Layla – Present
Rhett and Dad left for the day; I didn’t ask where they were going, I’m just glad they’re out of the house, especially now that the path is covered with the boxes Clark finally shipped.
Boxes would lead to questions about why I’m still here a month later, when they think my husband is in Louisiana.
I don’t want to answer those questions, so I lift a box and start the process of getting them all inside and out of sight.
After dragging one particularly heavy box upstairs, I sit down on the steps by the front door and sigh. I forgot how many there were. I’m already regretting my stubborn refusal to throw anything away.
I’m holding my head in my hands when I hear a car pull up. I raise my head, hoping it’s not Dad and Rhett, because that conversation does not need to happen this way. I exhale in relief when I see Jacob. He’s walking up the path carrying a bag.
“What are you doing here?”
“Returning your clothes, sorry it took so long.” He lifts the bag, then nods toward the boxes. “What’s all this?”
“Regret,” I say as he sits beside me. “It’s everything from our apartment. I didn’t want to throw anything away. Guess the jokes on me, I have no idea how I’m going to explain this to Dad.”
“You still haven’t told him?” He sounds surprised, but there’s not a hint of judgment in his voice.
I shake my head.
“Do you want help to bring them in?”
“Don’t you have work?”
“Benefit of being the boss,” he grins.
“In that case…” I stand and lift a box, passing it to him. “Help would be great.”
I set the bag of clothes in the doorway and carry a box upstairs, placing it at the foot of my bed. Jacob follows behind me the whole way.
“This place hasn’t changed at all.” He glances around and stops at the photos tacked to the wall by the door.
“It’s weird, isn’t it? It’s like time stood still in here.”
“Yeah. It is.”
He heads back outside to grab another box.
I sit down on the edge of the bed and pick up the framed photo I keep there, the first football game Ben convinced me to go to. I’m decked out in green and cream, the team colors. We look happy. We were happy. Until life had other plans.
I look around at the boxes taking up most of the floor. It’s all that’s left of our life together. It feels smaller than it should be.
“Sorry, Layla, this one tore when I lifted it,” Jacob says as he returns. He opens the top of the box, revealing the green stand mixer Ben bought me, cushioned against a few pillows.
I kneel down and reach for it, hugging it to my chest as the tears start to come.
“Layla…” Jacob sits beside me on the floor, his hand on the back of my head as he smooths down my hair, in soft, gentle movements.
“I…I’m s…sorry,” I manage between sobs.
“Don’t apologize.”
I rest my head against him and hold on to the green mixer.
“Ben asked me to marry him the day he gave me this.” I wipe at my cheeks and sniff.
“Marrying you and the promise of your baking, he was smart.” Jacob’s smile is genuine as he looks down at me.
His smile makes me smile, even though the tears are still falling.
“Can you do me a favor? Will you get rid of it for me?”
“Layla–” he starts.
“I can’t look at it without thinking of all the things I no longer have. It’s only going to make me sad. And I’ve spent the last nine months being sad. Please, Jacob.”
He studies me, like he’s trying to decide if I really mean it. “Okay,” he says at last. “I’ll take care of it.”
He takes the box back downstairs. I start pushing a few others into my closet. Luckily, I’ve got just enough space to stack them, and if Dad remains as disinterested as he’s been the past month, he’ll never even notice.
When Jacob returns with the last two boxes, I’m holding the photo of me and Ben again. I run my thumb across the glass. At least I can look at this without feeling sad.
“You never stopped taking photos, then?”
I hand him the frame, and we sit down together.
“You look happy,” he says, smiling at the photo.
“He begged me to go to that game. I hadn’t been to one since high school.”
“Really?” There’s surprise in his voice.
I nod. “I didn’t do much when I first moved to Louisiana. When I met Ben, I hadn’t even made any real friends in college. I spent most of my time in my dorm, studying. Then I got the bakery job.”
“You worked in a bakery?”
“Yeah.” I smile. “I loved it. It reiterated to me how much I wanted to open my own.”
“Wanted?”
I sigh. “I’m not sure what I want anymore. Maybe one day I’ll figure it out. For now, I’m just trying to get through one day at a time. I can’t think about the future without thinking about him… and how he won’t be in it.” I turn away, unable to stop the sting behind my eyes.
Jacob swallows. “One day at a time.”
“One day at a time,” I echo softly.
I shift the conversation before the weight of it can crush me.
“I really did love that game.”
“Did they win?”
I grin. “Of course they won. I wouldn’t have enjoyed it otherwise.”
“You and competition,” he says with a quiet laugh, shaking his head.
I roll my eyes. “You can’t tell me you still don’t like it.”
He shrugs. “You haven’t changed, and neither have I.”
“I disagree. I’ve gotten better at losing.”
He stares at me. “I’ll believe it when I see it.”
Jacob lifts the last box and stacks it neatly in the closet, then closes the door.
“What are you going to tell your dad about all this?” he asks.
“I’m hoping he won’t notice.”
He’s quiet.
“What?”
“I didn’t say anything.” He clears his throat. “I should go.” There’s a distinct sadness in his voice, like he doesn’t really want to leave.
I don’t think I want him to leave either.
“Jacob…”
“I’ll see you around, Layla.” He picks up his jacket and heads for the door.
I wait until I hear the front door click shut before the silence sinks in again.
I want him to come back. The reality of the boxes being here, in my childhood home, presses down on me.
I curl up on the bed beside the photo of me and Ben and close my eyes.
The light from outside dims slowly, leaving me alone in the shadows.
When I hear Dad and Rhett return, I put the photo back onto the nightstand and head downstairs. Dad’s carrying two large takeout bags.
“Layla, you’re here, good. I got you something to eat.”
“What did you get?”
I go to the cupboard beside the fridge and start lifting out plates. Rhett opens the fridge beside me and grabs two beers.
“Do you still not drink, Layla?” he asks. It’s weird that he has to ask me something a brother should already know. They both wait for my answer.
“Waters fine,” I say. I keep the real reason to myself, the reason I hate alcohol is partly because of him and his friends. And then there’s Jacob’s mom, and the promise we made to each other. I couldn’t keep every promise I made to Jacob, but that one I did. I wonder if he kept it too.
Rhett lifts a glass and fills it from the fridge.
“It’s Mexican,” Dad says, “You like that, right?”
I nod and help him plate everything. We sit down in the living room. Rhett and Dad launch into a conversation about golf, apparently, that’s where they were today.
“What did you do today, Lays?” Dad asks.
“Not much.” I take a bite of the burrito and silently hope he loses interest.
“I hope you weren’t spending more time with Evans.” Rhett glares at me. I guess Dad told him about that.
“What’s it to you if I was?”
“Maybe we should give Ben a call, what do you think, Dad?” Rhett smirks as he sips his beer and leans back on the couch.
“I think you need to stay out of your sister’s business,” Dad says, looking directly at me.
I can’t hide my surprise.
Rhett doesn’t respond. He downs the rest of his beer, gets up, and grabs a few more from the fridge.
“Have you spoken to Mikah yet?” Dad asks him.
“I will.” Rhett seems agitated.
“It was never a good idea working for them, anyway. Mikah is far more reputable.”
“What did I miss? Who’s Mikah?”
“Stay out of it,” Rhett mutters through gritted teeth. He stands, pausing at Dad’s armchair. “I’ll sort it out. I’ll be back to coaching soon, anyway.” He picks up his keys from the table by the door and leaves.
“Should he be driving?”
“He’ll be fine, Lays. He always is. He knows his limit.”
“Rhett’s limit and the legal limit are two different things, Dad.”
“You worry too much.” He takes my plate and heads into the kitchen. When he returns, he’s holding a white, slightly greasy paper bag of churros dusted in cinnamon sugar. He holds it out, and the bag rustles as I pull one out.
“Did Rhett get fired again?” I ask, taking a bite.
He nods.
“Who did he work for?”
Dad lowers his head and glances up at me. “He didn’t tell you?”
“Rhett doesn’t exactly share things with me.”
“Not Rhett, Jacob.”
I shake my head.
“Jacob fired him. I told Rhett you’d been with him, and he thinks that’s why he lost his job. Give him some space, he’ll be fine. You two will be back to normal soon.”
I’m not sure Dad knows what normal is for me and Rhett, but I decide not to argue. I swallow my bite, then reach for another. Dad stretches over and gives me the rest of the bag, then turns on the game.
“Ben must be good if he’s hoping to be drafted.”
“He is.” He was. He never gave himself enough credit. Then again, football isn’t an easy world to break into, there’s always someone better. He was just getting started, and he had so much more to give.
Dad sighs and leans forward in his chair.
“Layla, you’ve been here for over a month.” He holds eye contact, and I wish he wouldn’t.
“Are you going to tell me why your husband isn’t with you?”
I set the bag of churro’s down, my body tensing. I’m not ready to tell him. I’m not sure I ever will be, but I know I don’t want to right now.
“He’s busy.” The lie stings on the way out.
“For over a month?” His brows pinch.
“He’s focusing on football. He wants to be drafted this season. I wanted to give him some time, without distractions.” The excuses spill out, and I wish they were true. I’d rather be fighting with Ben and avoiding him than living the reality.
“That’s not a reason to spend an entire month away from your husband.” He leans back in his chair. “When are you going back?”
I was hoping he wouldn’t ask that.
“I’m not sure.”
Shock flashes in his eyes. “Layla, you can’t marry someone then run back home.”
“I’m not running. It’s been years since I’ve seen you, I… I wanted to come home and spend some time here while Ben’s busy. It works for us, for now.”
He gives me a disapproving look, then nods slowly. “What about college? That could’ve kept you busy.”
I swallow. College is complicated. On the one hand, I know I should have picked myself up and finished it. On the other, I never wanted to go in the first place. I didn’t need to. That was Dad’s dream for me, not my own.
“I didn’t like it.”
He scoffs. “It’s not about liking it, it’s about setting yourself up for a future.”
“You’re right. It is. But college wasn’t going to set me up for the future I want.”
He rubs his jaw. “Just because you married someone who can provide for you doesn’t mean you shouldn’t want to stand on your own two feet, Layla. You still need to contribute.”
“I do contribute.” Or… I did.
He lifts an eyebrow.
“I had a job. In a bakery.”
He scoffs again.
“Stop.” I’ve had enough. Not even the churros are worth this conversation. “It works for me, Dad. I shouldn’t have to defend my life or my choices, not to you or anyone else.”
“I only want what’s best for you. You know that.”
I’m not sure I do.
I grab the bag of churros and head to the kitchen. If I stay any longer, I’ll either say something I regret… or tell him the truth, and regret that even more.