by Rachael Wade
“You sure? ‘Cause you seem kind of—”
“Yeah, of course I’m sure.” He cupped my cheek and kissed it with a sad smile. “Sorry, I’m a bit distracted this morning.”
“I can tell.” I kissed his cheek back. “I found the acceptance letter in the mail when I got back from your place the other day.”
“And you didn’t call me?”
“I couldn’t.”
“Couldn’t or didn’t want to?”
“Um...both, I guess.”
Jackson’s cell phone began to ring, loud and harsh. I winced at the sound. “Ah, sorry, I have to take this. Give me a second,” he said, releasing me to pull it from his pocket. He answered and stepped out the cabin door, just out of reach, voice hushed. “Yeah, I’ll be there at ten. Lemmee call you back.” There was a pause. When he spoke again, his tone was sharper, irritated. “Because I can’t talk about it right now.” He hung up and returned to join me, slipping in through the cabin door. “Sorry about that.”
“Is everything okay?”
“Yeah, just taking care of business.” He stood across from me now, hands like steel on the countertop. I glanced at the space that stretched between us. He had formed an ocean. “Wow. Ss-so this is big news.” Jackson stuttering. Holy shit, this was tanking fast. The energy in the room took a nosedive, each second growing more dismal.
Feeling frantic, I stood to my feet, searching his eyes. “Yeah, I know. But look, we can be together. This doesn’t change things between us.”
“It changes everything.”
“It doesn’t have to.”
He let out a short, sarcastic huff, the sad smile I hated returning to his face. “God, this is familiar.”
“There are such things as long-distance relationships, you know. And I’m determined to have one with you. Can you do this? Because I can.” I stepped forward, not touching him, just urgently looking for his answer. I needed him to be as okay with this as I was.
But he clearly wasn’t.
“Emma, you barely trust me when I’m 15 minutes away. What makes you think you’ll trust me when you’re across the—”
The cabin door creaked then swung open. “There are the happy homeowners,” Ruben said, smiling, stomping in with a big cardboard box in his hands. A short, stocky man with a friendly smile followed behind him, briefcase in hand.
“Ruben—” Jackson started, his jaw tensing.
“Congrats, Em. Jack, John’s ready to go over the paperwork as soon as—” He stopped when he saw Jackson’s face, then the shock on mine, his joyous greeting dwindling.
“Thanks a lot, man. Smooth.” Jackson spat, jerking forward to rip the box from Ruben’s hands and chuck it to the floor. “I haven’t told her.”
“Uh, Jackson, we’re here a little early,” the stocky man named John said, nervously adjusting his tie. He touched Ruben’s shoulder to get his attention. “We’ll come back at a better time.” He turned and hurried out of the cabin. Ruben raised his hands in a silent apology, avoiding Jackson’s heated stare, then followed the man’s exit.
I glanced at the box on the floor, flinching when the cabin door shut behind them. “Homeowners?” I gulped. “As in...plural?”
Jackson let himself fall back against the cabinet, his defeated sigh spilling into the silence. “Yeah. Plural. Surprise.”
“You bought a house.”
“It’s a shack on the beach. Not much bigger than this cabin. But yeah, it’s a house.”
“For us?” I crept forward, still stunned. As I focused on trying to digest what was happening, I began to notice the boxes in the cabin, the ones I’d been filling while helping him clean and redecorate the boat the past few weeks. Two, then three, suddenly popped out at me, noticeably different than before. They were now packed tight with tape, in neat, organized little stacks, each one labeled. “All this time I’ve been helping you pack this stuff, and it wasn’t for storage at all?”
“Nope. I have one final meeting with the realtor scheduled for 10 o’clock this morning, to handle the closing. Then I was going to give you this.” He dipped a hand in his pocket and pulled out a keychain. It was a white sailboat picture ring, with a photo of us embracing on the beach pressed into the tiny boat-themed frame. “I wanted to be able to hand you the key to our first home. I’m selling the boat to buy us a place. Stupid, I know.”
“You what?” I hated the tone of my voice, that it sounded so angry, but a part of me was. Angry that he’d be willing to give up something so important to him. “You’re telling me you’re selling your father’s boat?”
“Yes, Em. That’s what I’m saying. The guy that was with Ruben is John, the new owner. I need to give him the title for the boat before I meet with the realtor at 10, and I’ll use the money from the boat for the rest of the down payment on the house . And I get a paycheck from the club today, so I’ll have just enough to pay Natasha back.”
“And you did this for us....for me?”
“That was the plan.”
“So Ruben’s known about this? Everyone has?”
“I didn’t tell anyone until just recently. I figured they’d think I was an idiot, or that I’d never be able to pull it off.”
“Oh, Jack.”
“You don’t have to say anything, Em. I knew there was a chance you’d get into that school, and I did this anyway. I’ll deal with it.”
“Deal with it?” I stepped closer, gripping my messenger bag tight across my chest. “You have to get your boat back. Listen to me, you have to get it back.” I looked down at my shaky fingers, at the key ring and the picture it held. I could not be the reason he gave up the last piece of his father, his happiness, the boat with his mother’s name. I couldn’t. Not when I was about to move across country.
“It’s a done deal.”
“But you’re going to meet the realtor at 10, right? And you haven’t actually given John the title to the boat yet. That means it’s not in stone.”
“I’m going to do this, with or without you.” Reaching for the key ring, he gently plucked it from my hands. “I was just hoping it would be with you.”
“Please get this boat back. Oh, God, Jack, you have to—”
“Why? So you don’t have to feel bad?” His face turned to stone, voice frigid. “No, Emma. I’m not getting the boat back, so please just drop it. Look, this right here? This is exactly what I don’t want to do—me resent you, you resent me, do this stupid dance. I love you too much to put us through that shit.”
“Resent me? Two seconds ago you said you were happy for me.”
“I’m thrilled for you,” his voice softened, but his jaw was still tight. “That’s the problem. I won’t ruin this for you. I refuse. But if I stay with you and attempt this long-distance thing you’re talking about, I will ruin it, because I’ll be too angry. So I won’t do it. I won’t.”
“Wait a minute.” I stepped right in his face, our noses leveled, my anger boiling over. “Don’t be so quick to give up. You’re one of the most stubborn people I know, Jack. You don’t stop looking for answers like that. You’re persistent until you find a way to get what you want. And you’re just giving up, like that? What’s gotten into you?”
“This isn’t me giving up. It’s me knowing what’s best for us.”
“I get a say in that, too, Jackson!” I grabbed his arm. “There you go again, leaving me out of things because you think you know what’s best for us both, when in reality, it’s only what’s best for you.”
His hands found the sides of my head, his fingers weaving forcefully through my hair. “Listen to me, Emma. And listen good, because I’m not going to say it again. This would’ve happened no matter what. I told you a while ago that the idea of buying a place had crossed my mind. And being with you has made me want that more than ever. I worked hard for it—maybe not the way you would have hoped—but I did it, I’m proud of it, and I’m going to move into this place whether you leave this island or not, so don’t you dare fight me on th
is, and don’t even think about changing your plans for me like you did for that asshole. It’s not an option, you hear me?”
Tears sprang to my eyes from the emotional whiplash of what had just transpired between us in a matter of mere minutes. I blinked, letting them run hot down my cheeks, knowing I’d done this to myself. What did I expect him to say? How did I expect him to feel when I told him the news? The answer was I didn’t know, because up until this morning, I hadn’t truly considered his feelings at all, just assuming he’d stay with me if I went to school out West.
“But you’re not giving me any say in this,” I cried, my fingers finding his knuckles in my hair.
“You had a say. I heard you loud and clear. I’m just saying no.”
“So...you’re breaking up with me? You can’t seriously—”
“This is what you’ve wanted. This is what Jen would’ve wanted for you, and you know it, damn it. You need to leave this place. Move to Seattle and go to this school. For the love of all that is holy, get the hell out of here and never look back. You’ve made your choice, Em. You chose your dream over me, and that’s okay. It’s a good one.”
“I haven’t made a choice yet! I want you. I love you. Your love has changed me, Jack. You’re my dream, too.”
His fingers pinched the roots of my locks, causing the tears to flow harder. As I stared into his blue irises, I watched his stern determination start to break, heartbreak softening each line in his face. He really was ending our relationship, and there wasn’t a damn thing I could do to stop him.
“I know, baby. And you’re mine. But I wouldn’t be able to live with myself if you stayed, and I won’t make it if you’re states away from me. I can’t put myself through that.”
“You can try.”
“I don’t want to.”
“A clean break is not going to fix this, Jackson!”
“I knew this was a possibility,” he said roughly. “I’ve been preparing myself for it, hoping that you’d see the house first and...ah, shit. Never mind. Look, I won’t lie to you and tell you it doesn’t fucking hurt, because it does. But no one deserves this opportunity more than you. You deserve it—all of it. So before I crack, please get off this boat. Walk out the damn door and go.” He released me abruptly and stepped back. “We’re done, Emma. Right now. It’s over.”
“No, Jackson, I’m not done,” I moved forward again, but he stopped me. “Why are you doing this?” Darting to the left, he grabbed his keys and stormed out of the cabin, the door slamming behind him. I shook my head in frustration, the helplessness pricking at my skin. There was so much more to say. He couldn’t really expect that to be it, could he?
“Jackson!” I screamed after him, but my legs didn’t move. They couldn’t carry me. My knees locked, and I was sure running down the dock after him while he so vehemently rejected me would cause my mind to inherit a memory with too heavy of a weight to bear. With sluggish fingers, I pried my cell phone from my messenger bag, punching in my mom’s phone number.
Her voice filled the other line. “Honey, it’s so early, are you okay?”
I worked hard to speak clearly through my sobs. “Can I come over after work?”
“What? Sure, Em. Oh, honey, why are you crying? Are you on your way to work now? You shouldn’t be driving if you’re upset—”
“I’ll be fine. Just expect me at six, okay?” I hung up and slipped the phone back into my bag, then squared my shoulders, lifted my head, and charged out of the cabin I’d never see again.
***
Finally, I had a glimpse of what zombies must feel like. I’d morbidly wondered, watching those disease-ridden, flesh-crazed monsters run amuck in all the horror flicks I used to watch with Chris. But today, I was one of them. The mystery had vanished. I’d somehow driven to work on autopilot after leaving Jackson’s, made it through my morning shift with a few grumbles, jerky head nods, and blank stares, and I even made it through my lunch hour, although I don’t remember much except the fact that I’d barely touched my food.
Miss Velma was quiet most of the afternoon, only getting snippy once or twice when I’d mumbled about how I couldn’t read to her today. Normally, I’d feel bad about doing something like that, but the zombie zone kind of nixed my empathy for the human species. I made it to my mom’s at 6:15, collapsing on the porch swing, her arms wound tight around me.
“Ssshhh, I got you, baby. I got you,” she said softly, smoothing my hair as she spoke. My tears blurred my vision of her, but I could make out her soft green eyes and the concern in them. She was wearing her favorite pink apron, the frilly, ruffled one passed down from my great grandmother. “Tell me what happened, darlin’. Aren’t you supposed to be in class tonight?”
I stabbed at my eyes with a tissue. “It’s the last class of the semester before finals. I can miss.”
“Are you sure? Isn’t the last class kind of important?”
“I have an A and my attendance has been okay. I’ll be fine.”
“If you say so...”
“Jackson broke up with me, Mom.”
“What?” She pulled back to look at me for a moment. “Why? When?”
“Just this morning. He bought a house and was ready to ask me to move in with him. And I told him about Pike Pacific.”
“Oh, honey.” She squeezed me tighter and used her foot to kick off the floor, pushing the porch swing until it began to rock us in a lazy sway. “What are you going to do?”
“There’s nothing I can do, he won’t listen to me, won’t do long distance.”
A knowing hum buzzed from her warm throat. “He doesn’t want you to give up your college plans.”
I nodded. “I told him I didn’t have to give anything up. He refuses to stay with me if I go—says it’ll be too hard for both of us and that we’ll just resent each other—and won’t stay with me if I stay, either. It’s lose-lose and I’m just so...” another deep cry erupted from my chest, “God, I love him so much, Mom.”
“I know, darlin’, I know. Well, he’s not doing you any favor playing the martyr like that, but his intentions are good. And believe it or not, he’s doing the right thing.”
“How can you say that? He didn’t give me a choice.”
“You didn’t give him one, did you?”
“No, but I promised myself—you and Jen, too—that I wouldn’t derail my academic plans again. Not for anyone or anything. I just thought he’d give the long-distance thing a try.”
“Plans change, honey. He’s just being honest with you. Long-distance is definitely not for everyone. Just because you’re open to it, doesn’t mean he has to be. Look, you wouldn’t be any less loyal to yourself if you gave up Seattle for Jackson. You’d be choosing another dream, not settling for a lesser one. And you have no one to keep promises to except for yourself, so just rule out disappointing me or your sister right now. We both want your happiness, that is all.”
“Well, he doesn’t see it that way. He doesn’t want to be the reason I stay.”
“Someone needs to talk some sense into that boy.”
“Mom, I came for something else.”
“I know. Are you sure, Emma? This might not be the best time—”
“Jackson’s forcing me to move on because he loves me. If I’m going to do this and go to Pike Pacific, I need to be ready. It’s time,” I said, standing to my feet and walking to the front door.
“There’s Jen in you again,” she smiled fondly. “Go big or go home.”
Mom led me into Jen’s old room and opened the closet to retrieve the large photo keepsake box I knew so well. The floral pattern was peeling on the top, with timeworn handwriting dancing across the label.
She opened it and sifted through the stack of newspapers, finding the obituary page and handing it to me. “You might as well have an original to keep for yourself. Would you still like to use the printer to print one out?”
“No, this will do. Thanks.”
“Do you want a few minutes alone?”
/>
“I think I’ll take it home and read it later, when I feel...stronger.” I stuffed it neatly in my bag and folded my arms across my chest. “I’ve had enough excitement for one day.”
“I think that’s a good idea, honey. Wait a few days, will you? You’ve waited over a year, a few more days won’t make a difference. Are you okay to drive? I’d feel better if you’d stay.”
“Yeah, I’ll be okay. I love you, Mom. Thanks for the talk.” I reached up on tiptoe to give her a good squeeze and slipped past her out the doorway, before the smell of Jen’s old room enveloped me and launched me into another round of waterworks.
***
Whitney called during my drive home from work on Thursday and convinced me to meet her at Pete’s for dinner. They didn’t need her at the diner that night, and the second she’d heard my voice, she’d felt compelled to take me out. My eyelids were heavy with heartbreak and fatigue. As tempting as it was to drive straight home, change into my PJs, curl up with my Kindle and call it an early night, like I had the past few nights, I hated the thought of sulking alone at home. Plus, we likely wouldn’t be doing Friday nights at Pete’s for a while.
“So, work’s been slow, huh?” I asked, using all of my strength to pull myself onto my stool. Pete served me my shrimp and a sympathetic smile, sticking a signature tie-dyed swirly straw into my glass of water. “Thanks,” I said, using it to push around the ice.
“Yeah, weeknights have been dead, which really sucks, since they used to be my gas and grocery money. I might have to look for another waitressing job if things don’t change soon.”
“I’m sorry, Whit. I’m sure Christmastime and New Year’s will bring you guys plenty of business with the snowbirds and all.”