he started the car.
He thought about where he was headed next, but he couldn’t continue on with his day as if everything was normal. Not to mention the fact that he certainly wasn’t in the mood or mindset to make a good impression on any future employers at the moment, so he crumbled up the paper that held the rest of Callie’s application suggestions and stuffed it in his pocket.
He thought about going back to campus, imagined sitting in the privacy of his silent dorm room, staring at the wall and allowing all of the emotions to overtake him. He winced at the idea.
So, instead, he drove. He shoved the rest of the candy bar in his mouth, pulled quickly out of the parking lot, and took the nearest ramp onto the I-71, headed North. He didn’t know where he was going, but he had the day to kill, and driving was better than sitting and wallowing. He discovered fairly quickly that you can still sit and wallow while driving, but he did his best to keep his mind clear and focus on the road.
That didn’t last long. His thoughts kept drifting back to their conversation, to the look of slightly nervous surprise on her face when she saw him, to the engagement ring on her finger.
Engagement ring. He was sure of that, now. He recalled that wedding rings usually have an extra band, and hers didn’t. Yet.
But after stewing in his thoughts for nearly half an hour on the long stretch of highway, he realized that it wasn’t the ring that bothered him the most. It was everything else. It was her made-up face, cheeks colored to perfection with a bronze blush and eyes meticulously lined with a brown streak that pulled up into a slight wing at the edges. It was the clothes she wore – a flowy, pink-flowered sundress, when he had always pictured her in the jeans and t-shirt she wore on the farm, or pajama-clad, by his side on the couch, curled up with a movie. It was her hair, darker than he remembered and intricately wrapped in a half-braided up-do.
Sarah was a stranger to him. With a pang of sadness, he realized that perhaps she always had been.
Pushing that thought from his mind, he focused his attention back on the road. He still had no idea where he was going. That is, until he saw the sign. The town was about 100 miles away, but he didn’t have anywhere to be, so he sped up, flying down the highway with new purpose.
It took him a while to find the house. Overgrown trees masked the street sign, and once he located it, the road was far longer than he remembered. Just when he was beginning to think he had the wrong street, he saw the little market on the right-hand side of the road, and he sat up straighter in his seat.
He had no idea what to expect when he reached the end of the road. Would the house be empty and abandoned, just as still and quiet as they left it, only with eight more years of dust gathered atop the furniture? Or would a new family have taken their place? Would they have made an attempt to scrub the bloodstains out of the original hardwood floors, or simply sprung for new ones? Would they know the story – his story?
He was still debating on which option to hope for – which would be less painful – when he came upon the start of the narrow driveway that led to the farm house. A dingy “FOR SALE” sign was perched on the front lawn, swinging in the light breeze. There were no cars in front of the house, so he pulled forward, traveling slowly over the gravel and coming to a stop beside the front porch steps.
The front door was secured with a realtor’s lock-box, and he wasn’t about to break any laws and risk ending up in prison for the sake of nostalgia. He tried to peek inside the windows, but they were all covered, probably to keep people from doing exactly what he was doing, without making an appointment with the realtor first.
With a sigh, he plopped down on the top step and looked out at the slightly overgrown yard. Clearly the house didn’t have enough interest to bother keeping up with lawn maintenance. He briefly wondered who was selling it. Technically, as far as he knew, the house still belonged to Rodney, passed down to him from his grandmother’s inheritance. But given that Rodney was in prison for murder, the property was probably turned over to the bank at some point.
He shook his head at himself. With the house locked up, he came all this way for nothing. Although, even if the house had been open, empty, free for him to roam about, what then? When he saw that sign for Homeworth, he had a fierce determination to make it to the house, but for what?
He looked down at his feet and the steps beneath them, running his hand along the rough, peeling paint that covered the wood. There were so many memories here. He realized those were the best months of his life, at least since the death of his mother, and he pushed back the tears that burned behind his eyelids at the thought.
Maybe that’s what he was chasing: better days, the memories he felt were slipping away. Seeing Sarah brought them all back, and when she left so quickly again, she took them all with her. After so many years of waiting for her, wondering when – and later, if – she would come back into his life, their reunion was over so quickly, like waiting for the epic reveal at the end of a murder mystery, only to have the credits start rolling seconds before the detective cracks the case. Sarah’s portion of his story was unfinished, and it left an ache in his chest – one that he had hoped the farm would relieve.
But there was no relief here, no completion. Only more unfinished stories. With that realization, he cleared the emotion stuck in his throat, pulled himself up from the steps, and forced his feet toward the car.
It was too familiar, driving away from the farm and knowing it would be the last time he would ever see it. But unlike that night eight years ago, this time, he didn’t look back.
Jacob’s head pounded as he shuffled into his dorm building’s small, shared kitchen. It wasn’t until halfway through his long drive back to campus that he realized he still hadn’t eaten anything besides a candy bar since breakfast. Reaching his food locker, his hand stopped short over the handle as he noticed the lock was missing and the door was already ajar. Thinking back to the last time he used his locker, when he grabbed a quick breakfast that morning, he couldn’t remember returning his lock to the handle. With anxious anticipation, he swung the door open wide to reveal an empty square of metal.
Closing his eyes and letting his forehead fall hard on the wall beside the lockers, he could no longer contain his frustration. He took a concentrated breath, attempting to remain calm, but the theft was the final straw in a heaping pile of disappointments that day. His breath came quicker and more heavily and he could feel himself beginning to lose control, water rapidly rising in his eyes and threatening to break through
the barrier he was holding to so tightly.
“Fuck!” he exclaimed, slamming his locker door shut with heavy force. Returning his head to the wall with an aggravated groan, he continued his purposeful breathing, allowing anger to override his sadness.
“Everything alright?” a woman interjected from the stove top on the other side of the room. Her unknown presence made Jacob jump, and he huffed out another profanity as he calmed his startled heart.
“Sorry,” he muttered, surprised by the exhaustion in his voice. “I didn’t see you.” Under normal circumstances, he would be embarrassed to have spoken such crass words in the presence of a lady, but at the moment he didn’t have the energy to care.
“It’s okay,” she replied, eying him skeptically for a moment before turning back to the pot she was stirring on the stove.
Jacob sighed heavily, leaning his back against the wall and closing his eyes as he tried to think of any fast food restaurants that would be open at the late hour.
“Hey, do you want some food?” the girl interjected again, blowing the bangs of her short, pixie hair from her eyes as she grabbed two paper plates from a nearby cabinet. “Because I’m making spaghetti, and I’m notorious for over-estimating my noodle portions,” she joked with a smirk.
Glancing at the clock above the sink to confirm the time, Jacob returned her gaze with a look that questioned her sanity. “You’re making spaghetti at two in the morning?”
“Yeah,” she answered simply, turning her attention back to the food, serving the meal onto two plates and grabbing a couple forks from a drawer. “You want some?” she asked, turning to set their plates on the small, round table beside the oven.
“Uh...,” Jacob began, still confused by the behavior that she seemed to deem perfectly normal. But his stomach growled at the smell of the rich sauce, and he realized he wouldn’t have many other options at this hour. “Sure,” he agreed, joining her at the table. “Thanks.”
As he sat down and cautiously accepted the meal, the girl gave him a friendly smile before turning her attention to her own food. Several minutes passed as they ate in silence, Jacob eying her every few moments. He assessed the informal way in which she sat cross-legged on her chair, dressed in a black tank top and Superhero pajama pants with furry slippers by her feet. Despite the late hour, she was brightly alert, humming softly to herself as she ate her meal.
“So, do you live in Morgan?” she asked after a few minutes.
“Um,” Jacob started, his mind too tired and preoccupied to focus on her question. “Uh, yeah. 105.”
“Nice. I’m above you,” she stated, gesturing to the ceiling. “I haven’t seen you around before. Is this your first year?”
With an exasperated sigh, Jacob began, “Look, um...,” he trailed off, meeting her jade eyes with an expectant gaze.
“Oh, Jenna,” she answered when she realized he was waiting for her name.
“Jenna,” he repeated. “I appreciate this,” he explained, gesturing to the food, “but I’m not really in a... chatty kind of mood.”
She gave him a knowing smile and answered, “Understood.”
Jacob expected more of a fight. He anticipated feeling her eyes on him, appraising his melancholy state, questioning him with her gaze, but he found that the roles were reversed. She turned back to her food without another question, never looking up as he peeked at her. She politely ignored his glances, respecting his request for a silent meal. Once he realized she wasn’t planning to pry for an explanation for his somber mood, he relaxed back in his chair, finishing his food in silence and trying, unsuccessfully, to keep Sarah off of his mind.
Upon finishing his meal, Jacob rose from the table to toss the plate and fork in the trash can. He sighed deeply as he thought about returning to his dark, empty room with nothing to distract him from his thoughts. As unappealing as that task was, he knew it was inevitable.
“Well,” he started, “thanks again.”
“Yeah, no problem,” Jenna replied, watching him as he wandered slowly toward the kitchen door, lingering just inside to take another deep, calming breath.
“You know,” she called after a moment. He turned around slowly, returning her gaze. “I was gonna watch a movie in the lobby after this, if you wanna join me,” she said, taking in the last bite of her food.
He glanced between the woman and the clock on the stove, befuddled by her abnormal behavior for the late hour. He thought about her offer for a moment. “No,” he ultimately decided. “Sorry, I should probably get some sleep.” It was an excuse, of course, as he knew sleep likely wouldn’t come that night, but although the idea of being alone didn’t sound appealing, he didn’t know how much longer his emotions could hold up, and he didn’t want to have to explain any sudden tears to a stranger.
“That’s okay,” she smiled, tossing her plate in the trash and cleaning up her mess from the stove. “Just thought I’d offer.”
“Thanks,” he muttered, taking note of her genuine and casual sincerity. With another deep breath, he turned back to the hallway and made his way to his room.
Retreating to the bathroom, he brushed his teeth and washed his face to clear his mind, keeping his eyes safely away from the mirror. He had a feeling he looked as terrible as he felt, and he didn’t care to see if that assumption was correct. After he swapped his job-searching clothes for sweats and a t-shirt, he pulled his pill box out of the medicine cabinet and set it on the counter, staring blankly at the “Sunday” slot. He knew that his pills would make him tired, but he couldn’t ensure that they would keep his thoughts and dreams away from Sarah. As soon as he took those pills, there wouldn’t be any turning back; he would be alone in his thoughts for the rest of the evening, and he wasn’t sure if that was what he wanted. More accurately, he was sure that being alone that night wasn’t what he wanted, but the person he wanted to be with was probably sleeping soundly in bed beside Detective Mike Bentley at the moment.
With a groan, he decided he had no other options, so he might as well give into the fatigue. As he poured the pills into his palm, however, he remembered that he did have another option. It was probably a stupid one, as he had no idea how long he could hold up without a total breakdown, but he considered it anyway.
After a minute of contemplation, he shoved the pills back into their slot and walked out of his room, willing his feet to make their way to the lobby before his mind could catch up to what he was doing and stop them. Rounding the corner of the hallway, he saw the girl from the kitchen lying on the spacious couch with her computer on her lap and earbuds in her ears.
Deeply engrossed in the film, she didn’t notice Jacob’s hesitant approach until he was a few feet away from the couch, burying his hands in the pockets of his sweatpants. When she finally saw him, she hit the space bar on her keyboard and pulled the earbuds out of her ears, looking up at him with questioning eyes.
“Um...,” he muttered, shifting on his feet and trying to think of a way to phrase his change of heart. “I was just….”
She swung her legs to the floor, scooting over to make room for him. As he cautiously took a seat beside her on the couch, she pulled the earbuds out of the side of the computer, and shoved them in a bag on the floor by her feet.
Backing the movie up to the beginning, she settled back into the couch, easily closing the large space he had left between them and propping her feet up on the ottoman more closely beside his than he was comfortable with.
Sitting beside this girl and eying her dutifully, he wondered what her story was. Why she was awake at 3am, seeking the company of a stranger. But at the moment, none of it mattered. All that mattered was keeping his mind safely away from reality, and reveling in the distraction of the screen in front of him.
AN OBNOXIOUS BEEPING PULLED Jacob from his deep slumber, and he rolled over with a groan to hit the snooze button on his alarm. The very act of moving from his side to his back made him acutely aware of the massive pounding in his head, and it was then that he deci
ded he wouldn’t be making it to his first class of the day. He rested his arm across his forehead, the light pressure taking away a miniscule amount of the pain, and cursed himself for eating so little the previous day. With that reminder, his stomach began to growl, and the mix of his empty gut and the ache in his head made him nauseated.
With another groan, he turned off his alarm altogether and rolled onto his stomach.
After an hour of trying to ignore the steady pulsing of his headache and wishing for sleep to take him again, his rumbling stomach could no longer be ignored. With a resigned sigh, he braced himself for the head rush as he rose from his bed and walked out the door in his t-shirt and sweat pants.
The cafeteria was sparsely populated, given that most of the other students probably weren’t skipping their first class of the day like he was. He ate a leisurely meal, checking the clock on the wall every once in a while, so he wouldn’t be late for his next class. The food was the same as it always was, but it had no flavor to him. It did, however, do its job of quieting the ache in his gut.
His thoughts drifted inevitably back to the previous day, and he shoved them aside. He knew what Doctor Summers would say about that, but there was no point in confronting his feelings about Sarah when she was gone, probably headed back to New York soon, and engaged to another man. That chapter of his life was closed, and he had to move on.
He looked at the clock again as he played with the leftover bits of sausage and syrup on his plate. He almost wished he had dragged himself out of bed that morning and made it to Biology, if only to have something to focus his thoughts on besides that big, shiny diamond ring. But once it was half an hour away from the start of his second class, he deposited his dishes in the dish bins and headed that way, deciding he had waited long enough to not be unreasonably early.