42. Fia
Fia
I’m reading a reply from Eddie when the familiar sound of a vintage Harley rumbles in the nearby parking lot. Luckily, it’s overcast today, and the park isn’t too crowded. A few families picnic in the grass under some oak trees, but Daisy and I have the swings all to ourselves.
Eddie: Cleaning will be done Thursday morning, you can move in by noon!
“In four days, we’ll be home,” I tell Daisy, with a sigh. But the sigh doesn’t feel like relief, not fully anyway. There’s still a stabbing pain in my chest, a hurt that’s anchoring me.
There’s no text from Caden yet. Not that I’d even text him back if I’m being honest with myself.
“Wasn’t sure if you’d show.” I smile sheepishly at Jesse as he walks towards the swings with his motorcycle helmet in hand, black leather boots crunching the mulch below.
“Of course I’m going to show.” He drops the helmet on the nearby picnic table, which is full of my stuff. A soft cooler with lunch, a diaper bag, the stroller, even a book. I left the guesthouse this morning, and I don’t want to go back.
Though I know eventually I have to. Eventually I have to face everything.
“Hey, baby cakes.” Jesse smiles at Daisy. She swings gently back and forth as I push her.
“How is Penny?” I ask hesitantly, avoiding looking at him.
He shoves his hands in the pockets of his black jean shorts.
“She’s hurt—she doesn’t understand why you hid everything from her.”
I bite my lip, hard. “Is she mad at you too? I am so sorry I asked you to keep it from her.”
Jesse shakes his head. “She wasn’t happy . . . but we’ll be okay.”
“I didn’t mean to drag everyone into my storm,” I reply and continue to push the swing, but my eyes begin to burn.
“Don’t beat yourself up,” Jesse replies, and I cast my eyes down, suppressing a sniffle.
“You know I never meant to hurt Penny, I only wanted to show her what I was capable of.” I feel like a broken record, desperate for someone to understand me. “I just need a sister, not a mom,” I whisper. “You should’ve seen the way she looked at me . . .”
He doesn’t respond, not right away. Jesse’s calculated, the calm to my sister’s storm. He shifts, stretching his arms out to rest on the swing poles.
“I can’t speak for her, but I know she loves you. A lot.” He shrugs. “Sometimes love comes out in different ways. Sometimes it’s too much, or comes out wrong, but the intentions are there.”
His words sink in, twisting my guts. He could be talking about Caden with those words too.
“I don’t even know what to say to her, or where to start. On top of lying to her for weeks, she also thinks I’m an idiot for trusting Caden.”
Jesse steps forward so we’re squared off. “Why would she think that?” he asks, eyes narrowed.
I pause to think about what to say next, because it’s going to have consequences.
But I’m done lying—to my family, and to myself.
“Caden and I had a bit of an argument." I swallow hard and shrug one shoulder.
Jesse frowns. “Did he hurt you?”
Fire dances in his green irises, and I shake my head. “No, no, nothing like that. He just . . . He hid things from me, things he didn’t think were a big deal, but to me they were.” I sigh, rubbing my temple, feeling an impending headache.
Every time I think about the situation with Caden, with the house, with the loan, all of it . . . it’s messy. My heart and my head are in battle, and I’m exhausted from playing referee.
Then add in my sister being mad at me, and it’s too much.
Daisy grips the rubber seat, rocking back and forth, and I flash a little smile at her.
Jesse leans down, searching for my eyes. “What’s going through your head?”
I wish I had a simple answer, but I don’t.
I groan and run my hands down my face. “I don’t know . . . It’s like I don’t know what strings to start untangling first, and the more I think about it, the more I just freeze.”
I hate how helpless I feel.
Daisy starts to squirm in the swing, so I pull her out and we all walk towards the picnic table, where I strap her into her stroller and give her water and a snack.
“Can I ask you for a favor?” I look at Jesse. He sits at the table, legs spread out long in front of him.
“Anything.” His voice is low and calm.
I play gently with Daisy’s springy curls.
“Can you help me move my stuff back into the house on Thursday?”
Jesse leans forward, resting his knees on his elbows as Daisy munches on Cheerios.
“Yeah, of course. I have a busy schedule this week, but just give me the time and I’ll see what I can do.”
I sit on the picnic bench, one hand resting on Daisy’s stroller, one balled into a fist in front of my mouth. “Thank you . . . for everything.”
Jesse rests his arm around my shoulder, pulling me in for a quick side hug.
“I should probably get going,” I tell him.
We stand and Jesse grabs his helmet, turning towards me as I pack up the stroller.
“Don’t wait too long to talk to your sister, okay?” he says, looking over his shoulder.
I nod, my throat tight.
I load Daisy into the car, and we head into town, straight towards the used bookstore. It’s the only place that feels like safe territory right now.
A bit of calm falls over me as I park in the gravel lot, and even if I get only fifteen minutes in here before Daisy demands we leave, it’s fifteen minutes of peace from the war in my mind.
But as I walk up to the store, pushing her stroller, there’s a new sign taped to the old green door.
Going out of business after 26 years! Last week to shop, everything 50–75% off, get it before we’re gone!
My stomach clenches.
I close my eyes, expecting the words to be different when I open them again. They’re not.
It feels like someone pulled the rug out from under my feet as I browse half-empty shelves, not able to even read the spines of the remaining books through misty eyes.
Then Daisy accidentally drops her sippy cup, and the lid pops straight off, spilling sticky apple juice all over the floor.
“You’ve got to be kidding me,” I moan and flash my toddler a very unconvincing smile.
“It’s okay, honey, we’ll clean it up!” But as I’m digging under the stroller for napkins I swear I stashed back there, my phone buzzes.
I look at it, thinking maybe it’s someone. Someone other than who it actually is.
Halle: I did it!! I passed my exam! I’m graduating, baby!
Squatting on the floor, I bite my cheeks and reply with a million celebration emojis. An employee rounds the corner, and we lock eyes.
“I’m sorry—” I start, but she waves her hands.
“I’ll grab paper towels. Be right back!” she says and I close my eyes, sighing deeply.
Daisy begins to whimper, and in a desperate attempt, I dance her hands around, hoping to buy a few minutes.
But as I do, a single tear escapes from my eye, because I tried to take control of something and failed. My sister’s mad at me. In just a few weeks, my best friend and the last person in this town who doesn’t have an issue with me is leaving. The man who I thought loved me is a liar.
And this bookstore is closing.
What’s the saying . . . the straw that broke the camel’s back?
I think I get it now.