9 ALICE
God, that man infuriates me. I slam the bedroom door closed behind me then spin around to face it.
I didn’t want to spend any time in this bedroom, but it was inevitable.
I sure as hell don’t want to go outside and freeze my ass off, so the bedroom is the only place I can go to not be in the same room as him.
I back up until I can sit on the edge of the bed.
I put my elbows on my knees, then hold my head in my hands.
I close my eyes so I don’t look around and see all the good and bad memories that I want to forget.
I sit like this for as long as I can but eventually, my back and neck begin to hurt, and I know I will have to face it.
I take a deep calming breath. I let my hands fall away from my face, lifting my head.
I take another deep breath before opening my eyes.
Before me is the dresser that holds the flat-screen TV.
Off to the side are framed pictures of us.
We’re young and smiling wide. I have some jewelry lying around, a necklace, a bracelet, some more rings, and a pair of earrings.
We had a night out, and I just stopped here and took off all my jewelry.
I turn my attention to the closet on the left side of the room.
His side is stuffed full while my side is a little scarce.
I still have things hanging, but I took most of my clothes with me, only leaving behind the things I no longer needed.
The shoe rack in the bottom of the closet holds both our shoes.
Really the only shoes I left behind were worn-out flip-flops and old dress shoes I quit wearing long before I even left.
The bedside table on his side holds the remote to the TV, a bottle of whiskey—the one he brought in here last night—a handful of change that he probably emptied out of his pocket, the lamp that’s dusty and in need of cleaning, and random tools like screwdrivers, a ratchet, and a flashlight.
I stand and walk around the bed, having a seat on my side. I look down at the bedside table that I used. It holds the same matching lamp as the other side, but this side is littered with things I left behind. Things like…my wedding rings.
I pick up the wedding and engagement ring and look down at them.
The diamond catches the light, and it sparkles and shines.
I slide the rings onto my left ring finger.
My hand feels heavier than before. I hold it out and inspect the rings on my hand.
They still fit perfectly. For the first time in a long time, I try to picture how my life would be right now if I hadn’t runoff.
At the time, we were fighting a lot, so there’s a pretty good chance we wouldn’t have lasted much longer anyway.
The two of us could’ve agreed to split, which would’ve led to divorce and the two of us going our separate ways.
Or I guess we could’ve worked on our problems and become a stronger couple.
I lay back on the bed, letting my imagination carry me away.
What would I have done if I hadn’t run off and started my company?
There’s always a chance that we would’ve started a family.
I could be a mom right now. That warms my heart, even though being a mom isn’t something I’ve ever really considered.
Back then, I was too young, and since then, I’ve been working too hard to build up my business to even think about it.
Even if I would’ve stayed home with the baby, it would be in school for most of the day.
What would I do to fill my time? I probably would’ve picked up a part-time job somewhere, probably at a boutique or something in town.
I feel like my business only took off the way it did because of where I started it.
Something like that would never happen in this small town.
Sure, I’d probably do good around Halloween, and I’d probably get picked to make all the costumes for the school plays, but that’s nothing compared to the amount of business I have now.
The truth is, I don’t know how things would’ve played out had I stayed because I didn’t stay.
I left and found myself on a different pathway.
This new pathway has taken me to some pretty amazing places, and I’ve gotten to meet a lot of amazing people.
But the thing that gets me the most is how this new pathway has also brought me back here.
There has to be a reason behind all of it, right?
That’s how I live my life anyway. Everything happens for a reason.
I left this place ten years ago, and I took the road less traveled.
I never expected that road to bring me back here, and I can’t help but wonder why.
I must have some kind of unfinished business here, or fate never would’ve brought me back.
It has to be Cole. I have to fix things with him, maybe even help him move on.
It’s easy to see that he’s never really tried to move on.
He’s been holding on to me all this time.
And I guess a part of me has been holding on to him too.
I haven’t been able to think of having a romantic future for myself.
I thought that was because of how busy I stayed at work.
Thinking about it now has led me to believe it doesn’t have anything to do with work and everything to do with how I still feel about him.
Despite how much I hate him, I love him even more, and the more I try to stop my feelings for him, the more they seem to double.
At home, in the city, it’s easy to forget.
There are so many things to do and so many people to occupy my time that my life here almost feels like it belongs to someone else.
But being back here brings it all back. I’ve run from this life, these feelings, for ten years, and now, it’s all catching up to me.
Somehow, despite all my thoughts and heavy thinking, I manage to fall asleep.
I don’t even realize it until I wake up hours later.
After sleeping all night on the couch, the bed is comfortable and relaxing, and the stiffness I was feeling this morning is completely gone.
My eyes pop open and land on the clock that sits on the bedside table, and the time surprises me.
It’s already going on two in the afternoon.
I stretch and push myself up. I sit on the edge of the bed and roll my neck from side to side to help wake up.
I hold my arms up in the air and stretch them as far up as I can.
That’s when I feel the heaviness on my left hand that I’m not used to anymore.
My hand falls onto my knee, and my eyes lock on those rings.
I remove them and put them right back where they were on the table.
Then I stand and use the restroom before exiting the bedroom altogether.
Walking into the living room, I find the house empty.
He’s nowhere to be found, and I wonder where he could’ve run off to.
The snow is too deep, and the temperature is too cold to go far or be outside for long.
I pull back the curtain and look out the window.
That’s when I see the smoke billowing from the chimney in the garage.
I couldn’t escape him without going to the bedroom, and the garage was the only way he could escape me.
I let the curtain fall back into place as I toss another log on the fire.
I go into the kitchen and grab a bottle of water from the fridge, and then I make myself a sandwich since I haven’t eaten yet today.
My stomach is growling as I pour a few chips onto my plate.
I take my lunch to the living room to eat.
I flip through the TV channels, but nothing catches my eye.
That’s when I decide to pick a book off my shelf and keep myself entertained that way.
I pick one of my favorite fantasy books that I haven’t read in years, and it doesn’t take any time at all for it to pull me into the story fully.
In fact, the next thing I know, the door is opening, and Cole is walking in.
My eyes jump to the clock on the wall, and I find that it’s already going on five, and I’m nearly halfway through the book.
He offers me a forced smile as he turns and begins removing his outside gear.
I know that a forced smile is a way of waving the white flag for now.
But maybe I should wave the white flag forever.
There is no sense in the two of us arguing and staying at one another’s throats.
What happened between us was a long time ago.
I understand that he’s probably still hurt by what happened, but I think it’s time for both of us to heal and move on, leave the past in the past instead of drudging it all up again.
“I gotta start dinner. You want to help?” he asks, turning to face me.
I press my lips together as I close my book. “I’d love to,” I tell him, setting the book to the side and standing up.
He seems a little surprised or taken aback, but he follows me to the kitchen, and we both wash our hands.
“What did you have in mind?” I ask as I dry my hands on a towel.
He takes a deep breath, and he lathers the soap on his hands. “I thought we could make some fried chicken, mashed potatoes and gravy, and whatever else you want?” He shrugs.
My mouth begins to water. “I love fried chicken.”
“I know,” he says, offering a small smile. “I mean, I knew you used to, but I’ve never heard of anyone suddenly changing their mind about fried chicken, so I figured it was still a safe bet.”
I giggle. “I haven’t had home fried chicken in years,” I tell him, taking the chicken out of the fridge.
“I was actually hoping you’d show me how you used to make it. I’ve tried many times over the years, but I just can’t get it down.”
“Of course,” I reply, taking the deep frying pan out of the cabinet and filling it with oil. I turn the burner on medium-low and get busy with prepping my seasoning. I pour some flour onto a plate and season it with nearly everything in the cabinet.
“Really? You don’t measure anything or only use certain things?” he asks, watching me in awe.
I laugh. “No. Everything but the kitchen sink,” I tell him, sprinkling some garlic into the mixture.
By the time I have everything ready to go, the oil is hot. I roll a piece of chicken into my flour mixture, and then I set it slowly down into the grease. It begins to pop and simmer, and bubble. After the pan is full of chicken, I put the lid on and move on to the next task.
Cole peeled and cut the potatoes as he watched me with the chicken, so I fill the pot with water and put it onto the stove. He mixes up the gravy while I roll out some buttermilk biscuits. It’s not long before the smell of the kitchen has my mouthwatering.