She grabbed my hand. For a little thing, she sure was bossy. She called it being a Southern girl. “Come on, we want to get a good room. Bye, Coach.” She waved.
I followed her, but kept looking back at Coach. “Capri, I was talking to him.”
“It was for your own good. You would have only tortured yourself. No contact, remember?”
“You know that’s going to be impossible.”
“Probably, but we have to do our best to minimize the time around him and his friends.”
“He’s everybody’s friend.”
“Not mine or yours anymore.”
I stopped and sighed. “I hate that.” I felt so empty. Was he really going to propose?
Capri pressed her lips together. “Me too, actually, but the man-slut has to go. It’s his loss.”
“You read the comments on that Facebook post. I don’t think he’ll be lonely for too long. Maybe this time he’ll find some fine Southern Belle with a rich daddy. I bet he wouldn’t call her a distraction.”
“No one is better than you, and I’m not just saying that because you cleaned up my vomit once.”
I laughed at her. “I think it’s because I hooked you up with my hot Italian friend Anthony Doriguzzi.”
Her face turned a shade of red. “I’m married now, thank you very much.”
“I know, but I also know that you had a little fun with my friend. What did you say? His kiss was so good you got lost on the way back to our apartment.”
She bit her lip. “Yeah, he was amazing, but he wasn’t the kind of guy you take home to your momma.”
“No, he wasn’t.” But you know who was? The person I took home to meet my parents over spring break. But he wasn’t the same person now, because that man would never have hurt me like this. That man used to tell me all the time that I was the best thing that ever happened to him. Eighty-seven days.
I’m not sure there were any good rooms to be had. Each cabin had three bedrooms and one bathroom. They were putting two to a room. Six women and one bathroom didn’t seem like a well thought out plan. And though the cabins did have air conditioning, the air smelled like it had been circulating for the last fifty years. To top it off, the rooms had bunkbeds.
“Feels like we’re back in school.” Capri began to unpack.
“Except, sadly, our dorm room was nicer than this.”
“It’s only one night.”
I looked around the dark, dank room. “Maybe I’ll sleep in my car.”
She rolled her eyes at me.
“Hey, I’m going to meet Mr. Crandall. He said he found this fantastic one act and he wants to get my opinion.”
“Okay. I’ll meet you at the lodge. Remember, stay away from the new VP.”
“Don’t worry, he’s the last person I want to see.”
Too bad what I wanted didn’t always seem to happen. What were the odds that my partner in crime, mentor, and father figure, Mr. Crandall would be talking to the reason I needed a ninety-day program? They were outside the lodge and I was just turning around to avoid them when I heard a voice call out to me.
“Presley, dear. I was looking for you.” Victor Crandall reminded me of Mark Twain with his wild white hair, Southern accent, and mischievous eyes.
I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. The article was right, I physically craved Jackson. And I loved him with an all that I was, am, and ever would be kind of love. It wasn’t a fairytale kind of love; it was the in sickness and health kind. The kind that had you living in the same house for sixty years until they had to cart you off to a nursing home kind of love. We worked so well together, too. Like last Valentine’s Day when we had decided every girl at the school should get a rose. We came up with a plan and talked to a local florist along with some other businesses in the area and we made it happen. All seven hundred and fifty girls were presented with a pink rose. I’ll never forget the looks on some of their faces when they were handed a rose. It was priceless. And he was good like that.
I did my best to not look at Jackson while trying to fake happy. “Mr. Crandall, how are you?” I walked toward the men, shaking.
“Fine, fine, fine. I was telling our new vice principal here about my trip to New York and about our plans for the year.”
I nodded, only focusing on Mr. Crandall.
“I’m hoping maybe we’ll get some more budget money now that we have an in. Right, Presley?”
I forgot how Mr. Crandall hated social media. He felt like it violated the laws of the universe somehow, and maybe he was right, but he really needed to catch up on his gossip. I made the mistake of looking to my right. Jackson caught my eye for a brief second. Gosh he looked good in his jeans and button up shirt. He looked so official. Focus. Eighty-seven more days.
I cleared my throat. “We aren’t—”
“Administrators and teachers should maintain only professional relationships,” Jackson answered for me.
Mr. Crandall’s concerned eyes met mine. “Is that so, Presley dear?”
I did my best to keep any moisture from appearing in my eyes when I nodded.
“What a shame. I have found that personal relationships, no matter who we are, should be maintained above all else. I think there will be a mountain of regret on the horizon.”
I peeked at Jackson. Surprise was written in his wide eyes.
No one was more surprised by this situation than me.
Day Four
Friday, July 30
Dear Mr. Bingley,
I can’t sleep. It may have something to do with that fact that Capri snores, or most likely it’s because I saw Jackson several times yesterday. I knew I would, but I wasn’t prepared to feel so much hate and love at the same time. I hate him so much for being able to act like it never happened. He stood up, droning on about all the new policies and procedures that they were enacting this year. Only he could make it sound interesting. Everyone but Capri and I gave him their full attention. I kept my head down, doodling on my agenda. Doodling or drawing pictures of Jackson burning in hell, it’s all the same thing.
The day only got worse. They had us do all these team-building exercises like putting together puzzles and getting-to-know-you games. Boring didn’t begin to cover it. I’m so glad I was not born in your time period, when women were expected to sit and recite poetry, sew, sing, and draw all day. That is assuming I was born to be a lady. Knowing my luck, I would have been the servant girl emptying out the pots the ladies urinated in.
I don’t know if I can take another day of all the staring and talking behind my back. So we broke up. Can we all move on? Me included? Jackson obviously has. How can that be? Tell me, Mr. Bingley, is it that easy for men? Do you just decide and it happens? If so, I envy you. Or do I pity you? How can you ever know what real love is, if, on demand, you can turn it off?
Most confused,
Presley
I decided a walk around the lake was in order. It was still early enough that the sun was barely tickling the horizon. It would be the only time of day when the temperatures were bearable. I threw on some running shorts and a t-shirt before heading out. It felt like a warm shower, not a steamy one . . . yet. There was a nice path that went around the lake, so I headed there. I enjoyed the peace, and being alone. I loved Capri, and if this was only her and I, it would have been much better. Don’t get me wrong, I liked my fellow teachers, some of them like family, but I had needed to be further along on my ninety days to recovery before all of this. Mindy Everly, one of the freshman math teachers, had the gall to ask me if it was okay if she gave Jackson her number. I didn’t even bother to tell her he didn’t date teachers anymore. I gave her a phony smile and walked away. If he somehow ended up with her, I thought I might feel better about the situation. She talked like she needed her sinuses irrigated and, it’s tacky of me to say, but he better like big butts and that’s no lie.
I did my best not to focus on Jackson as I watched the sun rise above the tree line. I was thinking of all the fun games
I had learned at a workshop I attended last month. I couldn’t wait to share them with my students. Games like Red Rover, but you use emotions. Or a twist on Simon Says. I also had some field trips in mind that I wanted to do. Too bad that involved Jackson’s approval. This was going to be a long school year. Or at least a long eighty-six days. One day closer to my goal. It felt like forever.
It didn’t help any when Jackson came running toward me. Why couldn’t he have skipped his morning run? In a panic, I pretended not to see him. I jogged off the path, and headed toward the lake. It didn’t matter that it smelled like fish, or that it was tinted green. Anything was better than facing him. I stared out into the murky water trying to get a hold of my emotions. And doing my best not to gag because of the smell. I missed my Colorado mountains and clear crystal blue water. I listened for him to run by, but instead I heard him making his way toward me on the uneven rocky ground. Please fall and break your leg.
Didn’t he get the hint that I didn’t want to see him? “Presley.”
I guess not. I didn’t answer. He was ruining my plan.
He tapped me on the shoulder. “Hey.”
I made a slight turn and acknowledged him. Did I mention he was running shirtless? The chemical craving was unleashed inside my body. He had one of those smooth, rippled chests. I sidestepped to give myself some more space. It didn’t help. I wanted to jump into his arms and kiss him like I meant it, sweaty and all.
“Am I interrupting you?”
“As a matter of fact, you are.” I stared out across the icky lake.
“Sorry. I just wanted to see how you thought the retreat was going?”
Should I tell him the truth? He was technically my boss now. A few days ago we would have been laughing together at the cheesiness of it all. “I’ve been to better.” So, truth it was.
“Oh. I was wondering, because you looked disinterested when I spoke yesterday.”
Why was he looking at me yesterday? “It’s your first time. I’m sure you’ll get better.”
“Was I that terrible?” He sounded disappointed and surprised. I’m sure he was. I had never spoken to him like that.
“Awful, but like I said, newbie. I wouldn’t worry about it. Nobody really pays attention at these things anyway.” So maybe I lied. People were eating him up yesterday.
“I guess I’ll work on it.” He kicked a rock.
“Okay. Well, enjoy your run.” Please leave and put that shirt in your hand on, for crying out loud.
“Why won’t you look at me?”
Was that a real question? Out came more lies. “I don’t think it’s appropriate for teachers like myself to see administrators half dressed. We need to keep it professional, right?”
He stepped closer. “Listen, Presley. I’m sorry things have to be this way.”
I sidestepped more away from him, but my courage was bolstered and I turned his way. “Don’t be. After you left my apartment, I realized this was a good thing. I mean, our little fling, it wasn’t going anywhere.”
He narrowed his eyes. “Fling?”
“Yep, fling, temporary. And it got me to thinking. We are so different; it would have never worked out.”
His eyes widened.
“You like country music and I like alternative. You run and I walk. And how can someone who loves Alabama be with an Auburn fan?”
“You like Auburn now?”
“Go tigers. I mean, War Eagle. I decided I look better in blue and orange and I think this is Auburn’s comeback year.”
“If you say so.”
“Oh, I do. So really, it’s all for the best.” I was on a roll now, so why stop? “Especially now that you are, you know, making your way up in the world. I would hate for you to have any distractions or mess around. It’s not like you got promoted while we were dating or anything. And if that could happen while we were together, who knows how far you could have gone without such a nuisance as me.” Don’t cry, Presley.
His mouth downturned and he scrubbed his hand over his face. His handsome, handsome face. “Presley, I shouldn’t have—”
“You’re right, you shouldn’t have. But like I said, it’s all for the best. Now I can move on with my life, maybe go back home where I belong.”
He tilted his head. “Are you moving back to Colorado?”
“I’m going to fulfill my contract for the year.”
“You probably shouldn’t have said anything to me in my position.”
“Probably not, but do what you want with that information, Mr. Montgomery. You’re good at doing what you want.”
“Presley—”
“You should call me Ms. Benson. And do your best to stay away from me. It’s the very least you can do.”
“You know that’s going to be difficult.”
“I’m sure someone as smart as you will figure out how to make that work.” I stared hard into his surprised brown eyes. “Enjoy your run.”
I left him standing there speechless.
Day Five
Saturday, July 31
Dear Mr. Bingley,
We talked. I lied, lots and lots of lies. But I was courageous and also told him the truth. Then I cried all the way home after another ridiculous day of team building activities. Capri had to drive us home, I was such a mess. I loved him. I still love him and he hurt me, with no regard to my feelings. At least you had the decency to stay away from Jane for weeks. And you certainly didn’t show off your bare chest to her. The chest she used to lie on and sleep. The place where she felt loved and where all was right in the world. I feel ill-used, to use a term from your day. But, like Jane and Elizabeth, I must go on. I will not wallow in misery, at least not in public. I will not let Jackson Montgomery conquer me.
Boldly yours,
Presley
I began to feel anxiety and feelings of hopelessness creep in, so I decided I better do as the plan stated and think of some of the things I liked to do as a single woman. After all, it was the weekend, and Monday I would be back at the school setting up my room and in close proximity to Mr. Montgomery. I decided I should call him that. It would help distance myself from him.
It took me a long time to figure out what to do. One of the things I loved about Mr. Montgomery was that he tried his best to be interested in what I liked and I did the same for him. If I said let’s take a ballroom dancing class, he would sign us up without me saying another word. And if he said, I bought tickets to the rodeo, I would throw on my Daisy Dukes and some boots and go with him. I didn’t have to give up any part of who I was to be with him, but now I felt like I was losing a part of me.
A bike ride to the farmer’s market it was. I hadn’t ridden my bike since the spring, when Mr. Montgomery and I made our way to Willow Bed Park. We lay under a shade tree all day while he read Tom Clancy’s Clear and Present Danger to me. That Jack Ryan was some character. He was Jackson’s literary hero. There was nothing more romantic than the man you love reading to you.
Had I been so blinded by love that I couldn’t see that his love didn’t run as deep as mine? I rested my head on the arm of my couch. I had to get up. I had to move. I would overcome this.
So, maybe a bike ride hadn’t been the best choice. It was the end of July and I lived in Ala-freaking-bama. That’s actually a word down here. The only consolation was the amazing strawberries and watermelon I scored. I was making strawberry watermelon lemonade. I placed my treasures in the basket that someone I won’t mention bought me, pedaled home, and did my best not to get heat exhaustion. Why did I ever think it was a good idea to move down here?
Day Six
Sunday, August 1
I’d almost made it a whole week. I only had twelve more weeks to go. It was doable, right? Except his nana, Miss Liliana, finally made me cave. I was going over to her home to have lunch. She swore Mr. Montgomery wouldn’t be present. But she sounded determined to right this crime against humanity, as she referred to it. She was something. She was the feistiest, best person I knew, out
side of Capri. They were cut from the same Southern cloth.
I made up a jug of my strawberry-watermelon lemonade to take over, along with some lemon bars. Miss Liliana called that good manners. I loved her. I wished she wasn’t related to her grandson.
I drove to downtown Riverton. It was the quaintest downtown area I had ever seen. All the homes were built in the early nineteen hundreds and looked straight out of a Hallmark channel movie. Miss Liliana’s was the crown jewel. It stood across from the town square fountain, surrounded by a wrought iron fence. She paid a gardener a pretty penny to maintain the lovely grounds of the vast estate. It wasn’t a problem for her. She married into old Southern money. And like she told me, you can’t go wrong marrying a Southern lawyer. Mr. Daniel Montgomery sounded like a good man. He died a few years ago from complications after surgery to remove his gall bladder. It left Jackson, I mean Mr. Montgomery, devastated. Almost as devastated as when his mother passed away when he was a sophomore in high school from an undetected heart condition.
From the sound of it, Mr. Jackson Montgomery’s mother, Georgia, was a saint and the only person who could tame her beast of a husband. But after she died, he became hardened and bitter. He wanted what he wanted and that’s how it was going to be. I had often felt very sorry for my ex-boyfriend. My parents were so kind and they supported my siblings and me in all our dreams, even the unrealistic ones. When I was ten and I wanted to invent a time travel machine, my dad bought me a book on quantum physics. I didn’t understand one word of it, but that was love. Maybe I even felt sorry for Mr. Montgomery now. He felt like he would never satisfy his father. That’s a terrible feeling no child should ever have to endure.
Well, maybe now his dad would be happy with him. He would reach the pinnacle of education administration, all without his middleclass ex-girlfriend.
I pulled through Miss Liliana’s gate and looked around to make sure she didn’t have any unwelcomed guests. I knew she promised he wouldn’t be here when I arrived, but she was a tricky little thing, and let’s not forget determined.
How to Get Over Your Ex in Ninety Days Page 3