I smiled, remembering the easy banter between Mr. and Mrs. Thompson. I did miss them, I was a part of their family for a long time. Knowing she didn’t hate me...didn’t blame me...it was like a weight had been lifted, one I didn’t even realize I was carrying. I guess maybe I’d thought they were avoiding me this week, too, so it was a relief to hear they were actually just out of town.
“I’d love to see your mom. I’ll make it a point to stop by this week.”
“She’d like that,” he said, finishing off the last of his burger. He looked at his watch. “I’ve got to get going, I have practice in a few.”
“Isn’t it the off season?” I asked, trying to ignore the way the muscles in his arms flexed as he cleaned up his trash.
“It’s never the off season, Jessie,” he said. Repeating what he always used to say when we were kids. Football players worked as hard, if not harder, in the off season than they did during the season. Couldn’t get soft now, could they?
“Thanks for lunch,” I said. “And the company.”
“Anytime, Jess.” He winked as he walked out the door.
Gone just as quickly as he’d appeared.
If I didn’t have half a burger, some fries, and a cactus in front of me, I’d almost claim he had been just a figment of my imagination.
- 22 -
“You do realize anything else you buy today will have to go in your lap?”
“Aw, come on, Mikey. We can pull some Tetris style maneuvers and fit at least one more table in there.”
“There’s already four tables in the bed of my truck. Need I remind you that your place is not all that big?”
“Two end tables for the living room, a dining table, and a night stand. Nothing wrong with any of that,” I said, hoofing it down another row packed full of amazing items. I also picked out some mismatched chairs for the kitchen table and a variety of decorations. The truck was pretty full, Michael was right to be concerned.
“What else could you possibly need?”
I stopped so abruptly, Michael bumped into my back. “You might be right…”
“Can you say that again?” he asked, holding his hand up by his ear so he could hear better.
“Shut up,” I said, smacking him in the gut. “I may have gotten a little excited and carried away considering this is my first trip out.” We started walking again.
“I’m just surprised you don’t have a list.”
I tapped my head. “I have tons of mental notes.”
“How do you remember everything?”
“I don’t know. It’s always been easy for me.” I didn’t have an eidetic memory, I just didn’t forget things. I had an innate ability to organize ideas in my head, like one would organize to-do lists and piles of work on a desk.
“Well, I could use someone with your brain at the office. I swear Shelley is the most incompetent person in Oak River.”
“Shelley Moore?” I asked, and he nodded. “She was a twit in high school. Why did you hire her?”
“Her daddy runs one of our crews, asked for a favor.”
“And now you’re stuck.”
“And now we’re stuck,” he agreed.
I didn’t need my years of HR law experience to know that was a bad idea. Never do “favors” in the workplace. Especially when it involves a job—a crucial job at that. But Mikey didn’t need my lecture.
I picked up a piece of recycled metal art, trying to figure out what it was.
“You like dolphins?” a big, bearded man asked from behind the table.
I looked at the little sculpture in my hands. I did like dolphins, but this didn’t look like a dolphin.
“I prefer land animals,” I lied, smiling at the man and setting the hunk of junk down on the table and quickly moving on.
Some of the flea market folks seemed like okay people, others were creepy as hell. Metal Guy fell into the latter category. His stained white overalls oddly reminded me a little too much of the butcher apron that dude wore in The Texas Chainsaw Massacre.
“I heard Dan brought you lunch this week.”
I rolled my eyes. Stupid small town. “Who told you that?”
“Dean.”
Should have guessed. Danny was pretty close with his brother. “Didn’t know you guys gossiped.” I passed by a few more stalls of handmade crafts. Nothing stood out. Maybe I was all shopped out. Was that a thing?
“Is it gossip if it’s true? Or if it’s family?”
“It’s gossip until you know it’s fact,” I said, not even sure if that was a thing, but it sounded like sound gossip logic—which sounded like an oxymoron.
“I know it’s a fact. I may have also seen him at your office.”
“What?” I asked, turning to face him now. “Why were you there?”
“I just happened to be driving by.”
Note to self: You have absolutely no privacy in Oak River. Especially when you live right off Main Street.
“Well, it was nothing,” I said and continued weaving through the booths. “He brought me lunch. An apology for pissing me off.”
Michael’s tone darkened. “What did he do to piss you off?”
I looked over at him, surprised by his tone. I’d never witnessed my little brother act protective on my behalf before. Or at all, for that matter. Being grown up looked good on him.
“It was nothing,” I shrugged, downplaying the argument Danny and I had at the farm. “We just have a hard time being around each other and remaining civil.”
“Seemed pretty civil at The Bar for Mr. Smith’s party.”
“Well, we go from day to night pretty quickly. It’s easy to fall into something comfortable with Danny. Then we remember we got divorced for a reason, and that reason hasn’t fully been resolved yet.”
“So what are you waiting for?”
I reached the end of the row and stopped, stepping to the side and looking up at him. “What do you mean?”
“Resolve whatever it is that needs resolving,” he said, crossing his arms over his chest.
“Michael, it’s not that easy,” I laughed.
“Sure it is.”
“No, it’s not. There are years of damage.”
“But you still love him.”
My eyes filled with tears. “It’s not enough,” I said, my throat thick with emotion. I was going to cry. Right here in the middle of the flea market. “Can we please just not do this right now?” I asked, wiping the corner of my eye.
He softened, putting his arm around my shoulders and pulling me into his side. “I didn’t mean to upset you, Jessie. You’re both still so stupid in love with each other, I just don’t get why you won’t work it out.”
Because Danny deserves so much more than me.
“I hurt him pretty bad,” I confessed. “It’ll take a lot more than a Band-Aid to fix us.”
“Jessie,” he moved to look into my eyes. “You may have hurt him, but I can assure you, that man doesn’t care about any of that. He still looks at you like you hung the moon and all the stars. You probably wouldn’t even have to apologize.”
I laughed. If only.
“No, I’d definitely need to apologize.”
“So do it,” he pressed. “You know what I would give to have one more moment, one more second, to understand why she left? I’d give my life for that chance. You don’t even have to do that. You can just walk up to the guy, say you’re sorry, kiss and make up.”
I frowned, looking past Michael, focusing on his truck out in the parking lot. I hated that my brother was right, and I hated his pain over losing Kara even more. But regardless, Danny deserved a lot more than me. He deserved a family and someone who could give him that.
“Maybe you should let him make the decision.”
Had he read my mind? Or had I said that last part out loud?
“You said you hurt him,” he continued when he saw my puzzled look. “Sounds like he should be the one who decides whether or not he forgives you, not you.”
Right again, Mikey.
The thing was, I was pretty sure there was nothing left for Danny to forgive. It wasn’t a matter of forgiving really, it was a matter of talking. It was a matter of me telling Danny every thought and every feeling. Exposing him to my darkest thoughts, laying myself out bare. I wasn’t ready for that.
“Let’s go,” Michael said, tugging me towards his truck. “I want to grab some pie from the farmer’s market on the way back and it shuts down at two.”
My laughter was light, but my heart was heavy...my mind on Danny, as usual.
- 23 -
One evening after work, I decided to walk to The Diner for dinner. On the return trip home, I took a detour down Magnolia Lane. It wasn’t an unconscious decision. Danny’s parents lived on Magnolia.
I paused at the curb and looked up at their modest ranch home. The brick was still the same bright red it was when we were children, hadn’t dulled a bit. His mother had loved the red brick and got so angry at us kids when we took our sidewalk chalk to the side of her house. We’d spent as much time pressure washing it as we had committing chalk crimes.
The memory reminded me of just how far back my history with Danny went. Our lives had been intertwined since we were in elementary school, before that even, I just didn’t remember that far back. I remembered being in the same class from kindergarten through third grade, and getting so upset when we were placed in different classes for middle school. We’d grown apart during those years, boys had cooties and all that, then reunited in junior high. He certainly didn’t have cooties then. I crushed on him so hard until he finally asked me out sophomore year.
My eyes moved from the low window of Danny’s childhood bedroom—one I snuck in and out of more than a few times—to the wide expanse of grass where so many pictures were taken. Memories made. Smiles had. We took our prom photos under the tree beside the driveway. I ran up the perfectly straight flagstone walkway to show Danny my college acceptance letter. We walked down that same walkway together, hand-in-hand, the night we’d told his parents we’d gotten engaged.
I was staring down at the rock path, so I didn’t see Mrs. Thompson open the front door. I didn’t see her walking down the walkway until her slipper clad feet were in my line of sight. My eyes darted up to her face, surprised at her sudden appearance.
“Oh, my dear girl.” She gave me a sad smile and pulled me in for a hug.
It wasn’t until I was in her arms that I realized I was crying. “I’m sorry,” I said, not really knowing what I was apologizing for in that moment. For crying? For breaking her son’s heart? For not coming to see her sooner?
“Why don’t you come inside? I just boiled some water for tea and there’s some leftover pie.”
I let her lead me into the house, wiping my eyes as I walked. I still didn’t know what to say to her. What was a woman supposed to say to her ex-mother-in-law?
The house smelled the same as it did years ago, and a new wave of nostalgia washed over me. Memories of being part of the Thompson’s family dinners flashed through my mind. Big, raucous meals that occasionally ended in food fights between Danny and Dean. Sometimes Mr. Thompson was involved as well. When the food went flying, Mrs. T would always calmly get up from the table, having faith that the boys would clean up the mess. And they always did. Those boys hated upsetting their momma.
“Sit,” she said, nodding towards the kitchen table. I did as I was told, operating on autopilot, it seemed. She handed me a warm mug and sat down on a chair catty-corner to me, then stirred some sugar into her tea. The house was so quiet, all I could hear was the hum of the refrigerator. It was nerve wracking. Mrs. Thompson was a big woman, and I didn’t mean her weight. She had a large frame—tall with wide shoulders—and she was intimidating as hell.
“You look like you’re about to pee your pants,” Mrs. Thompson said, seeming to read where my thoughts were going.
“I just might,” I admitted.
She laughed, and I couldn’t help but laugh, too. Mrs. Thompson had that kind of laugh—boisterous and infectious.
“It’s good to see you,” she said with a sad smile.
“It’s good to see you, too.”
“Don’t lie,” she joked.
I smiled. “No, really. It is good to see you. I hadn’t realized how much I missed everyone, everything, until I got back here.”
“It’s good to have you kids home again,” she said, looking down at her tea. “We missed you both so much while you were gone. Greg and me, your mom and dad, your brothers and sister, Dean. I even think Darcy missed you guys. That girl…” she trailed off.
“I’m so-” I started to say, but she interrupted.
“Don’t apologize. We understood. You two needed to go conquer the world in your own ways.”
“But we should have come home more,” I said, disappointed in myself.
“Yeah, you should have,” she sighed. “But that’s in the past. You’re here now.”
“You don’t hate me?” I couldn’t help but ask.
Mrs. Thompson tipped her head to the side and looked at me with confusion on her face. “Why on earth would I hate you?”
“Because me and Danny…”
“Went through some things no one should ever have to go through. My gosh, sweet girl, we hurt so much for the two of you.”
“But-”
“But nothing, Jessica Lynn. I can’t pretend to know exactly how you felt after being dealt blow after blow like that, but I know a thing or two about loss, about grieving, and I know how painful and all-consuming it can be. I didn’t share this openly before, and maybe I should have been more open about it, maybe it would have allowed the two of you to be more open with us, and maybe things would be different. It took Greg and me a long time to get pregnant with Daniel. We tried for years, went through what seemed like a million tests. There was no known cause. I got pregnant four times, each ended in miscarriage.”
My heart sunk for her. “I’m so sorry.”
“I don’t know what changed with Daniel,” she continued. “He must have been as stubborn an embryo as he is a man, because he stuck, and we had a healthy baby boy. Six long years after we’d started trying to have a family. Dean and Darcy came easily, too. It was like a switch had flipped, I guess. I’m not telling you this as one of those ‘never give up’ stories, I know how annoying they are, and I heard my share of them all those years ago. I’m just sharing this with you, woman to woman, a mother to a daughter. I would have loved to have been there for you when you were struggling. I’d love to be here for you now.”
A tear dripped down my cheek. For her loss, her pain, and her love. After all this time, after my history with her son, she still considered me a daughter.
“I broke Danny’s heart. How can you still…”
She smiled sadly, placing her hand over mine. “Honey, you didn’t break his heart. My son is still so in love with you. You can both be as stubborn as you need to be right now, but you’ll find your way back to each other eventually.”
Why did everyone keep saying that?
“We got divorced,” I said, as if that explained everything. It was the end of our story, was it not? The period at the end of our sentence. The final nail in the coffin. People didn’t come back from divorce...did they? Could they?
She shook her head, that I know something you don’t know look in her eyes. “You two never fought as kids. Never had an argument. Your relationship was easy in high school and college. It was picture perfect. The stuff people write romance books about. You created a perfect world for yourselves where all your dreams came true. You loved and loved and loved, but it was all you knew how to do.”
I frowned, unsure I liked the picture she was painting. Danny and I hadn’t been completely naive to the world around us, had we?
“There’s nothing wrong with the way things were. It’s wonderful that you two were able to enjoy each other for so long without arguing about this, that and the other thing. Your struggles with
infertility were the first big, grown-up problem you had. Your first conflict. Neither one of you knew how to handle it. Now, I see that look on your face,” she said, calling me out on my furrowed brows. “I’m not trying to patronize you. It’s just a fact. No one knows what to do in situations like that, they just get by. Neither you nor Daniel are guilty for what happened, but you never resolved your issues. Don’t let your first real fight be what separates you forever.”
She patted my hand, then stood from the table and went to where a pie rested on the kitchen counter. She busied herself with cutting the dessert, but I knew what she was really doing. She was giving me time to process what she’d just said.
Was it true that Danny and I had never really fought before we started trying to conceive? Was that the root of all our problems? We just didn’t know how to deal?
- 24 -
Mrs. Thompson set down a plate with a slice of warmed apple pie on the table in front of me. I thanked her, picked up the fork, and began eating. She excused herself from the kitchen, something about laundry. I barely paid attention, stuck in my own head.
I picked through my memories of mine and Danny’s relationship, from when we’d been friends as young children to the very beginning of our romantic relationship in high school, and all the way to the end and our divorce.
Sure, we’d gotten a little ticked off at one another here and there, but we never really fought. Not until we started trying to get pregnant.
I remembered the first time.
“Honey, I’m home!”
I sprung up from the couch at the sound of Danny’s goofy greeting and ran to the front hall to see him.
“Whoa,” he said, smiling as I practically threw myself at him. “Not that I mind the enthusiastic greeting at all, but what’s the occasion?”
“I’m ovulating!” I cheered.
Say Something Page 11