Chapter 18 Jade
Jade
Jade pulled into her driveway and leaned against the headrest. The obnoxious Halloween decorations on her neighbour’s lawn were only exasperating the stress headache she’d been grappling with for the past hour.
Orange and purple blinking lights draped their trees, tombstones lined their lawn, and the plastic dancing zombies were kind of freaking her out.
Halloween decorations shouldn’t make her this irritable, but here she was, swearing at the scarecrow poking out from the garage.
She whipped open her front door, slammed it shut, and tossed her bag on the floor.
She was being unreasonable. Her flared nostrils and pounding chest and constricted heart were all stupidly unreasonable.
Lucy. Is. Pregnant.
Why were Jade’s insides pretending like she didn’t know this was going to happen? For months, she’d thought about this daily. But now that it had happened, her stomach was knotted so hard that she needed to sit.
The refrigerator kicked on, a low buzzing sound as it churned its way through the cooling cycle. Food. Maybe she needed food. She stared at the rows of takeout inside the fridge, and the lone bagged salad. One box, she didn’t even remember ordering. She popped open the top and gagged. ‘Gross.’
Netflix proved to be an unworthy opponent for her antsy-ness. She clicked off the screen after scrolling through a gazillion shows. ‘What the hell’s my problem?’ she muttered into the void.
No response was returned. But she didn’t actually need a response. She knew.
Against all better judgement, she’d fallen, hard. She’d tried to keep her distance, but that hurt worse. A month ago, she had decided she wanted Lucy in her life. But not being with Lucy chipped away at her soul.
Leaning into the couch, Jade lifted her head and pinched the bridge of her nose. Should she do some Pilates? Meditate? Chop some onions to help drudge up a good cry?
She had withheld physically from Lucy, as much as possible.
Their physical contact had mostly been scattered hugs or Lucy’s go-to show of celebration --– the dreaded fist bump.
But Lucy was so damn affectionate – linking their arms when they walked or just reaching out to touch Jade’s arm.
Of course, that’s just who Lucy was. She acted the same way around Drew and Mason.
She was a lovey, gooey, joy-filled person. And Jade may have misread those signs.
Yes, they’d kissed last month. But even Lucy joked the shots made her extra horny, and she would’ve humped anything with a heartbeat.
She had told Jade she felt no intimacy with sex, almost hinting that she and Jade could get it on without repercussions.
But Jade was wired differently. Sex equalled intimacy equalled love.
Only once in her life had she slept with someone she didn’t have real feelings for, and it was miserable.
The morning after, she left feeling empty and icky.
Just because Lucy could shut it off, didn’t mean Jade could.
A piece of her -– a small, vindictive, angry piece – wondered if Lucy was love-gaslighting her. Lucy was so warm, but Jade wanted more than snuggles. And every time she worked up the courage to say something, she froze. But now she’d lost her chance.
Lucy was pregnant.
Jade kicked the side of the coffee table, knocking her pinky toe just right.
‘Fuuuuu!’ She jumped, the burn shooting up her foot.
The house was trapping her. She needed to escape and let her mind settle.
At this rate, she’d be up until 2 a.m., pacing the house like a madwoman until she collapsed into bed.
After tugging on her light jacket, she stepped outside.
The crisp fall air still held a hint of warmth from earlier.
She hopped into her car, shifted into reverse, and took off for anywhere but here.
When she was with Elizabeth, isolation consumed her.
Elizabeth was the star, and Jade gravitated towards her like everyone else did.
For more than a decade, Jade maintained few friendships.
The salon co-workers rotated in and out.
Clients were clients. The type of deep, fulfilling friendship like she had with Lucy, didn’t exist. She opened up to Lucy about almost everything.
But she couldn’t talk to Lucy about Lucy.
The city zoomed by as Jade drove. Random streets turned into eerie cornfields.
She whipped a U-turn near a rustic barn and drove to the edge of town.
Civilisation squinted into focus as billboards and a gas station flickered past her window.
A neon pink ‘open’ sign flashed above an ‘all day breakfast’ and ‘homemade pie’ sign.
Maybe a rhubarb pie à la mode and a steamy cup of diner decaf would do the trick.
The bell jingled above the door. Bright fluorescent lights bounced off the red booths and silver-backed chairs.
The scent of burnt coffee grounds and fryer grease filled her nose.
She squished into the slightly sticky chair at the bar next to the old-fashioned malt machine with stacked tin cups, and rotated the menu designed as a tiny jukebox. This place was perfect.
A woman wearing a name tag reading ‘Bunny’ approached. She pushed a dusty-blond tendril that had come loose from her floppy bun behind her ear and picked up the pair of glasses hanging from a pink chain around her neck. ‘Hey there, what can I get ya?’
Heartache cake, perhaps? ‘What’s the best pie you’ve got?’
‘Well, the best pie we’ve got today is strawberry rhubarb, but that’s because it was made fresh this morning. The cherry’s my favourite, but it’s a day old at this point.’
‘Perfect. I’ll take the strawberry rhubarb à la mode and a cup of decaf, please. You got oat milk by chance?’
The woman raised her eyebrow.
‘Never mind. Black is good.’ Jade had far surpassed her sugar intake for the day, but this was exactly what the Misery Doctor ordered.
Several bites of phenomenal pie later, offset by the bitter coffee, and Jade’s thoughts still wouldn’t relax. She was in love purgatory and didn’t know how to escape.
Choice one, do nothing. That was the smart and reasonable option.
She flipped open the queer dating app she’d signed up for a few months after her divorce.
Pic after pic she swiped, hoping something would give her a spark.
But each impersonal profile, or dreaded mirror selfie, sank her spirits further.
She knew what she wanted, and it wasn’t contained within this app.
‘Can I get ya anything else?’ Bunny asked as she stacked Jade’s silverware on top of her now-empty plate.
‘No, I’m good. Thanks.’
Bunny ripped off the ticket. ‘Pay whenever you’re ready. No reason to rush outta here if you don’t want to.’
It’s like it’s written on my face. ‘Thanks. Where’s the restroom?’
Bunny pointed to the large metal sign on the wall that said ‘Restroom this way’. Jade nearly facepalmed herself. She followed the antique licence plates, Coca-Cola and Dr Pepper tin signs, and posters ranging from Marilyn Monroe to Elvis, until she reached the bathroom.
A few minutes later, Jade stared at herself as she washed her hands. Mirrors surrounded her at work. But it had been forever since she’d really looked at herself.
Fine lines had emerged around the edges of her green eyes, and … she rather liked it. Ageing was a gift. But the bags, she could do without, as they reflected the last few years, the sleepless nights, the burden of running a company.
The hours spent thinking about what a life with Lucy would look like.
Jesus. Jade needed to snap out of this. Make a decision, stick with it, and be done.
She crumpled the paper towel and tossed it in the wastebasket.
It was already past ten, heading dangerously close to her bedtime on a work night, and she wasn’t going to solve her love woes in a small-town diner on the outskirts of town.
She tugged her purse across her shoulders and exited the bathroom when she did a double-take at a couple sitting in a corner booth. ‘Mrs Dieterman?’
Mrs Dieterman jolted her head upright. ‘Jade, dear. What in the world are you doing here?’
Contemplating the biggest decision/non-decision of my life. Trying to pinpoint the exact moments when my feelings shifted so profoundly that my heart filled and then broke.
‘Needed some late-night pie.’
Mrs Dieterman gestured to the man sitting across from her. ‘This is Mr Dieterman.’
The soft-grey-haired man with curled shoulders and a smattering of brown age freckles on his cheek lifted himself to stand.
‘Oh please, don’t get up.’ Jade waved him back down. ‘It’s nice to meet you. I’ve heard so much about you.’
‘Sure is nice to meet you.’ He shook her hand with a snug grip. ‘My wife here talks about you almost as much as the grandkids.’
‘I hardly believe that.’ Jade grinned. ‘What are you two doing out at this hour? Or is this a common occurrence?’
‘Well, I’d love to say this was a date night, but sadly we just came from Rochester for a wake. My nephew.’ Mrs Dieterman stirred the coffee and clanked her spoon against the mug. ‘Can you believe it? Only fifty-two years old, brain aneurism. He just passed on Monday.’
Jade’s heart dropped. ‘I’m so sorry to hear that. Fifty-two? That’s so young.’
Mrs Dieterman patted the booth next to her. Jade accepted the invitation and slid in next to her.
‘We hadn’t seen him in years, but it’s real sad all around.’ Mrs Dieterman pooled syrup on the side of her plate and dipped a chunk of pancake in it. ‘His mother could barely stand, she was so distraught. Doesn’t matter how old your baby is; losing a child is every mother’s nightmare.’
Jade was glad she’d never know that type of deep devastation and recommitted on the spot to never have children.
‘So, you’re the one that keeps my Clara here looking so beautiful?’ Mr Dieterman smiled as he fumbled with the creamer seal.