by C. Lymari
“This not Emma’s,” Rosie complained.
“We need to get a few things first, and then we’ll go to Emma’s.”
Sue me—I was trying to delay going to Emma Miller’s place. I wasn’t the one who was a bitch to her in high school, Abigail was, but still. I’d never done anything to stop it. Jana did, but not me.
“You promise?”
“Yes, I promise.”
And I did. It was time to start facing people. Blake wasn’t at the store either, but Mr. Carson was. As soon as he saw me, he started smiling.
“Juliet, lovely to see you here. Who’s this little princess?”
“Good evening, Mr. Carson. This little princess is my neighbor, Rosie.”
Mr. Carson reached under the counter where I knew they had lollipops stashed and gave one to Rosie.
“You looking for Clark?” Mr. Carson said nonchalantly.
Oh, God, please tell me his parents didn’t still think I was secretly dating Clark. That was just too weird.
“Ah, no. I remember seeing some car seats, but I don’t recall what aisle, and Rosie needs a new jacket.” I pointed to the rack by the window.
“I’ll bring the car seat while you pick the jacket.”
“I want the black one like Jessa.” Rosie pointed at the black jacket.
“How about the pink one for a princess?”
Not that I was being mean or a sexist not letting her wear the black boy’s jacket, but she was a little girl, and she already had so much darkness in her life. I wanted to give her something pretty. And the bubble gum pink jacket was lovely.
“Okay. Princess.”
Mr. Carson rang us up, and despite my protests, he still gave me a discount. Secretly, I was grateful for it.
“Now, Jessa?” Rosie asked with the lollipop stick still in her mouth.
“Yes, now we can go see Jess,” I muttered.
Jess worked at Emma’s Coffee and I was slightly terrified to go.
The shop was the last one in this section of the plaza. The front was painted yellow, and it was bright against the white snow. Even the new addition was already painted. I could tell where they had added to it. It wasn’t much, but enough to look different from the building I remembered as a child.
“Are we going in?” Rosie whined from where she was strapped to her new car seat.
God bless Mr. Carson, because I had no idea how to install one.
“Okay, let’s go in.” I gave myself a pep talk.
Holding Rosie’s hand, mostly for my sake—but, you know, safety first—we made our way into the café. I was Juliet Dunnett, not some helpless woman. I was a new me, not the girl these people remembered. For fuck’s sake, I was holding the hand of a little girl. I’d never had a babysitting job growing up. Hell, other than the job I had now, I’d never had any job before.
Unconsciously, that was the first step I’d taken in leaving Chad. I remembered how scared I was when I’d started to offer my services online. I didn’t need a job. But I did. It felt dirty, somehow, asking to work for people. It felt weird to be able to stand alone. It was terrifying. Guess that was just the way my parents conditioned me. Get a career, something to say I had a degree, but I couldn’t forget my number one job: trophy wife.
Well, not anymore.
As soon as I opened the door, the warm, inviting smell of coffee beans assaulted me in the best possible way.
The left wall was a giant chalkboard, and it was divided in two, with a small passage leading to what I imagined was going to be the dining room. Small tables stacked with books were in the middle, and along the blackboard on the opposite wall, it was lined with a few booths. The place wasn’t bustling, which wasn’t a bad thing. I knew Freya worked here, and out of everyone in this whole town, she was the one I felt almost ashamed to see again. Seeing her the day of what was supposed to be my brother’s rehearsal dinner was shock enough, thank you very much.
“Jessa!” Rosie screamed, causing people to turn our way.
Feeling self-conscious, I waved at Jess and pointed to the booth I was going to be sitting in while Rosie greeted her sister.
“Juliet, darling, I didn’t know you were in town,” I heard a familiar voice say as soon as I sat down.
I turned to find Mrs. Lee smiling warmly at me. “Hello, Mrs. Lee, how are you?”
“Oh, you know. Same old, same old around here. How’s that charming husband of yours? Will you two be needing a room for the night?”
“Not today, thank you. It’s only me.”
“Ah, you’re staying with your parents?”
“Yeah,” I lied.
Suddenly, telling Mrs. Lee about my failed marriage made me feel ashamed. Like I still had to hide. It was one thing to tell Jake I was alone. He wouldn’t ask questions. But Mrs. Lee would, and as soon as her eyes landed on my arm, she did.
“Oh, honey, what happened to your arm? Was it with the first snowfall? I swear nobody expected such snow this year.”
“It’s getting better. Hopefully I’ll have it off soon,” I said, instead.
“I have to go. It was lovely to see you. Hopefully, you and Chad can stay again. You two are quite the pair.”
I barely managed to give Mrs. Lee a smile, feeling genuinely disgusted with myself. You two are quite the pair. The words echoed in my ear, along with Chad’s. “No one will believe you. I have power, and I have money. I have all the connections at my fingertips.”
It was one thing to come from old money, but another to come from old money and a long line of politicians—the rules were two very different things. I looked at the board because I wasn’t sure what to do with myself. Rosie left me in the booth while she ran to say hello to her sister. I watched as Emma gave her a cookie. I quickly averted my eyes before we could make eye contact. All the way on the top of the black wall read the quote of the day: “Beautiful irony is when the very thing that tried to destroy you instead made you stronger.”
Those words. They made me feel light-headed and dizzy, and I felt a tear slide down my cheek. I was strong, maybe not where I should be, but I was getting there. I had no one to tell me how strong I was or that I’d done the right thing, but reading those words felt like a sign from the universe telling me I had.
20
Juliet
Sophomore Year
Art class was never the same after I broke things off with Jake. I knew we were never anything official, but it still felt like a breakup. He was my friend, he made me laugh, and now he wouldn’t even look at me. I had the advantage of knowing we could never be together, but I wouldn’t tell Jake the real reason. I glanced up from my desk and discreetly looked at him. Since our fallout, he’d stopped sitting with me. Our artwork was nowhere near each other. it shouldn’t hurt as much as it did, but that’s the thing about feelings—they have no rationality. We feel some things deeply, and others don’t even scratch the surface.
“I like your project. The snow overtakes almost all of your canvas.”
My head swung to the Miller girl, who’d changed seats with Jake when he couldn’t stand my presence.
“Thanks.” My answer was clipped, leaving no room for conversation.
Pre-Jake, I would have told her that I liked the yellow store she’d painted on her canvas, but I knew better now than to have friends who wouldn’t do anything for me. It was the way of the world. My world. When no one was looking at me, I wrote the word lonely and covered it under layers of cotton snow.
“May I help you, Mr. Dunnett?” my art teacher said, and my head swung to the door, where my brother Prescott was standing with a grim look on his face.
I got up without looking at anyone when he called my name. With shaky hands, I put everything away. I got my backpack over my shoulder, but it fell, the contents scattering all over the floor.
“Here.”
I closed my eyes at the sound of Jake’s voice. I longed for him to talk to me again, but not like this—not when I knew my brother was the bearer of bad news
.
“Thanks,” I whispered loud enough for him to hear.
When I made it out of the door, Prescott took my belongings.
“I’m sorry, Julie.” He wrapped an arm around me and kissed my temple.
I braced myself for the impact because I knew whatever had him looking so grim was coming.
“Grandma passed away this morning.”
No matter how hard I closed my eyes, tears still started to fall. I loved my nana; she was the only one who cared about my happiness, and now she was gone. Even though I only called her and had the occasional Skype conversation, she still knew something was wrong with me. Even my own mother had no idea.
My family took the first flight to Florida for Nana’s funeral. I’d never seen my mother lose it like she did when the casket was being lowered to the ground. Oddly enough, that was when I stopped crying. Around my neck, I wore the only thing my nana left me—a locket with a picture of us.
I cast a quick look at my father. I didn’t know if he cared enough about my nana to feel sad or if he was just annoyed for the unplanned trip, but his jaw had been clenched since we arrived.
“I love you, Julie.” Prescott squeezed my hand before it was my turn to set a white flower on the casket.
When I went back to my seat, Max pulled me into a hug, where he just held me until the service was over. He wasn’t around anymore, but I didn’t tell him what I’d seen in the hall, and I wouldn’t open my mouth about it.
To be honest, I was jealous. He had everything, while the two things that mattered the most to me had been taken away.
The service went fast or maybe it just felt that way since I wasn’t ready to let go. The ride to our hotel was quiet. No one really knew what to say. Once we were there, we went to our suite. I was minding my own business when I heard my parents arguing.
“She has a right to know, Paul.” My mother’s voice carried through the hall of our hotel.
Curiosity go the better of me. I opened my door, waiting to see if I could hear more, but the talking immediately subsided. My parents were in the middle of the living room, both just looking at me.
“Honey, you ready to go back home?” My mother made her way up to me then ran her hands through my hair.
When was the last time she was this affectionate? I guessed losing Nana gave her some perspective.
“I’m fine. Can we go back home already? There’s nothing here. I don’t see why we had to spend an extra day.”
“Juliet,” my mother started to scold me.
“She’s right, Gwen.” My father came out with their luggage. “Juliet knows that one must always keep a clear head.”
Did my father agree with me?
Compliments from him were rare. My father was old-school that way. He was in charge of making sure Prescott and Max were raised the right way, while my mother made sure I had all the “qualifications.” I didn’t even know for what, but right now, I was content living in ignorance.
When I went back to school, everything was the same, and nothing had changed. But I had. If everyone thought I was a spoiled bitch, then it was time for them to see how spoiled and bitchy I could really be.
Dropping art class had crossed my mind more than once, but doing so would have been giving in to my father’s wishes more than I already had.
When I got to my seat, there was a big chocolate chip cookie in a yellow wrapper.
“I’m sorry about your grandma,” Emma, my partner, whispered.
“I don’t need your pity,” I snapped.
I saw her face fall, but I didn’t have it in me to care.
Since I was the last one to walk in, I got up to get my supplies from the closet. Next to my project was a square covered in black wrapping paper. My heart started palpitating, feeling the first rush of emotion since Nana’s funeral.
I didn’t open it there. I brought my supplies out, leaving the square next to my seat, and when class was over, I drove home with the gift in my passenger seat. Once I made it to my room, I tore the paper, careful not to ruin what was within.
The kiosk in the fall.
I had been a bitch to him, and he’d still given me the last piece to my collection. The kiosk was front and center, leaves all around. Gold, yellow, orange, and green. The sun rays shone down, highlighting the top of the kiosk like a halo.
Grief is the last act of love we have to give to those we love. Where there is deep grief, there was great love.
He’d written the quote on the front of the card. I turned it around and read what he wrote on the back. Sorry about your grandmother.
My dad was wrong. People like Jake Carson weren’t beneath us; people like us didn’t deserve them.
21
Jake
I wasn’t supposed to work today, but I came in to check on my pops anyways. I wasn’t one to worry, but when it came to my father I couldn’t help it. Back when I was in college, my old man had a small stroke that scared the shit out of all of us. It was the only time Clark had ever pitched in, working more hours than necessary at the store. Now I knew he was fine—he was healthier, lost some weight—but I couldn’t help but get scared leaving him alone.
“Hey, Pops. Busy night?” I asked as I grabbed a drink from the fridge.
“Somewhat. Now that it isn’t snowing as much, people are coming in to stock up on salt.” My dad watched me drink before he spoke again. “Juliet stopped by.”
Suddenly, an uneasy feeling came over me. It was a mix of excitement and wariness.
“Yeah?” I asked.
Did she ask about me?
Of course, I didn’t say that shit aloud. If my dad weren’t still pissed at Freya for being reckless and almost hitting Clark, they would both share matchmaking strategies. In Freya’s defense, I heard the car wasn’t even going fast; my parents were just overprotective. Especially my mother. Boy, did I have a hard time when I played football—that woman wanted me to get an MRI after every game.
“She came with a little girl, bought her a jacket and a car seat. She’s a good kid. I should let Clark know she’s over at Emma’s. Maybe he’ll want to go say hello.” My father wasn’t even looking at me as he said it.
I was glad the drink I had in my hand was now finished, because I squeezed the bottle until it crumpled.
“I’m sure Clark’s busy. I’m going to get some food. You want anything?”
“I wouldn’t say no to a burger.” There was an arrogant smile on my father’s face, and I realized he’d played me.
I didn’t even say goodbye. I made my way to Emma’s, practically running. I was at the window when I spotted her.
I rocked back on my haunches. Even just her side profile took the breath out of me. She was fucking beautiful; it didn’t matter what angle you looked at her from. Front, back, sideways, upside-down. I liked looking at this woman every which way. The picture I’d taken of her was on my heavy rotation, and I found myself looking at it more than I would have liked, each time finding something different, something more amazing.
Damn. If my brothers heard me, they would have called me pussy whipped.
My gut instantly tightened when I saw Mrs. Lee talking to Juliet. The way her relaxed composure went stiff and how she kept playing with her hands under the table had me on alert. When she gave Mrs. Lee a forced smile, I had to stop myself from running in there and asking Mrs. Lee to go bother someone else. Rationally, I knew I was probably jumping to conclusions. Mrs. Lee was a sweetheart—she used to give my parents a room for their anniversaries where they could go out without my brothers and me.
When I looked up again, I couldn’t hold myself back much longer, and I knew this attraction with Juliet had only grown since I had gotten to know her more. It was something I couldn’t contain, and I didn’t want to. I walked in making a beeline towards her. There was a tear sliding down her porcelain skin, and before I could greet her, I wiped it off her pretty face. The action made her jump in her seat, creating a soft gasping noise that had my mind going
elsewhere.
Everything Juliet did was delicate and poised, and I knew I wanted to make her lose control.
“Did Mrs. Lee say something to upset you?” My tone was gruff, demanding, but I couldn’t help myself. I was too close to Juliet. Her delicate smell made me lose some restraint.
“No, not at all.”
“Then, why are you crying?”
“I got something in my eye.”
“Baby,” I pressed without realizing I’d said that damn word again. And it wasn’t the right thing to say.
“I’m okay, Jake. You can go back to whatever it is you were doing.” Her standoffish answer was not what I was expecting.
“You mad at me, babe?” I asked.
Her eyes flashed with annoyance instead of going soft like they usually did.
“I’m not mad. To be mad at you, you’d have to say something to insult me or hurt my feelings, and you haven’t said anything at all,” Juliet said, dismissing me.
Oh yeah, she was mad. Juliet turned her head, not giving me a glance, so she missed the knowing grin I cast her way. She had noticed I’d ghosted on her, and I liked it. Hell, Juliet pissed at me gave a challenge, and I hadn’t had one of those in a while.
“Look, I got a cookie.” A little girl came barreling our way.
The cookie she had in her hand got chipped as she tried climbing the booth. Then she tried to give it to Juliet, and it fell on the table.
“That’s for you. It’s oatmeal.” The little girl grinned proudly at Juliet.
My chest tightened from the warm smile Juliet gave the little girl. She hadn’t given me a smile like that either. Grabbing the cookie, Juliet brought it to her nose and smelled it.
“Hmmm, smells good.” Juliet brought the cookie to her mouth and pretended to eat it.
“Mine, mine.” The little girl snatched the cookie back and ate it. “Hey, you. Who are you?” She cocked her head, finally taking notice of me.