Yesterday Is Gone

by HJ Bellus

  Jessie slumps into a seat next to me. Whit wasted no time climbing up into his lap. Tim, Jessie’s dad, chuckles with amusement from the end of the table then goes back to reading the newspaper.

  “Daddy, it’s going to be perfect.” Whit slides her plate over to me. I go about stacking it with all of her favorites. “I just know we are going to win, and I’ll have enough money to buy a puppy and even buy a bed and toys for it.”

  “I’ll just buy you a damn puppy,” Jessie grunts.

  This earns him a jab in the ribs courtesy of me.

  She turns in his lap, tears building up in her eyes. “You don’t want to do it with me?”

  The table falls silent. Jessie is put right on the spot. And here comes a showdown between the two of them. My money, all of my money, is on Whit.

  “It’s not that at all, honey.” He taps her nose. “I think you’d be just fine doing it on your own.”

  Whit’s lower lip quivers. I reach over, soothing her back. “Hey, let’s just have some breakfast.”

  She whips her head to me, flaming anger in her eyes. “You told me we had to talk about stuff, Momma. Were you just lying?”

  I’m blown back by the tone of her voice and reddening cheeks. I stumble for words, having no idea where this outburst stems from.

  “Okay.” I nod. “I’m sorry.”

  “Whit,” Jessie says in a low tone. “Go ahead.”

  “Forget about it.” She wipes her hand under eyes. “You’re probably too busy anyway.”

  “Whoa. Whoa.” He stands up with her in his arms. “You need to calm down. Take a breath and relax.”

  He walks her into the living room. The floor plan of the house is open. The distance grants them privacy, but every word can still be heard.

  “I’m not too busy, baby girl. I’m just a sucky dancer, and you’re amazing. I’ll just ruin it. That’s where I was coming from.”

  “I want to go back to California,” she replies.

  My heart shatters like fragile glass in my beating chest. I jerk in my seat only to have Nana place a hand over mine.

  “Let him handle this,” she whispers.

  “Why?” he asks, keeping his voice calm as the rising and falling ocean.

  There are moments of silence before she answers. I can hear the sobs between each word she speaks. “Because at least there I knew I didn’t have a daddy even though I wanted one for the daddy-daughter dances. Here I have one…”

  “Whit.” He stops her. “I’ll dance my ass off for you. Hell, I’ll dance down Main Street if you want me to. You hear me? I just didn’t understand why you wanted me on the stage with you, and I’m warning you right now I suck, and that’s the absolute only reason I was unsure about it.”

  Note to self: talk to Jessie about cussing while reassuring his daughter.

  “Do you promise?” she asks.

  “I promise.”

  “Pinky promise?”

  “Double and triple pinky promise.”

  Silence thick as butter ticks by, driving me out of my skin. It takes everything inside of me to keep glued to this seat. My knuckles grow white from flexing my fists. This pain sheering my insides outpowers anything I’ve endured up until this point. Who would’ve thought letting someone else into your baby’s life would be so challenging?

  “Whit, honey, next time you feel that anger boiling up inside of you, there’s a better way to express it. I’m going to tell you what I tell my players. Step back, think it through, and choose your words carefully, okay? That means not erupting into an angry fit. I know it’s hard, and I still struggle with it as an adult, but it’s something you need to practice.”

  “Okay, Daddy. I’m sorry.”

  “I know you are.”

  “But I’m also excited you want to dance with me.”

  “I’m honored to dance with you, sweet bug. Now let’s go get our breakfast.”

  “Okay.”

  They walk back into the kitchen hand in hand. Whit wipes away a few stray tears.

  “How about we take our plates and eat breakfast out on the porch? Just the two of us.”

  “I’d like that.” Whit beams.

  She carefully grabs her plate with her tongue angled out to the side in concentration. Jessie tosses a little of everything on his, tucks their silverware in his pocket, and grabs a large glass of orange juice.

  Whit stares at him for a few beats before announcing, “I’ll just share your orange juice, Daddy.”

  “Sounds good.” Jessie offers me a sympathetic and hopeful smile. I know he’s looking for reassurance. I give him a wink because in all honesty, I couldn’t have done better myself with the way he handled the situation. I let out an exhale when the screen door slams shut. Their chatter is muted off in the distance. A few giggles can be heard.

  “Am I screwing her up?” I rest my elbows on the table and bury my face in my hands, exposing my raw and honest fear. For the first time in forever, I don’t care if everyone sitting at this table sees me as vulnerable and on the edge of cracking. I don’t have any energy to muster up a brave face.

  “No, my sweet girl.” Carolyn sits next to me, wrapping me in a one-armed hug. “You’re not at all. I’m afraid that’s the game of parenting, always wondering if you’re doing right.”

  “She’s right,” Nana adds. “It took a whole hell of a lot for you to stay in that seat and share the responsibility of raising Whit.”

  Tim clears his throat, and that’s when I look up. His reading glasses perch low on the bridge of his nose. “It’s like taming a wild colt. You never know what you’ll get. One day a shadow won’t spook them, and the next they’re bucking you off their back. You go with it and learn the movements to stay on. And Jules, you’re doing a damn good job of keeping in the saddle. Don’t know any other woman that would give my boy a second chance.”

  “Momma,” Whit hollers, running into the kitchen. “Come eat with us! Please.”

  And just like that, my feet are securely back in the stirrups.

  Chapter 19

  Jules

  I’ve been damn successful hiding out at the farm until now. It’s been a little over a month. My small family has a routine down pat. Jessie takes Whit to dance lessons three times a week; she loves going to football practice even though they’ve grown more intense with the season nearing; I stay home and write, help Nana around the house, and kick her out, forcing her to social functions.

  She’s done well getting back into the swing of things. She’s had her fair share of breakdowns where I’ve discovered her crying into Papa’s suit jackets or even sleeping with them. I don’t say a word, only stand by her side, offering silent comfort.

  I have no doubt the constant chatter and electric buzz Whit doles out has eased the grief for her, making it manageable. We’ve all become a well-oiled machine. I forced Jessie to make a list of needs for his house. The poor man is hardly ever there, but when he is, I guarantee there’s not a damn stitch of food in the fridge since he spends his time working with Brady in the fields, coaching his team, and spending the rest of every single minute with Whit and me. There have been several nights where he’s fallen asleep next to us in the bed and been gone in the morning. Other nights, he forces himself to leave before Whit goes to bed, and the pain that dances across his face crushes me.

  I kill the engine of the car, take a deep breath, and clutch my purse to my chest. My insides whirl and flip in waves of anxiety that roll over every frayed nerve.

  “It’s a damn grocery store,” I whisper to myself, swinging my legs out of the car and slamming the door with a bit too much force.

  The soles of my teal Rocket Dog flip-flops slap the pavement, matching the drumming of my heart. This is flat-out ridiculous. I’m not a ten year old who’s barely tall enough to ride the Zipper at the county fair; no, I’m an adult and avoiding the local grocery store at all cost.

  I square my shoulders, stomp one foot on the mat to open the automatic door, and walk right in. I�
��ve swum through so much more murky waters than these. But this scenario has my knees knocking together. It was life back in the day to be examined under a magnifying lens, the ones you burn and sear people with. That’s been aimed at my back for years. The only thing different is my papa isn’t at my side encouraging me to keep my head held high and carry on. No matter how pissed off I was and geared up to aim hatred toward my victim, he’d tell me the same thing over and over.

  “Firecracker, don’t hate anyone. It’s not worth your time.”

  I’d be stomping mad, and he’d deliver the message the same time and time again with no heightened emotion. It would only piss me off even more. Doors ensued slamming, and my 90’s rock blared.

  The crisp whirr of the air conditioning at the local market glides along my skin, sending goosebumps throughout. I dig around in the endless pool also called my purse until my fingertips glide along the shopping list.

  “Shit.” I whip the paper out and then bring my pointer finger to my lips, sucking on it to dull the ticking pain. Goddamn paper cuts. The most minuscule wound in the world yet the one that hurts the most. I nab a shopping cart with my free hand, sling my purse in the kiddy seat where Whit used to sit, and navigate to aisle one.

  “Jesus, Nana,” I murmur to myself, scanning all the damn spices she has listed on the paper. “Not gonna happen.”

  “Hey, honey. Are you okay?” Delores Dowd, town gossip extraordinaire, stops her cart right in front of mine. She’s blatant about staring, analyzing every item in it.

  “Hi.” I take a tentative step forward and open my mouth to tell her to have a nice day, ignoring her other question completely. She damn well heard me talking to myself and doesn’t need any more ammunition to gossip about around town.

  “How’s your little girl doing? She was so cute at the diner. Man, she looks just like you and…” She taps her chin, continuing the parade of inquiring questions.

  “She’s fine, Delores.” I grip the cart, my voice coming out forced and clipped.

  “She’s just a doll. I hear Carolyn is ecstatic learning she has a grandchild. It’s just wonderful you’ve come back to town.” She takes a step closer, barricading me between her cart and the aisle.

  Screw me sideways. She’s not going to relent. I nod, and she goes on.

  “You know it’s just wonderful you’ve let Jessie spend so much time with her. MaryAnn down at Gravy Dave’s called it the first time you brought her in.”

  “Dolores.” I hold my hand up, stopping her, then push her shopping cart out of my way. “I’m trying really hard right now not to be rude, but honestly you’ve left me with little to say that isn’t rude. So, I suggest you walk away and leave me alone.”

  Her eyes go wide and her face pales, shocked as hell someone stood up to her. She’s been used to running this town and the gossip chain. Well, it stops with me. It hurts more than I’d like to admit hearing it verbalized, even though I know damn well this has been going on since my tires hit Main Street the night I drove back in.

  I go to the fresh fruit and veggies and dodge for that aisle, all the while sucking my finger and doing my best to avoid catching anyone’s attention. This is fucking ridiculous. I pop my finger out of my mouth and grip the handle of the shopping cart. I square my shoulders and look straight ahead.

  I push my cart past her and glance over my shoulder. “Oh, and Dolores—have a nice day.”

  The look on her face is one for the memory books. The old bat was left speechless in the middle of the local grocery store aisle.

  The end of my cart rams into the stand of fresh cantaloupe, sending a few sailing into the air. Son of a bitch…the last thing I need is extra attention. I find myself silently snorting in laughter at the sight of the melons going up in the air. Ironic compared to my life right now. Everything has been turned upside down on its head. I do my best to gather them up. I kick a few under the produce stand because of my shorts biting into my abdomen. Nana’s cooking has gone straight to my thighs. I brush my bangs out of the way, glancing over to the tomatoes. They look damn good.

  I pluck the ripe tomatoes clumped together in a vine. They feel perfect. Once on a roll, I go for the onions, avocados, cucumbers, and heads of lettuce until every single fresh produce item is checked off Nana’s list.

  I skip over the meat section, chuckling to myself at the thought of Papa bitching me out. Even in California, he made sure that Whit and I had fresh beef, pork, chicken, and even fish. It was his business. The passion drove him to strive for more. The same passion catapulted him into politics, fighting for the rights of farmers and ranchers that produce food and so much more for all of us.

  Just for the fun of it, I drag my fingertips along the cool, silky saran wrap of the meat. I find myself wondering if Papa would approve of the sirloin steaks, shoulder roasts, and tenderloins.

  My spine stiffens, ripping me away from a nostalgic memory when a cackle and hushed murmurs trail right behind me. It’s a damn ghost haunting my every move. I don’t glance over my shoulder. I’d never forget that high-pitched bitch laugh even in my darkest of days. It’s from the one who’s tormented me since seventh grade. She’ll always be my worst demon and rival who has the upper hand in every move. This time she won because she had Jessie.

  “I would’ve put money on the fact he was going to propose that night.”

  “I know. Jessie told me he got cold feet when he saw how amazing the other proposal was.”

  The creak of the shopping cart’s wheels echoes around the aisles as I continue to the soup aisle. The voices of my past repeat louder in my skull.

  “I know. He’s been insanely crazy over you for, what, eight or so months?”

  “Susan, are you serious?” A resounding crash throttles the entire tiny market. “He’s been mine since forever. Jessie’s head got messed up with that bitch coming back to town.”

  Cream of mushroom, beef broth, flour, butter, yogurt, olives, and a loaf of bread.

  It’s the set of words on the list that repeats in my scattered, foggy brain. I hear everything, and it’s the sole reason I didn’t want to come out. I smile politely at some of Nana’s church friends and other parents of my classmates as they pass by. My shoulders relax, and I thank God each time none of them stops to talk. It doesn’t mean I don’t hear the whispers of “that’s her” or “I can’t believe she’s still here.” All of the voices haunt me in my own living nightmare.

  “I can’t believe the way he looked at you at Cody’s. I seriously thought Jessie was going to devour you. Remorse was written all over his face. This whole town has had Jessie and Jules married the day he was born, but we know who he really loves.”

  Check. I scan the list over and over again until I realize every single item is ticked off. I double and triple check that shit. I’m fighting to be brave as hell even though my fingers quake with each step. I stifle it all down, aiming my cart to the shortest checkout line.

  We are armed with enough ingredients to make pot roast, tacos, barbecue burgers, and fresh salads each night with every meal. And that’s all I need to know. I think about my daughter and smile as I lean on my cart, waiting for the next person to pay their bill for their groceries. Whit’s toothy smile nibbling on a fresh ear of corn. Or her gathering veggies in Carolyn’s garden. Those two are super hypersensitive over their produce, and that’s why I’m sitting here with a cart full of veggies. Greedy little buggers. They’ve been promising us a home-cooked garden meal. The truth is those two find too much damn trouble, then my smart girl gets Nana involved, and there’s no way Jessie and I could ever tell her no. These are the times we relax back in the rockers with a cocktail in our hands and smile. I lean on the cart, focusing on all the good. My future. My family. My life.

  “She’ll leave, Shayna. Jules trapped Jessie. We all knew she could, and here she’s back years later, lacing the noose around his neck. Stay strong, sister.”

  I keep my gaze forward and can tell the two bimbos are clutching hands as
if in a silent prayer to God, who would answer their desperation. Curiosity begins stinging my senses. I’m dying to know if they’re talking overly loud because they know I’m here or it it’s just their natural, annoying tendency.

  “Number?”

  I clear my throat. “Excuse me?”

  “Number.”

  I sweep my bangs out of my eyes even though there’s no hair to sweep back. My glasses are propped up there.

  “Do you have a phone number?” The teen hitches a hand on her hip and gives me all her sass that her momma bestowed her with.

  I lean onto the stand and then relax back again. I think about it once then twice, having no clue if Nana and Papa kept my childhood home number. I drum my fingernails on the counter and go for it.

  She plucks in the numbers, a beep sounds, and then she begins scanning items. The voices don’t die out. No, I’m not that lucky at all. In fact, more voices join in the Shayna-Jessie parade.

  “He has a ring. I saw it a few days before she came back into town,” Shayna announces. “I didn’t even get the chance to tell him I’m expecting.”

  “I knew it,” a random voice sings out.

  “Oh my God, congratulations!” a chorus of voices ring out.

  My spine goes numb. My bottom lip pierces with pain. I release my lip from my teeth, not even realizing I’d been biting down on it. My world falls out from underneath me, yet my stubborn legs refuse to give in.

  “Your baby will be perfection. I’m so damn excited for you, Shayna.”

  “See, it’ll just take time,” another voice sounds. “Jessie’s world has been rattled. He’s always been a great guy and will come back.”

  Bile at the thought of Jessie being the hometown hero rises in the back of my throat. Some things never change.

  “Yeah, so pathetic Jules had to drag a kid into this. I mean, why keep her away from Jessie all these years only to dangle her in front of him? I’m just crushed finding out I’m pregnant and Jessie is off doing the right thing.” I recognize Shayna’s voice.