by Scott, Lisa
“But when?”
Good question. “I’m not sure.”
“I hate Florida, even though that’s where Disney is. So I like that part of Florida. I hate your part, though,” she said.
I needed to change the topic. “How’s school?”
She was quiet for a moment. “William Jacobs says I talk funny.” She sniffed. “He laughs at me and tries to make his S’s sound like mine. And then the other kids laugh, too.”
My fists clenched and I wanted to tell her to slug him like I did when Nate Johnson had pulled my braids on the bus in second grade. But schools kind of look down on that these days. “Well, then William Jacobs must not be a nice little boy, and certainly won’t be getting many presents from Santa this year. I love your special S’s and I love everything about you.” Oh, how I wished I were there to hug her.
“I love you everything about you, too. Except where you live. Okay, gotta go. We’re having hot chocolate now. It bubbled up over the pan, but Grandma put a candy cane in it. Bye, Aunt Ginny.”
“Bye, honey.” I hung up before she could hear my sob-fest. What had I been thinking? I wasn’t meant to be away from my family. They needed me. I guess twenty-three years of tradition trumped ten months of smitten, new love. Sending me down to Florida was like leaving a snowman out in the sun; I was slowly disappearing.
I wondered if a walk on the beach would help, maybe remind me of all the good things about living down south. Truly, it was gorgeous here and everyone seemed so happy. We lived about a mile from the beach, so I put on my sneakers and hoped the fresh sea air would boost my mood. I brought Hershey with me, along with a couple of tennis balls. At least she’d be having a good day.
I took off her leash and heaved a ball across the golden stretch of sand. A group of gulls scattered, totally put out by Hershey’s arrival. Just a few people were on the beach, tucked under umbrellas, reading, or poking along the shore, looking for shells. I thought the lapping of the waves would calm me and make me grateful for the warm, lovely day.
But it didn’t. It reminded me how much I wanted to be bundled up in a sweater, surrounded by the smell of fresh pine and roast turkey—my dad handled the latter. My phone rang again. I didn’t know if I could deal with another call from my nieces.
It was my sister. “Ginny, how do you twist these stupid, prickly pieces of tree onto the banister!” She sounded like she was in pain.
“Ten years of practice, baby.”
“No, really. It always looks so beautiful when you do it, and my garland looks like someone murdered a tree on the stairs. I wish you were here to help.” She sighed. “I think we’re going to go without the garland this year. So, are you busy decorating down there?”
I sniffed. “No, not yet. I’m at the beach right now.”
“Don’t rub it in!”
I lobbed a shell into the water. “Oh, it’s just me and the dog. It’s not that exciting.”
“Why don’t you do some baking?”
I shrugged, like she could see me. “I’m not really in the mood this year.”
“Shut up. You are Martha Stewart’s long-lost daughter, because you certainly didn’t get that creativity from Mom. What’s wrong? Aren’t things going well?”
I wasn’t ready to admit it to my sister just yet. “It’s just been a bit harder than I thought.”
Gretchen was quiet for a moment. “It’ll get better, kiddo. Just give it time.”
Inwardly, I groaned. If another person told me to give it more time, I might scream.
“It could be worse,” she continued. “You could have needles stuck in your fingers and two kids begging to update their lists for Santa. Enjoy the peace and quiet.”
I could hear the kiddos laughing in the background. “I’ll try.”
“Oh, your friends invited me to join them for their annual New Year’s Eve night out. But I told them no way was I going to be a Ginny McDonald standin, like I’m one of the not-so-famous Kardashians showing up for Kim.”
I tried to swallow, but couldn’t. I forced a laugh. “New Year’s with the girls was always fun.” I’d be missing our St. Patrick’s Day spa getaway, too. Instead of freezing our butts off at the parade, we’d spend the day at the spa and then go out later, joking around that we were sure to get lucky later that night. Never happened, but it was always a blast spending the day together.
“Well, talk to you on Christmas, Ginny. It won’t be the same without you.”
“But hey, maybe you’ll win Monopoly this year.” I hoped I sounded funnier than I felt. I tucked my phone in my pocket, took off my shoes, and stood in the foamy surf, letting the water wash over my feet. Hershey dropped her ball next to me, and started gnawing on a piece of driftwood. I stared across the water and realized how lonely I really was. Not just because Ryan was at work. I knew right then and there, this wasn’t the place for me. Just like polar bears didn’t thrive down south, neither did I.
I put the Hershey back on the leash and let her drag me home. Usually, I jogged ahead of her, but I was dreading going back to the house because deep down, I knew what I had to do; I had to leave. I couldn’t do this anymore. I had to move home. I’d be suffering one hell of a broken heart, but I couldn’t miss out on all those memories unfolding without me. Coming here had been a mistake. The phone calls from home made that clear.
Once I got back to our cute little stucco ranch, I sorted through my dresser drawers and started packing. I grabbed my makeup, my flat iron—whatever I could cram into my two suitcases. Ryan would have to ship the rest to me. I teared up just thinking about it, but it was for the best.
I thought about leaving a note, but he deserved better than that. With a trembling hand, I dialed his cell, hoping he wasn’t on top of a ladder when he answered. I held my breath while the phone rang, my throat growing tighter. By the time he answered, all I could do was cry into my cell.
“Babe? What is it?” He sounded panicked. “Ginny, what happened?”
I took a deep breath and finally found my voice. “Ryan, I can’t stay here any longer. I miss my family too much. I love you, but I love them, too. And I can’t be without them. I didn’t know it was going to be so hard. I’m sorry. I’m so sorry.” I sniffed. “I’m going to fly home tonight so I can be there for Christmas.” I flopped on the couch and Hershey set her chin on my leg. I scratched her ear.
“Ginny, you just need to—”
“Give it some time. I know, you’ve told me that so many times. But you’re wrong. This feeling isn’t going to go away; it’s going to get worse.”
“It’s just the holiday blues.”
“No. It’s not. Ryan, it’s just not going to work. I’m sorry. Please send the rest of my things home. Good luck down here, honey. I know you love it. You’ll be fine without me.”
“I wish I could come home right now and talk to you, but I can’t. Please don’t leave.”
“There’s a storm coming. If I don’t leave now, I won’t get home in time for Christmas.”
“I’m not giving up on you. Go home if you need to, but we’re going to talk about this later.”
But I had to leave: we weren’t engaged, my name wasn’t on the mortgage, I had no boss to leave in the lurch. What I did have was a family back home I was missing like crazy. And that thought only resolved my decision.
“I have to go,” I whispered,” I hung up and bawled. So this is what it’s like to hit bottom. I’d screwed up everything—for him and for me. If only my cousin Marnie could see me now. I was hardly inspirational.
I fed Hershey and then let her out one last time. I hugged her neck, nuzzling her neck with my nose. “I’ll miss you, girl,” I said, her fur wet from my tears. She licked my cheek, and leaned into me, like she knew. I took one last look at our little house that had never really felt like a home to me. “Goodbye,” I whispered. I waited on the front porch until the cab picked me up to take me to the airport. I didn’t have a car anymore. Mine hadn’t been reliable enough to make th
e trip down, so I’d sold it.
Once I got to the airport, I bought a one-way ticket from Tampa to Rochester—which cost a pretty penny so close to the holidays—and thought about calling my parents so they could pick me up when I got in. But I didn’t want worry my mother when she had so much to do for the party, and if I heard her voice again, I might break down crying in the terminal. I’d take a cab when I arrived. My flight left at 4:00 p.m. and I’d get in at 7:25. Maybe the girls and I could make decent gingerbread men the next day.
But as I counted down the minutes to my flight, hoping my courage would hold out until we left, an overhead announcement blared out the bad news: my flight was delayed because of the weather. I paced through the concourse, downing more Starbucks than should be legal in one day. My hands were shaking as I tried to read a magazine, and I tried my best to chase away the image of Ryan’s smiling face that kept invading my brain. Not so easy—it’s a really nice face.
Then my cell rang a little after five. Ryan was home by now. “Hi,” I answered quietly. I wasn’t sure if he was going to be more sad or mad that I’d actually left
“Ginny, you’re really doing this. What happened? Why now?” He sounded hurt; that was even worse.
My throat felt thick and my eyes were filling with tears just at the sound of his voice. I turned away from the man seated next to me reading a newspaper and lowered my voice. “I talked to my mom and my nieces today.” My voice was hushed, not only because I was in a public place, but also because the words were so hard to say. “I just didn’t realize how much I missed them. And they need me.” I sniffed. “But it’s more than that. You know when you had to pull over on the highway for me during the move down here? I wasn’t just carsick. I was scared I couldn’t do this. Turns out, I was right.”
The woman sitting across from me hadn’t turned the page of her book in a while. My own personal drama must’ve been much more interesting than her paperback. I’m sure she wasn’t the only one listening, but I couldn’t stop now, and I couldn’t walk away from my carry-on bags to look for a bit of privacy.
Ryan was quiet for a moment. “Honey, of course you’re not happy down here. You don’t have a job yet. You haven’t had a chance to make friends. You’re not yourself. You haven’t cracked a joke in weeks. Just give it a few more months.”
He was right. My silly sense of humor and good spirits had disappeared. I hadn’t baked anything since we’d moved down here, either. Not even chocolate chip cookies. I shook my head, even though he couldn’t see me. “It won’t. It’d just be putting off the inevitable. I’m going home, and I might as well go now so I don’t miss the holidays.”
He was quiet for a long while. Apparently, he didn’t know what to say either. Finally, he said, “I’ve got the Weather Channel on. I don’t think you’re going to be getting in tonight. The storm’s worse than they thought.”
So is the feeling in my stomach, I thought. And right then an overhead announcement brought me even worse news. “All flights to Rochester, New York are canceled for the rest of the night due to bad weather. Please check with your airline tomorrow morning for rescheduling.”
Ryan must have heard it. “Let me come get you.”
I couldn’t protest; I had nowhere else to go. “Okay. I’ll meet you by the baggage claim.”
The airline unloaded our luggage, so I grabbed my bags and set it all in a pile by a row of chairs. Sitting down and studying the carpet, I waited for Ryan to show up. A whiff of his aftershave let me know when he’d arrived. I still wouldn’t look up, but I didn’t resist when he pulled me into his arms. I let myself be hugged. “I’m only coming home for the night. Don’t try to talk me out of this.”
He kissed my head. “I won’t. I want you to stay more than anything. I love you, babe. But you’ve got to make the decision that’s right for you. We won’t be happy unless we both want to be here.”
I leaned into him and nodded. He should be yelling at me, but he was being sympathetic and understanding. I was such a jerk. Ryan was a nice guy—and not in a too-bad-he’s-not-hot way. He was gorgeous and funny, too—the whole package. He just happened to be living in the wrong place.
I followed him out into the warm night, marveling again at how different it was down here. I was usually shivering and dashing for the car this time of year. Instead, we took our time walking to the parking ramp with my bags, his hand resting on my lower back as I kicked a pebble along.
“Want to go out to eat?” he asked.
I shrugged. I certainly didn’t feel like cooking. “Sure. Wherever you want.”
He drove me to an Italian restaurant a few blocks from the house. I didn’t have much of an appetite, but I knew I should eat or I’d get a headache.
Ryan ordered us wine, and I picked the first thing I saw on the menu—lasagna. Usually a hard dish to screw up. Ryan ordered Fettuccine Alfredo, probably on my account. He knew I loved it, but feared how fattening it was. Stealing a few bites from his plate was always a good consolation.
“So, everyone back home is okay?” he asked, swirling the ice in his drink.
A little laugh escaped. “The girls called me because Mom burned the gingerbread men. We make them every year and decorate them to look like all our family members. They were real upset.”
“Then you got upset.”
Our salads arrived and I pointed my fork at him. “But it’s more than that. I’m going to miss their dance recitals. Game night with my parents. Everything.” I closed my eyes and shook my head.
He leaned across the table toward me. “But we have things to look forward to down here. Walks on the beach. Our first crop of oranges from the tree in the backyard. I’m sorry I haven’t been around much. It hasn’t been fair to you. Things’ll calm down after the holidays. I’m covering everyone’s vacation time. It won’t always be like this.”
I looked away. “Stop, please,” I whispered, panic swirling in my chest. “I’ve made up my mind.”
He said nothing, but nodded. Then a grin creeped onto his face. “Remember how we met?”
I laughed softly. “Of course. We’re probably the only couple to get together at Chuck E. Cheese.” I’d been at Brooke’s birthday party and he’d been at a party for his friend’s son. We’d gotten to know each other over a slice of birthday cake and a handful of game tokens. We’d been together ever since.
“I’m sure you’re right. But we didn’t expect that, either.” He shrugged. “You don’t know what’s going to happen. Who would’ve thought we’d be in Florida? Life’s an adventure, and I want you with me to experience it all, Ginny.”
I pushed a cherry tomato around on my plate. “I want to be with you, too. But not down here.”
He looked at me and sighed, then nodded like he understood.
We finished dinner in silence, not filled with anger, but resignation. I was no longer wishing I were in the midst of the snowstorm anymore; I wanted the damn thing to be over so I could get home.
After dinner, Ryan walked me to his car and paused before he opened my door for me. He said nothing, just took me in his arms and kissed my head. “Why don’t you go home for the holidays for a few days? A visit will do you good. Maybe you’re just homesick. I’d come with you, but I can’t get any time off.”
I exhaled. I was pretty sure if I went home for a visit, I wouldn’t want to come back. “A visit’s not enough.”
We drove home and he dropped me off at the house, explaining he was going to the grocery store. “We’re out of ice cream, and I want to get a few things before the stores get crowded tomorrow.”
I nodded, wondering if he was just being thoughtful and giving me my space. That’s the kind of sweet thing Ryan was always doing. After he left, I checked online to see if flights had been rescheduled yet, but so far, everything still said canceled.
I clicked on the live weather cam from the local TV station in Rochester. I could see nothing more than the hulking images of cars lining a city street, covered in mounds
of snow. The picture was a near whiteout. I clicked off the site. My heart had swelled seeing Ryan at the airport. But he hadn’t changed my mind; I was going home the next day. For good.
Two hours had passed and Ryan still wasn’t home. I wondered if he’d gone out for a drink. I couldn’t blame him. I turned the air conditioning down a notch, crawled under the covers, and imagined myself home in bed under my down comforter. I tried to ignore the tug at my heart, realizing Ryan wouldn’t be there with me. Tears spilled down my cheeks and I cried myself to sleep.
***
I woke the next morning to find Ryan shaking my arm. I didn’t even know if he’d come to bed or slept on the couch—or if he was just coming in from a night out. “Honey, get up. You’re not going to believe this.”
I rubbed my eyes and propped myself on my elbow. “Is it about my flight?”
He grinned, his gorgeous dimples showing up in his cheeks. “Let’s just say I don’t think you’re going to get out today.”
My stomach fell. I didn’t know if I could take another day stuck here, convincing myself that going home was a good idea. Not with Ryan and his sexy gray eyes, his strong arms that felt so good around me, and his sweet, kind voice telling me all the right things. But if I didn’t leave, I was sure we’d be going through this exact same scenario a few months down the road.
I sat up and blinked at him. “Why are you wearing a scarf and hat?”
“Come and see for yourself.” He took me by the hand and led me to the family room. Then he threw open the curtains. “We’re snowed in!”
I squinted at the windows, covered in white. “Are you kidding me? In Florida?” I walked closer and ran my finger across the pane, leaving a streak in the fuzzy white covering; it was fake snow from a can. I looked around our little house and noticed they were all like that. I strapped my arms across my chest, trying to suppress my grin. “What’re you doing?”