I gratefully took the water as she put an arm around my back, rubbing my arm soothingly. “Fine ... must be something I ate,” I croaked, swallowing and squeezing my eyes shut.
“Honey, are you pregnant?” she whispered, concern lacing her words.
“God, no!” I was about to make some quip about an immaculate conception, but bit my tongue, as I no longer qualified for that status. “Not me.” Not me, anyway.
A fresh wave of anguish lurched through my belly, leaving me breathless. “Shit. I need to get home.”
I eyed the bucket of water. At least I could clean up this mess. Brenda stayed my arm. “I’ll take care of it honey, you get on home. I’ll take your shift tonight.”
I nodded, grateful, and climbed back in the truck, making the last few minutes of the trip in a daze.
At home, I wandered through my empty house before heading to my room. I tried lying down, but just as I turned to curl onto my side, the smell of Jack wafted from a pillow.
Oh, God.
For a moment, I lay motionless. Then I buried my face in the pillow and inhaled deeply before hurling it across the room. The crash of upended pictures and trinkets and the sound of breaking glass was loud in the silence.
* * *
The thing I remembered most about the night my parents died was the terrible silence. We hadn’t needed to go to the hospital, there was no one to visit. Mrs. Weaton had come over while Nana left to identify the bodies. No one spoke, and no one said I should go back to bed and get some sleep. I mean who could do that anyway? The quiet in the house, as one would expect in the middle of the night, was that night, heavy and deafening.
Eventually, at about four in the morning or so, without saying a word to Joey or Mrs. Weaton, I walked up to my parents’ bedroom, crawled under the floral quilt on my mom’s side, and slowly breathed her scent in and out.
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, Joey was asleep in the bed next to me on dad’s side, and Nana was sitting in the chair by the window.
She smiled at me sadly.
To say there was a gaping hole inside me where my heart had been savagely and painfully ripped out was an understatement. It was a crushing and physically painful emptiness that gave way to a sense of sheer panic as I realized I couldn’t smell my mother anymore.
I sat up gulping for a fresh breath, and then threw my face back to her pillow, trying to catch the scent again. I tried this several times with increasing hysteria.
Joey woke and tried to hold me and I lashed out, pushing him away, realizing the awful broken howl I could hear was coming from me.
Eventually, both Nana and Joey had me, and we were all hugging and crying and rocking.
I slept in my parent’s bed for the whole summer and didn’t speak to Nana for eight days when she finally washed the sheets a few weeks later.
* * *
I stood up and walked past the mess I had just created in my bedroom and headed up to the attic where I found my place to curl up again.
I came out of a deep and dreamless sleep to Jazz sitting next to me on the floor.
She reached out a hand and smoothed my hair back as I opened my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I whispered.
“Jack called the shop and told me Audrey was here and that I needed to check on you. What happened? I’m thinking the worst here, but he wouldn’t say anything else.”
“It’s the worst,” I confirmed tonelessly. “He’s not leaving her.”
I let out a breath and shifted onto my back.
“Oh, God, Keri Ann. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I mean, seriously, how could I have imagined this would work out any differently? I should have stayed far, far away. Why would a movie star want to be with a small-town girl like me? Why would a movie star with a gorgeous girlfriend leave her for a girl like me? Why would—”
“Stop it!” Jazz interrupted, looking pained. “Just stop it!”
“Why should I?” I yelled back. “It’s fucking true! And this has nothing to do with my self esteem and everything to do with how fucking blind I was.” I sat up. “My point is not about not being good enough for him, it’s that I was too stupid to see the signs. He told me! He freaking told me it wasn’t over with Audrey! I chose to believe otherwise. No one but me. Anyone who gets into bed with an unavailable man should expect this. Why would this be any different? And now that she’s pregnant? Well, that just accelerated the inevitable, didn’t it? I should be fucking grateful this happened now before I became some sleazy tabloid byline.”
Jazz’s face turned pale. “She’s pregnant?”
I laughed hysterically. “Yes! Isn’t that great?”
“Did he know?” she asked, incredulously.
“No. But that’s not the point, is it?”
“Well, it changes things a little.”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re missing the point, Jazz. Regardless of whether he knew, he was cheating on her. With me. And I chose to ignore it. And apparently, it wasn’t the first time. They may actually deserve each other. I went against every principle I thought I had. Seduced by a six-pack and a dimple and an entire personality of honor that was based on a fictitious character.” I was yelling again, and to my horror, crying at the same time.
I thought back to Jack sharing his painful past with me, and for a moment, doubted myself until I firmly shut that thought back inside my head. I also again remembered past stories of Jack Eversea’s exploits in nightclubs with fast girls. Back when Jazz first became a huge fan and would talk about him the way only a sixteen-year-old with a massive crush can, he was endlessly linked with bevies of beautiful women, leaving a trail of broken hearts.
The conversation I’d overheard on the phone in my kitchen, where his agent had all but assumed he was messing around with someone on the side, should have been the biggest clue.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jazz said again.
“Stop saying that, Jazz, it’s not your fault.”
“But it is. I encouraged you, I even told you I thought he cared for you. This is totally my fault.” She winced. “I was living vicariously through you, wanting you to do what I would have done. It was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”
“I keep telling you all, I’m a big girl. It was my choice, Jazz. Mine. And the worst part is that he was so cautious ... so hesitant ... at every moment. It was me who pushed, me who closed every gap. It was me.”
I pressed my finger hard to my chest.
“It was me,” I finished quietly and firmly.
The fault was all mine. He couldn’t have played it better, really.
It was the perfect hustle.
T H I R T Y – O N E
If I’d thought Jack might come and find me, to either apologize or explain himself, I was mistaken.
Every day that went by with no contact from him stretched my nerves tighter and tighter. Somehow, I made it through the next week trying to block the entire episode out of my mind. I was a little numb, which made it easier, but not effortless. I tried hard not to think about whether Jack was still in Butler Cove. I knew if I even let myself start, it would all come pouring out.
Jazz checked on me constantly, and stayed over any chance she could, leaving early to get to work or class. I kept telling her I was fine, just annoyed, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. I had overheard her talking to Joey on the phone one night in hushed whispers. I didn’t bother answering when he called me. I knew he knew, and I didn’t feel like talking about it.
“Honey, are you pregnant?” she whispered, concern lacing her words.
“God, no!” I was about to make some quip about an immaculate conception, but bit my tongue, as I no longer qualified for that status. “Not me.” Not me, anyway.
A fresh wave of anguish lurched through my belly, leaving me breathless. “Shit. I need to get home.”
I eyed the bucket of water. At least I could clean up this mess. Brenda stayed my arm. “I’ll take care of it honey, you get on home. I’ll take your shift tonight.”
I nodded, grateful, and climbed back in the truck, making the last few minutes of the trip in a daze.
At home, I wandered through my empty house before heading to my room. I tried lying down, but just as I turned to curl onto my side, the smell of Jack wafted from a pillow.
Oh, God.
For a moment, I lay motionless. Then I buried my face in the pillow and inhaled deeply before hurling it across the room. The crash of upended pictures and trinkets and the sound of breaking glass was loud in the silence.
* * *
The thing I remembered most about the night my parents died was the terrible silence. We hadn’t needed to go to the hospital, there was no one to visit. Mrs. Weaton had come over while Nana left to identify the bodies. No one spoke, and no one said I should go back to bed and get some sleep. I mean who could do that anyway? The quiet in the house, as one would expect in the middle of the night, was that night, heavy and deafening.
Eventually, at about four in the morning or so, without saying a word to Joey or Mrs. Weaton, I walked up to my parents’ bedroom, crawled under the floral quilt on my mom’s side, and slowly breathed her scent in and out.
I must have fallen asleep because when I woke up, Joey was asleep in the bed next to me on dad’s side, and Nana was sitting in the chair by the window.
She smiled at me sadly.
To say there was a gaping hole inside me where my heart had been savagely and painfully ripped out was an understatement. It was a crushing and physically painful emptiness that gave way to a sense of sheer panic as I realized I couldn’t smell my mother anymore.
I sat up gulping for a fresh breath, and then threw my face back to her pillow, trying to catch the scent again. I tried this several times with increasing hysteria.
Joey woke and tried to hold me and I lashed out, pushing him away, realizing the awful broken howl I could hear was coming from me.
Eventually, both Nana and Joey had me, and we were all hugging and crying and rocking.
I slept in my parent’s bed for the whole summer and didn’t speak to Nana for eight days when she finally washed the sheets a few weeks later.
* * *
I stood up and walked past the mess I had just created in my bedroom and headed up to the attic where I found my place to curl up again.
I came out of a deep and dreamless sleep to Jazz sitting next to me on the floor.
She reached out a hand and smoothed my hair back as I opened my eyes. “I’m sorry.”
“What for?” I whispered.
“Jack called the shop and told me Audrey was here and that I needed to check on you. What happened? I’m thinking the worst here, but he wouldn’t say anything else.”
“It’s the worst,” I confirmed tonelessly. “He’s not leaving her.”
I let out a breath and shifted onto my back.
“Oh, God, Keri Ann. I am so sorry.”
“Don’t be. It’s not your fault. I mean, seriously, how could I have imagined this would work out any differently? I should have stayed far, far away. Why would a movie star want to be with a small-town girl like me? Why would a movie star with a gorgeous girlfriend leave her for a girl like me? Why would—”
“Stop it!” Jazz interrupted, looking pained. “Just stop it!”
“Why should I?” I yelled back. “It’s fucking true! And this has nothing to do with my self esteem and everything to do with how fucking blind I was.” I sat up. “My point is not about not being good enough for him, it’s that I was too stupid to see the signs. He told me! He freaking told me it wasn’t over with Audrey! I chose to believe otherwise. No one but me. Anyone who gets into bed with an unavailable man should expect this. Why would this be any different? And now that she’s pregnant? Well, that just accelerated the inevitable, didn’t it? I should be fucking grateful this happened now before I became some sleazy tabloid byline.”
Jazz’s face turned pale. “She’s pregnant?”
I laughed hysterically. “Yes! Isn’t that great?”
“Did he know?” she asked, incredulously.
“No. But that’s not the point, is it?”
“Well, it changes things a little.”
“No, it doesn’t. You’re missing the point, Jazz. Regardless of whether he knew, he was cheating on her. With me. And I chose to ignore it. And apparently, it wasn’t the first time. They may actually deserve each other. I went against every principle I thought I had. Seduced by a six-pack and a dimple and an entire personality of honor that was based on a fictitious character.” I was yelling again, and to my horror, crying at the same time.
I thought back to Jack sharing his painful past with me, and for a moment, doubted myself until I firmly shut that thought back inside my head. I also again remembered past stories of Jack Eversea’s exploits in nightclubs with fast girls. Back when Jazz first became a huge fan and would talk about him the way only a sixteen-year-old with a massive crush can, he was endlessly linked with bevies of beautiful women, leaving a trail of broken hearts.
The conversation I’d overheard on the phone in my kitchen, where his agent had all but assumed he was messing around with someone on the side, should have been the biggest clue.
“I’m so, so sorry,” Jazz said again.
“Stop saying that, Jazz, it’s not your fault.”
“But it is. I encouraged you, I even told you I thought he cared for you. This is totally my fault.” She winced. “I was living vicariously through you, wanting you to do what I would have done. It was unfair to you. I’m so sorry.”
“I keep telling you all, I’m a big girl. It was my choice, Jazz. Mine. And the worst part is that he was so cautious ... so hesitant ... at every moment. It was me who pushed, me who closed every gap. It was me.”
I pressed my finger hard to my chest.
“It was me,” I finished quietly and firmly.
The fault was all mine. He couldn’t have played it better, really.
It was the perfect hustle.
T H I R T Y – O N E
If I’d thought Jack might come and find me, to either apologize or explain himself, I was mistaken.
Every day that went by with no contact from him stretched my nerves tighter and tighter. Somehow, I made it through the next week trying to block the entire episode out of my mind. I was a little numb, which made it easier, but not effortless. I tried hard not to think about whether Jack was still in Butler Cove. I knew if I even let myself start, it would all come pouring out.
Jazz checked on me constantly, and stayed over any chance she could, leaving early to get to work or class. I kept telling her I was fine, just annoyed, but I could tell she wasn’t buying it. I had overheard her talking to Joey on the phone one night in hushed whispers. I didn’t bother answering when he called me. I knew he knew, and I didn’t feel like talking about it.
