Twenty-eight
Sarah
One day ago
Ialmost didn’t hear the knock on my door over the music blaring in my kitchen. Scrambling for my phone, I hit pause and listened.
Knock. Knock. Knock.
Pushing off the living room floor, I adjusted my shirt and pulled a few strips of boxing tape off my scrub bottoms. It was getting close to seven o’clock, but I still hadn’t changed out of my work clothes.
Stepping around a few big boxes, I hurried to the front door and checked the peephole to see Jackie Thompson standing there with a take out bag of Chinese food looped around her arm.
I threw open the door. “Jackie! Hey! What are you doing here?”
Jackie was the shortest Thompson, but she packed the biggest punch. So different from Peter’s other sisters, she possessed no soft femininity whatsoever. Her nearly black hair was cropped above her shoulders. She was angles and lines and smoke. And the vibe reflected her personality like a mirror.
But, she did look different today.
I couldn’t put my finger on why.
She stepped inside the house and slung her free hand around my back. “Well, I’m sort of here because you won’t answer your phone and everyone is worried about you and I was nominated to come check on you. But, mainly, I’m nosy as hell and need the scoop.”
Good to know that the grapevine was alive and well.
I tried to smile as she squeezed my torso and pulled me toward the kitchen.
It was true. I hadn’t consciously meant to avoid the Thompsons, but my heart had been rubbed like a heel inside a wet tennis shoe.
Every feeling burned. I just left their brother and didn’t feel like rehashing my reasons over the phone.
Plus, Peter should be the one to tell his family that he didn’t want to be a husband anymore, not me.
Bea and Hollie had pursued a conversation with me for a couple days until I texted them both and said I would let them know when I was ready to talk about what happened.
I didn’t want to be talked out of separating from Peter.
I didn’t want anyone to try to tell me I was wrong for leaving him in Texas.
She held up the bag. “You hungry?”
Saliva pooled in my mouth. A gnawing pain in my belly bolted to the forefront of my mind. When was the last time I had a meal that wasn’t a protein bar? “Starving.”
“Good. Me too. Those grueling days in the office really work up the appetite.” She slung the bag onto my kitchen counter as her eyes flitted to the dining room, where boxes were stacked across the table. “Wow.” She gave a low whistle. “What’s in all the boxes?”
“Peter’s stuff.”
She turned to scrutinize my face. But she only said, “Damn. He must’ve really screwed up.”
“Yeah, he did.”
“Well, let me fuel up for this.” She turned toward my kitchen cabinets and rummaged around until she found a few plates.
I popped open the take-out boxes, surprised by the sudden emotions clogging my throat and clouding my eyes.
The three days I’d been home, I hadn’t fallen apart.
I hadn’t even really cried. I just felt… numb.
After suffering through Peter’s constant rejections, maybe I was callused. I had been able to turn off the noise, hush the pain, and get to work. When I wasn’t giving massages or driving to clients’ houses, I was packing boxes or scrubbing every inch of my home.
I sniffed and forced the tears back where they belonged, grabbing some spoons to dish out the fried rice and chicken. As I served myself, Jackie said, “Take more. You look thin.”
Another person would’ve politely asked if I’d been taking care of myself, but of course, Jackie went straight for the jugular. Mincing words didn’t exist with her.
I rolled my eyes. “I’m not thin.”
“Eat some rangoon—that stuff goes straight to the hips.”
A laugh escaped my lips as she dropped a couple crab rangoons on my plate.
“Have you been eating?”
I waved her concern away. “I promise, I’m eating. I’m just busy and running a lot. That’s all.”
She hummed like she didn’t believe me. “Well, if you need some break up ice cream recommendations, I’m your girl. My boys, Ben and Jerry, can be a real comfort in times like these.”
Break up grossly trivialized what was happening between Peter and I, but I didn’t bother correcting her. “Thanks.”
The two of us moved into the living room where our love seat sat opposite our small couch. Jackie propped her feet up on the coffee table. “So talk to me. First of all, how is life without Peter?”
Her phraseology made it sound like he died. “Um, a relief, honestly.”
She stopped mid-chew. “Really?”
“Yeah.” I shifted uncomfortably as I pushed my chopsticks into the mound of rice. “Really.”
“Can’t say I blame you for that. He hasn’t been the easiest person to be around recently.”
That was putting it lightly. Peter had been unbearable. For the first time in months I was able to exist without walking on egg shells. I said, “The time alone feels like a deep breath. I needed it. I’m doing good.”
But even as I said those words, something deep within cast doubt.
A deep breath? That wasn’t right. I hadn’t stopped long enough to breathe. I’d been go, go, go from the moment I cranked the ignition in the Meadowbrook driveway. But at least I wasn’t falling apart, eating ice cream, and blubbering, right?
I pushed my doubts away, convincing myself that the numbness I felt was a relief. I wasn’t feeling anything good or bad, so I could call that a win.
“Well, that’s good, I guess. So, fill me in. What exactly did he do?”
For a long time, I explained what happened at the ranch—why we went, how Peter responded, and his Saturday night shenanigans.
Jackie was outraged for me, and that felt exactly like I hoped it would—so validating.
I was glad it was Jackie who knocked on my door and not another, softer Thompson.
She wasn’t going to take Peter’s side just because he was blood.
After a while, I set my plate aside and leaned forward, filling her in about every little thing.
I told her how I’d tried to reach him and he kept pushing me away—literally and metaphorically.
I told her about the fact that Peter kept sneaking off to his parents’ house and how he couldn’t hold his job.
Some of it she already knew, but she soaked in my perspective like a sponge.
We sat on the couch for an hour and a half. When the leftover take-out had long grown cold, she finally asked, “Have you tried calling him?”
“Actually, he called me, but I blocked him.” When Peter couldn’t hold my hand but kissed another woman, he made his choice. “I’m exhausted and need some space.”
She nodded. “Good on you for having boundaries. He needs to wake up before it’s too late.”
I shook my head, figuring it was already too late, but I only said, “He won’t.”
“Well, we can hope.”
I shrugged.
Jackie glanced around the room. “You must be sad being here all by yourself.”
“Yeah, it’s quiet. I would work more, but my body can’t handle more than five massages a day.”
“Are you able to get out a little? To just relax and have some fun?”
“Not really.”
“Maybe you should. It might be good for you.”
“Yeah, maybe.” I only said it to placate her.
“You and Peter have always gone on big adventures together. You know, I asked him once—after I saw that cute picture of you guys bungee jumping—why you guys are always going random places and doing crazy stuff. And he said,” Jackie imitated Peter’s bass register. “‘Sarah moves with the wind.’”
I lightly protested the notion with a thoughtful huff.
“I don’t know about that. My family never took me to do anything as a kid, and I complained about it to Peter one day at school.
So he told me to make a list of all the things I wanted to do one day.
So I did, and he has helped me check them off. ”
“There you go!” She perked up, waving an open hand over the table as if the answer to my problems sat right between us. “Maybe you should do something on your list then. Something you could do all by yourself that would make you happy.”
The idea of doing something without Peter was…unheard of. From the moment the list materialized, Peter had been there, an intricate part of the process from beginning to end. But maybe that was a perfect reason to check off a few things.
“You know what?” I smirked at her. “I think you’re right. I’ll do that.”
“Do you by any chance have ‘ride a motorcycle’ on your list?”
I frowned, trying to remember. The list had evolved from hastily scribbled handwriting on the last piece of notebook paper in my binder to a Google Sheet, complete with links, notes, and a section titled pic or it didn’t happen.
Half the time, I couldn’t remember what all we had on the list. We added to it so liberally, the result was hundreds of entries. “I’m not sure. Why?”
She smirked. “Well, I finally pulled the trigger.”
I gasped. “Did you get a bike?”
She gave a slow nod. “Yep. And she’s a looker.”
“Is it here now?”
Jackie nodded, her bob brushing her cheeks. That was when I realized the difference in her. The leather everywhere—of course. She was wearing leather pants and a leather jacket with black boots. It leveled up her bad girl look to a whole new level. How had I not noticed before?
“Can I see it?”
“Uh, hell yeah, I’ve been waiting to show you.” She lifted herself out of her chair, leading me toward the garage with a little pep in her step. “It’s nothing crazy fancy. Just a Honda Rebel 500. But, it’s the perfect size for me, which is half the trouble I have with finding a bike.”
I slipped a hoodie over my matted ponytail and followed her into the driveway to see a black motorcycle leaning against a kickstand. Completely dark outside now, the street lights glistened off the new paint and metal. Jackie lifted her chest, proud of her purchase.
She told me some stuff about it that went over my head, but I didn’t have to understand bike lingo to see how much it meant to her.
Jackie felt like a black sheep in her family, but here she was—rocking it.
Being the most badass black sheep I’d ever met.
As long as I’d known her, she’d never stooped to fit a mold. It was always just Jackie.
“So, can I have a ride?”
Her eyes lit in the dark. “You want one?”
“Of course I do!”
She took her helmet off the seat and handed it to me.
“Oh, you only have one helmet?”
She wrinkled her nose and waved a hand. “It’s fine. I’ll ride without one this time.”
“You sure?”
“Positive.” She helped me push the helmet over my head and fastened the buckle under my chin.
Inside, I felt like an astronaut—my head heavy and wobbly.
Jackie directed me to sit on the bench behind her and hold on to her waist. A few minutes later, I giggled uncontrollably as Jackie weaved in and out of my neighborhood.
And I squealed when she pulled out onto the freeway.