8. Joey
Islept.
Like a baby, like the dead—choose your simile, but I slept well. And long. And so very comfortably I wasn”t quite sure where I was when I finally awoke, the sun blazing across the daisy yellow walls of the sanctuary wherein I rested.
John”s house, my fuzzy head recalled. I”d found Sammy.
The knowledge created a warm calm in my bones as I stretched out in the luxurious bed.
But then I glanced at my phone to check the time.
I”d shown up in John”s life unannounced, accepted the offer of his spare room, and then slept in until two in the afternoon?
I sprang from the bed and dashed through the bathroom, then raided the Target bags I”d dropped in the corner to find something to wear. Finally, hours too late when one was a guest in someone”s home, I stepped out into the hallway and made my way to the living room.
The house was silent. I stood in the center of the living room for a long moment, listening. Was Sammy still asleep? Surely not. I peered out the back patio doors but didn”t see him in the yard. I glanced around once more, about to head for the kitchen, when a large blue-grey cat leapt to the back of the sofa, eyeing me suspiciously with an almost electric green gaze.
”Hello,” I said, oddly uncomfortable in the cat”s presence. Weren”t cats mostly like furniture? Just sort of around but not really involved? I didn”t know this cat, but it clearly had an opinion. About me.
”Meeee-wwwwoooollll,” it said.
”Okay.” I glanced around again, hoping John might materialize to translate, but he did not seem to be here. ”I”m going to just... I”m going to the kitchen,” I told it.
The cat jumped from the back of the couch and preceded me to the kitchen, where it leapt up onto the tiled countertop and gave me the same assessing gaze from there.
”Rooowwwwr.”
”I see.” I did not know how to talk to cats. I had no experience with them at all, and was a little off balance at how invested this one seemed to be in interacting with me. ”Should I, uh... pet you?” I reached a hand tentatively toward the cat, who quickly lifted a paw and batted at my hand.
A clear no.
”No petting. Got it.” I looked around for a food container. Maybe I could distract it. ”Have you eaten?”
”Rowwr.”
I moved to the refrigerator and noticed an open can of cat food. Perfect. ”This?” I asked, holding it up for the cat to see.
”RRRooollllwwr.”
”Uh, okay. How much do you eat?” I peered into the little can, which was half gone, and then found a plate in the cabinet and dumped the food onto it. ”Okay. Here. Friends?” I placed the plate in front of the cat, who continued staring at me for a moment longer than I thought was strictly necessary to say thank you, and then it tucked into its feast.
Good. Okay. That was handled. But feeding the cat made me realize how hungry I was. I found myself a glass and poured water, and then turned to glance at the cat again. It had risen to all fours to eat, and now I saw that there was a note beneath its paws, which it had been sitting on a moment ago.
I sidled nearer, slowly reaching out a hand to pull the note from beneath the cat. It paused, watching me retrieve the paper, but didn”t complain.
Joey,
I had to go work out for a bit and then get a little time on the ice. I”ll be back by four. There”s plenty of stuff in the fridge if you”re hungry. I hope you slept well.
- John
It was a relief to find the note, though I felt a strange pang of disappointment that John wasn’t here. I’d been looking forward to seeing him, I realized.
There was a good selection of food in the refrigerator. Boxes upon boxes of prepared chicken and diced sweet potatoes, broccoli and quinoa. John was evidently a healthy eater. I could roll with that.
I made myself a plate, heated it in the microwave, and took it to the kitchen table.
The cat licked its plate and then seemed happy enough to accept my presence in the kitchen. It jumped down from the counter and disappeared once again.
Weird. I wouldn’t have thought of John as a cat guy.
When I was done eating, I had no further excuses. I needed to listen to the messages on my phone and decide what I was going to do with my life.
My mother”s were predictable. My father”s were reassuring. Those left by my friends were borderline hysterical, but I knew that was only because me leaving my own wedding in the dust was the most exciting thing that had happened in Peach Tree Grove in ages. It was Evan”s messages that kind of broke my heart.
”Babe, I just don”t get it. Weren”t we happy? Didn”t we have everything we wanted?”
We did. Or at least he did. And I”d really thought maybe it would be enough.
”Honey, I”m not mad. I just want to understand. What”s so tough that you couldn”t talk to me about it first?”
I knew he was right. A real couple—a strong couple, the kind that should be getting married—would be able to talk about anything.
”Joey, come on. At least let me know when you want to reschedule all this. I”m gonna have to rearrange a few things at the firm. This is pretty inconvenient, but I”m not mad, babe. Just lemme know when you think you”ll be ready.”
It was his last message that had me finally dialing his number.
He didn”t understand. But I could barely remember what I”d told him as I”d driven out of town. He deserved a real explanation. And for heaven”s sake, he needed to know I wasn”t going to be rescheduling anything. I swallowed a bit of fear as I held my phone, reminding myself that I’d done the right thing. For me, and for him too.
”Babe? Hi. You okay?” Evan”s voice was familiar and worried, and it softened my resolve a bit, but I knew I could care about him without him being the man I was meant to marry. ”Tell me you”re okay, baby.”
”I”m okay. I”m at a friend”s place in Virginia.” My voice was steadier than I’d expected.
”Okay,” he said, and I could hear him breathing deeply. I pictured him pinching the bridge of his nose like he often did when he was trying to think deeply or control his emotions. ”Tell me what”s going on.”
My heart pulsed with guilt and pain and regret—not at what I’d done, but at how it had affected everyone else. ”I just... Oh Evan, I”m really sorry. I should have told you this a long time ago.”
”Is there someone else?”
Surprise rippled through me. ”No! Of course not.”
”Then why would you leave like this? I don”t understand.”
”I know. I”m so sorry.”
”Joey, listen, everyone gets cold feet. Totally normal. I mean, not everyone jumps in the car and drives five states away, but...” a mirthless laugh came through the phone. ”Just... let”s get this done, okay?”
”Get this done?” I asked, surprise pushing my spine straighter as I sat staring into John”s backyard. ”Get married, you mean?”
”Yeah. I mean, the whole schedule”s shot, a lot of money burnt. But we can salvage some of it. Your mama”s pretty mad, but she”ll get over it. Just get back down here and let”s figure it out.”
I waited, but Evan didn”t say anything about loving me, about wanting to spend his life with me. He went on more about schedules and money, and I began to realize that maybe he wasn”t getting married for the right reasons either.
”Ev?” I said, interrupting his one-sided discussion of potential future dates.
”Yeah?” His voice was tense. Irritated.
”Do you really love me? You really wanted me to be your wife? Like...forever?”
”Joey...” he drew out my name like the question had exhausted him. ”Where is this coming from?”
”Do you love me?” I asked again.
”Of course.” There was no conviction in his words.
”But is it the kind of thing you don”t think you can survive without? Is it like drinking water for the first time?” John”s words rang through my head.
”What? Water? Joey, what are you talking about?”
I swallowed hard, gathering my resolve. ”I don”t think we love each other enough to get married, Evan. I think we like each other a lot and respect each other, and most of all that we”re just comfortable because we”ve known each other a long time and our families are friends.” He didn”t interrupt, so I went on. ”But I”ve done puzzles where they were lazy cutting the pieces.”
”Joey—I”m at work since we’re not on our honeymoon like we planned... I don”t have time to chat about puzzles. I can talk with you later, but I assure you, darlin, you”re the one I want to be my wife.”
The way he said that made it sound like he”d chosen me off a shelf of many suitable potential wives. It was like a door snapping shut, and suddenly I had zero doubt I’d done the right thing. I continued.
”Sometimes there are lots of pieces that fit but none that are actually right.” My voice trailed off as I finished my stupid puzzle analogy.
”Oh. Okay. Well, I think you’re the right fit.”
“I don’t think I am.”
”Jo...”
”Evan, I”m not going to marry you. And I want you to find someone you really love. Someone you can”t live without. I”m not her, don”t you see that?”
”I... No, we...” Evan was finally getting the message.
”I”m sorry. I should”ve done this a long time ago. I really am sorry, Evan. Please apologize to your mama for me.” I ended the call, hoping Evan wasn”t too upset. One thing reassured me though—I didn”t think he was heartbroken, just inconvenienced and maybe embarrassed.
I took a deep breath and held the phone out again to call my mother. I squeezed my eyes shut and tried to prepare for the barrage I knew I’d be inviting. She’d be angry. She’d twist my words and try to change my mind. She was a master of guilt. I needed to be ready.
”Josephine.” Mama’s voice was calm, reserved. That tone hid a dangerous storm beneath it. It was the voice she”d used when I”d done something grievous as a child and it had the same effect on me now as it did back then. Cold water raced through my bloodstream.
”Hi Mama.”
”You”ve made a perfect mess of everything here. It would have been less devastating if you”d just set the house on fire.”
Mama had a gift for exaggeration, though I didn”t doubt I”d essentially burned an awful amount of money and time by running away.
”I know, Mama. I”m sorry. I wasn”t thinking clearly, but I am now. And Mama? I can”t marry him.”
”Of course you can. He”s perfect, and if he”s willing to forgive this mess we might even convince a few people to attend the ceremony to see it.”
The image those words conveyed sent a shudder through me. ”No.”
”No? What exactly are you refusing, Josephine? No, you don”t want the perfect life I”ve helped you arrange? No, you don”t want your daddy and I to have the satisfaction of knowing you”ll be well taken care of? No, you don”t want to give your friends and relatives the pleasure of watching you marry a man who is ideal?”
”No, I am not going to marry Evan.”
Mama blew out a breath as if I was just a child having a tantrum that would soon pass.
”I mean it, Mama. I”m really sorry, but?—”
”Just come back home. We”ll talk here.”
”I think I might not come back right away.” I hadn”t discussed this with John, but I could find somewhere else to stay if I had to. I couldn”t go back.
”Don”t be ridiculous. There”s nothing for you there... where even are you?”
”Virginia.”
”Why in the world are you in Virginia? Where are you sleeping?”
”With John.”
Mama”s sharp inhale confirmed that did not come out quite right.
”I mean, at John”s house. Not with John,” I amended my statement as quickly as I could.
”Who is John?” Mama sounded scandalized as she hissed this question.
”You remember him. From school. John Samuels.”
”The skinny little boy from the flats?” The outskirts of Peach Tree Grove were called ”the flats,” and to anyone who lived in the town proper, it was like saying ”the slums.”
Still, that was how she thought of John Samuels because his life growing up had been very different from mine. ”Yes. Only, he”s grown up too now.”
”Well you can”t stay with him, that”ll certainly cause a scandal, as if your fleeing your own wedding wasn”t enough. You”ll come back immediately, and we”ll get to work rebooking the caterer. I suspect I can negotiate a discount of some kind, though we may have to accept a Friday evening or a Sunday affair. I”m sure Saturdays are booked through the next year.” The idea of rebooking my wedding date sounded like it exhausted my mother.
It exhausted me, but having yet another conversation where the person on the other end did not seem to think I had any idea what I was doing with my own life had lit a little fire inside me that was beginning to grow.
”Mama. You”re not listening to me. I”m not coming back. Not right now. And I”m not marrying Evan.”
”Don”t be?—”
”I am not being ridiculous. I”m being an adult. I am taking responsibility for my own life, and I will not marry someone I don”t love. I need some time to figure out who I really am and what I want for my life. But being Mrs. Evan Stratton in Peach Tree Grove isn”t it.”
”Josephine.” Mama”s voice was low, filled with menace. ”Do you have any idea what you”re saying?”
”I do. I”m saying I need to be in charge of my own life. I appreciate all you and Daddy have done for me, and I”m very sorry for the way things turned out with the wedding?—”
”Have you any idea the expense your father went to?”
”I know, and?—”
”You can stay there,” Mama said, her voice never losing that glinting, devastating edge. ”But you will not be enjoying another dime of your father”s assistance. I”ll ensure your credit card is closed immediately.”
I”d known it would happen, but it would make things a bit harder. ”I understand.”
Perhaps Mama had thought the threat of being cut off would bring me back, because this seemed to surprise her.
”No money. No support from us,” she explained.
”That”s only fair. Thank you for understanding, Mama. I”ll call again soon. I love you.” I ended the call before I had to hear again what a disappointment I was, my head falling into my arms on John”s kitchen table. For a few moments, I let myself cry, the misery at having just let my family down and gotten myself cut off rolling through me and washing out with my tears. When I raised my head again to find the cat sitting on the other end of the table watching me with that assessing green stare, I felt lighter. Renewed.
I had nothing. But it was better somehow than all the heavy things I”d been saddled with back at home.
When I stood up and tucked my phone into my jeans pocket I felt a little bit unmoored, like my life had suddenly been detached from all its protective bindings and I was floating freely for the first time. It was surprising how easy it had been to sort through the devastation I”d wrought. For some reason I”d expected to be on the phone for hours, to have my soul pulled free of my body and run through a paper shredder, and to be left with unidentifiable bits of myself requiring reassembly. But I didn”t feel disassembled at all. I felt new.
But being suddenly new and disconnected was frightening too. Where was I supposed to go from here? I tried to pull at some long-neglected threads of determination within me, but I couldn”t seem to grasp them. It had been a long time since I”d needed to rely on myself—was I even capable of it now?
I stepped out into the warmth of the backyard and let my mind work through some options. I could go home. But no, that was not a real option. I’d walk right back into the cage I’d just escaped from. Could I go back to Alabama and just be clear that I was going to be a single girl, making my own way? It would be awfully difficult to be that close to home and not get lured back in—or hurt, if my family decided to keep me at arm’s length. So then, somewhere else. For now, here, I guessed. If John would have me for a bit. But I’d need a real plan.
I was exploring the back yard and trying to keep a brave face on when I heard John”s truck pulling into the garage, and I waited just outside, eager to tell him how much better things already seemed—maybe I could convince myself while I was at it. Only, when he came through the glass door to join me on the patio, his face suggested we”d be having a different conversation altogether.