Chapter 11
Chapter Eleven
Jessie
I’ve been in a weird mood all day. It started as soon as Walker came home from work at lunchtime. I knew it was the end of my time with him and Eli.
The moment I handed her back to him, I grabbed my bags and rushed out before he could see the tears pricking my eyes. I felt like a fool. I had spent one week with them. There was no reason for me to feel so emotional about it.
The entire walk to work, I cursed myself for letting my heart get mixed up in Walker again. I’d thought I buried my feelings deep enough that they’d never resurface.
And yet spending the week with him—watching him become a father—it was impossible not to crack in half as he took on the role with no questions asked.
I glance down at my watch. It’s after seven, and I know I need to go home. Just thinking about going back to my place depresses me.
I need to shake this.
With Eva at home with the baby, I know I have to find another alternative.
I reach for my phone and send out a text to my friend Melissa. We went to undergrad and law school together. We go way back, having known each other since we were eighteen. She’s a lawyer at a large firm here in the city.
Me: Tell me you’re out right now. I need a drink.
As I pack my things into my brown leather bag, I feel the fear pressing against my chest. It took me years to stop thinking about Walker every night before I went to sleep. I can’t let this happen again.
My phone beeps. I nearly knock it off my desk as I fumble to open it.
Melissa: You’re in luck. Just got done having a drink with our new clients. They’re the worst humans on this planet. Come join me. I need another drink to recoup from the last hour of my life.
I text her back as I walk out the door.
Me: Tell me where. I’ll be there soon.
On the way to the restaurant, I decide to call my dad, and just like always, he picks up on the first ring. He always drops everything he’s doing to take my calls. I’ve told him time and time again that he doesn’t need to do that.
“Hi, Jessie girl.”
I smile at the familiar greeting. “Hi, Dad.”
“How’s it going? Have you had a good week?”
“Oh, you know, it’s been … different. I’ve spent every night at Walker’s, trying to help him out. Tonight is my first night back to my normal routine.”
“Ah, poor guy. Are you sure he’s gonna be okay tonight?”
“I’m sure he’s fine, Dad. He caught on pretty quick. I’d thought he was a lost cause, but he’s really stepped up.”
“I’m not surprised. Good kid, that one. He’s going to be a terrific father.”
“Yeah, he might not know it yet, but I think so too. Anyway, how are you doing? Any plans for the weekend?”
He sighs. “Oh, your mother has our calendar filled with social events. I tell ya, she has more energy now than when I met her.”
Typical. Social status is very important to my mother. She has always put it at the top of her list of priorities—frequently over her responsibility as a parent.
“Why don’t you just tell her you don’t want to go? It’s your life too.”
He chuckles. “Because I love her and want to make her happy. Plus, it’s easier to go with the flow. Oh, she’s right here. You want to say hi?”
Before I can respond, insisting I have to go, he hands her the phone.
“Hello? Jessie?”
“Hi, Mom. How are you?” I ask, bracing for the answer.
She goes into a five-minute tangent about what Barbara down the street said about their friend Nancy. By the time she’s done, I’m standing outside of the restaurant, desperately trying to figure out how to get off the phone.
“Oh dear, look at the time. We have to be at the Walshes’ house in thirty minutes. I’m so sorry, but your father and I must go. Talk to you soon. Love you.”
Instead of dwelling on how little I have in common with my mother, I walk through the doors to the restaurant to find Melissa waiting at a high-top table just to the left of me. She waves and smiles enthusiastically as soon as she spots me, then holds up a glass of white wine as I approach.
“I ordered your favorite,” she tells me as I sit.
My shoulders sag with relief. “You’re the best. Thank you.” The first sip goes down easily, the stress of the day slowly melting away.
“Rough day at work?” she asks.
“I wish,” I reply as I take another sip.
What I wouldn’t give to be dealing with work-related stress at the moment. There’s always a solution or an end to it eventually. There are distractions after work, like friends or my favorite TV shows to offer comfort.
But I know what it’s like to cry myself to sleep over Walker. There’s nothing that makes it better.
Her tone turns more serious. “Is everything all right?”
She knows about Walker. I told her all about it my freshman year of college, when I was consumed with my feelings of regret and embarrassment.
“It’s … Walker.”
Her eyes widen with disbelief. “Walker? Like Walker, Walker? The same Walker who broke your heart and made you feel small and insignificant?”
I lean my elbow on top of the table and let my forehead fall to my hand. “Ugh, yes. That one.”
“What the hell did he do now? I thought you hardly saw him despite Eva living here now.”
“I didn’t. Not until he called me, panicking, last week.”
“He called you? The nerve of the asshole. What did he want?”
“It’s the craziest story, Melissa. You’re never going to believe it.”
“Try me,” she replies, crossing her arms across her chest.
I run through the entire week of events. Every. Single. Detail. Even him pressing me up against the wall, nearly kissing me, and telling me how badly he wanted me, but couldn’t have me.
Her hand is resting on her chest, as if the story physically struck her. Her other hand is stuck in motion halfway to her mouth. “You’re kidding me. Jessie! Holy shit!”
I raise my glass, then take a sip. “Yep! Hence my desperate need for a drink.”
“And so … like … now what? How are you feeling about all of it?”
I glance away, the pain rising to my chest. I try to blink away the tears that hit my eyes.
Her hand rests on my arm. “I’m sorry, Jessie. I know how hard it was for you to get over him the first time.”
I meet her eyes. “I don’t think I ever really got over it. I just buried my feelings.”
She nods in understanding. “I don’t get it. What does he mean, he can’t have you?”
A bitter laugh escapes. “Who knows? He won’t talk about it.
I thought it might have been how young I was at the time, but that doesn’t make sense.
That wouldn’t be an issue now. But he’s still acting like there’s something holding him back.
” I shake my head. “It was easier to hate him when I thought he just didn’t want me.
Now … when he acts like it’s torture to stay away …
I feel … shit … angry again, I guess. But in a different way. ”
“That makes total sense. Of course you’re angry. It’s not fair for him to be so vague with you. And to call you, of all people, to drop everything and help? Ugh, asshole.”
I should jump on the bandwagon and vent my frustrations. Calling him an asshole worked a decade ago, but I don’t feel that way anymore. Deep down, I’m glad he called me. I loved every second of my time with him and Eli.
I drag a hand through my hair, frustrated with the whirlwind inside of me.
It would be easier if I could just shut it all off, pretend that none of it mattered to me.
But the truth is, he’s tangled into everything.
Every quiet moment when I let myself imagine what could be.
And no matter how hard I try, I can’t untangle myself from him.
“But he’s not an asshole. It was easy for me to tell myself that all these years.
It kept the anger at bay so I could make it through another day without him.
But now …” I say as I wipe away a tear. “Now, it’s like that dam is broken.
I got a glimpse back into his soul, and I can no longer pretend. ”
“So, what are you going to do?”
I sigh as I face my new reality. “Nothing. There’s nothing to do. I just have to … feel my feelings.”
The waitress walks by us, and Melissa stops her. “Hi. Can we get two more glasses of wine, please?” She turns back to me. “In that case, we need more alcohol.”
A quiet laugh tumbles from my lips. “I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make this night so depressing.”
She turns her head to the side as her gentle eyes hold mine. “That’s what friends are for. We sit through the depressing times, even if there’s no solution, and help ease the pain.”
Melissa does her best to distract me for the next couple of hours. We laugh and reminisce about old times as we get tipsy off our three glasses of wine.
The laughter fades the moment I hug her goodbye and walk home to my apartment.
The silence in my bedroom presses in, too heavy, too sharp.
The memories, the questions, the ache in my heart—it all comes rushing back to me as I lie in bed.
I sink further into my pillow, wondering if tomorrow will feel any different …
or if the morning light will only make the weight of it all harder to bear.