by Raquel Belle
I can’t ask her these questions, so I plague myself with them. She might still be at the airport, so maybe that’s why she isn’t picking up. But that means she’s boarding her flight…and in that case, it’s already too late.
But this can’t be it. It can’t be.
I take angry steps to the refrigerator and snatch a beer from it, although...I think I’ll need something stronger than a beer. I’m closing the door when my phone starts ringing. I slap the can on to the counter and dash towards the device. I almost rip the cushions apart getting to the phone. But it’s not her. It’s Trisha, and I toss the phone back and walk back to retrieve the beer.
I lean against the kitchen counter, drinking the cool drink that I can barely taste. What if she doesn’t answer me, ever? Is that what she’s doing? Cutting me off?
The first thought that occurs to me is that I need to get her address. I told her I’d follow her anywhere…
The phone rings again, and I tighten my fists. “Damn it, Trisha!” I yell, but I walk over just to make sure it’s her. It is, but I’m not in the mood to talk to her, or to see her. I need a little time to myself.
It’s on the third time ringing that I toss the beer can into the bin and grab the phone. “Yes?” I say gruffly into the phone. I don’t know what she wants, but maybe it’s important.
“Can you come over for a minute?”
I think to say no. It doesn’t sound as if it’s urgent, but Jazz isn’t answering her phone, and I should probably stay busy to get my mind off of the fact that she just left town without seeing me. Without talking to me. All I get is a piece of fucking paper. I’ll probably go nuts and do something I’ll regret if I just stay in my own head.
“Fine.” I end the call and grab the keys off the entrance table and walk back to the truck. I try calling her again while in the truck and when I’m outside Trisha’s gate. Still no answer. “Damn it, Jazz!” I slam my hands against the wheel and I accidentally hit the horn…Trisha’s door opens. She sticks her head out, then comes out onto the porch, staring at me like I’m crazy.
I get out and walk up to her. She’s searching me with curious eyes. “What’s wrong?”
“You asked me to come over. What do you want?” I don’t want to talk to her about Jazz. What’s there to say anyway? I’ve told her how I feel about Jazz, and she hasn’t been happy about it.
“Come on in,” she says and steps back inside.
I follow after her, but I don’t plan on staying. I sit on the stool close to the door and fold my arms across my chest.
She glances back at me. “Why are you sitting there?”
I’m getting frustrated, and I know it’s not her fault, but I’m beginning to think it’s a mistake that I’ve even come over. “Why did you ask me to come over, Trisha?”
“Have you seen Jazz?” She asks, and walks gingerly back to me.
I narrow my eyes. “Why would you ask that?”
“Because…” she says, and then stomps her foot. “Have you seen her?”
She looks worried, but I’m not sure why. “No, I haven’t seen her,” I say.
“Oh,” is all she says.
This is ridiculous. It’s clear she doesn’t need anything. I stand to go. “And just in case you’re wondering, she’s left town.”
“What?” She says, but the look of relief that washes over her face is unmistakable. “She left?”
I turn squarely to face her. “Why don’t you look surprised by that? Is that what you wanted?” I haven’t been blind to the fact that she isn’t a fan of mine and Jazz’s relationship, or whatever the hell Jazz thinks we were doing over the last three weeks.
“Maybe it’s for the best, Trip,” she says, softly, and reaches out to touch my hand.
I step back. “For the best? How could her leaving be for the best? The best for who?”
“For us! Trip, it’s not like you didn’t know she’d be leaving. You knew she’d only be here for the holidays,” Trisha says, and gesticulates in a nonchalant way.
I know her too well. She knows something, so I bear down on her. “Trisha, did you know about this? Did she tell you she was leaving?”
“No. But I’m glad she’s gone.”
Her answer comes as a slap across my face, and I wince. “Glad? Why? Aren’t you friends?”
“Not really,” she says and leans against the counter beside the sink. She pushes back the hooded sweater she’s wearing, and braces against the edge with both hands. “Look, Trip, she was no good for you. And she knew it. She didn’t argue…”
I see the panicked look on her face. “Trisha, what did you do? Please tell me you had nothing to do with this?”
“What did you want me to do, Trip? Huh? Just watch you walk out on us?”
I can hardly believe what I’m hearing. “Us? What do you mean by us? You went to see Jazz?!” I bark, and then try to contain the anger swelling inside me.
“I had to! She had no right coming between us, so I told her she needed to go and leave us alone.”
If I had laser eyes, she’d be dust right now—that’s how much rage I’m feeling towards her at this moment. “You had no right to do that!”
“She knows you belong here. I told her, and she understands.”
This isn’t happening. Now, everything makes sense—why Jazz left early, and without seeing me first. It’s not like her. She must be devastated. “This shouldn’t have happened. No wonder I’ve been calling her and she won’t answer.”
“Trip,” Trisha says, “I did it for us, so that we can be together…you, me, and the boys. Isn’t that what you wanted?”
I’m looking at her now like she’s transformed into some kind of a beast. It’s almost like I never knew her at all. “I… What? No! That’s not what I wanted. How did you even…what?” I rake my hand through my hair and turn about the room, and she follows behind me with her whining and illogical flow of conversation.
“Remember that night, a couple of months ago, when we were sitting on the sofa? Huh? We were drinking and having such a good time, and for a brief moment, the way you looked at me—I knew you wanted me too.”
“Trisha, you were drunk, and so was I. Why do you think it never happened again?
Her mouth opens, but no sound comes out, and then she gulps and hugs herself. “Trip, you can’t tell me that in all this time that you’ve been coming here that you never once thought about us? We’d be so good together, and you’re great with the boys, and they love you…”
I grip her shoulders again to stop the rambling. “Trisha, stop! I know how hard things have been for you, and I’ve tried to help you in any and every way that I can. But I can’t be that man for you.”
“Why? What’s wrong with me?” She says, as her voice cracks, and she looks away.
“Look at me,” I say forcefully and gently shake her. “Nothing’s wrong with you. You’re a great person, you’re a good mother and…and I think the world of you…but you’re my best friend’s girl.”
“And where is he? Huh? Are you going to stay loyal to a dead man?”
I know she’s angry and hurting, so I ignore the emotional ranting. “Derrick was my best friend, and I told myself I’d do for him what he couldn’t do for himself anymore. I came back to Willow Creek not knowing what I wanted to do with myself. But then I saw you, and I knew I had to help.”
“Well, stay and help then. We need you. I need you!”
“I can’t Trisha. I don’t feel that way about you,” I say, sympathetically, as a tear rolls down her cheek. “Derrick was the love of your life, and I’m sorry that he passed away, God knows I am, but it can’t be me now…in his shoes.”
“Why not?” she says, and clings to my arm. “What would be so wrong about that?”
“Because I’m in love with someone else,” I say, softly. “Jazz is the love of my life, and I don’t want to lose her. Not again. And I promise you, I’ll always be there for you, but that’s all I can be, nothing more.”
&nb
sp; “No,” she says, sobbing as she pulls back. “Why is everything being taken away from me?”
It tugs at my heart to see her so sad, but there’s nothing I can do beyond what I’ve already promised her. Her sobs rock her body, and I hug her and pull her to me. She clings to my shirt tail, and I hold her for a couple of minutes.
“I’m sorry, but I have to go,” I say.
She steps back, but she refuses to look at me. She nods her head and looks away. “Okay.”
I watch her for a couple of minutes, and then I turn and walk back towards the door. I stop when I touch the handle, and I hear her whimpering behind me. “I’m sorry if I led you on in some way. It was never my intention.”
And then…I leave.
She’s hurt, but so am I. She’s acted selfishly, and this has probably cost me my chance with Jazz. I try calling her again, as I head for the truck, but the result is the same. I’ll give it a couple more hours before I try again, but I’m miserable as I get back home.
I decide that I’m not going to wait for Jazz. Not again. I drive to her parents’ house. Mrs. Taylor is surprised to see me.
“Trip? What are you doing here?”
“I just wondered if you’d give me Jazz’s home address.”
Mrs. Taylor’s face lights up. “You don’t have to ask me twice.” She hurries back inside the house, while I stand on the porch and wait. “Here you go, sweetheart.” She hands me a piece of paper. On it is scribbled, not just her home address in New York, but also where she works and the phone number there too.
I smile at her. “Thank you.”
She takes my hand. “Now go knock some sense into that thick skull of hers.”
I laugh. “I’ll try.”
And I feel a whole lot better, as I walk down the steps, and just as anxious and excited. And Jazz won’t even see it coming.
Chapter Twenty-Five
Jasmine
My eyes are swollen, and puffy, and red, and my nose itches. I’m sniffling, and going through boxes of Kleenex, but nothing’s making it any better.
I’m curled up on the sofa, and I’m glad I don’t have to go back to work for another two days. Which means I have two days’ worth of crying before I have to get back to normal.
The doorbell rings, and I’m almost sorry I’d already told the girls about my messed-up situation, because that’s them.
“Open up, Jazz!” Cara calls, as she pounds on the door.
I groan. “Ugh! Okay, okay…” I haul myself off the sofa. I wrap my robe tighter around me and walk to the door. I pull it back and make a sweeping gesture, inviting them all inside.
“What’s with the hair?” Grace says, and grabs a bit of it.
I tug it back. “Leave me alone.”
“If you wanted us to leave you alone, you wouldn’t have invited us over,” Beth says.
“My mistake,” I say and close the door after them. “What’s in the bag?” I ask Cara when I see her placing the tote on the kitchen counter.
She pulls a bottle of wine out of the bag and grins. “Your favorite red. You look like you need it.”
“I need more than a glass of wine,” I say, and walk back to the sofa to fall on to it like a felled tree.
Beth and Grace come over to join me. Beth picks my feet up, sits and then replaces my legs on her lap. Grace cradles my head in her lap. I feel smothered already, and it only makes me want to cry more.
“What happened sweetie?” Beth says. “We just got a little bit of information from Cara… Something about your old flame and some Trisha person.”
I sniffle again when I think about that name. She’s a sore spot for me—my heart constricts in my chest again. “I don’t want to talk about it yet.”
Grace smooths my hair, and I wipe my tender nose. “That’s not an option, because we’re not leaving until you do.”
I know it’s true. They’re stubborn, but I also really don’t want to talk about it. I just know that when I do, I’m going to break down again.
“Fine,” I say, and blow my nose as I attempt to sit up. I can’t even believe myself right now—crying and acting the fool over a man. This is not the image I’ve portrayed for the last ten years—not before I saw Trip again at least.
“Okay, from the beginning,” Cara says, and pulls up a chair so she’s right in my face while Beth and Grace flank me.
I take a deep breath. “Let me just start with…this was my first love. Michael Tucker the third, or as we call him, Trip. I thought, back then, that we would last forever…but it’s a tradition in his family to serve in the Army. Michael Tucker senior did it, and his father—”
“Yeah, yeah, skip that part. We already get that,” Grace interrupts with an impatient tone.
Cara slaps her on the hand. “Let her speak, will you?”
I smile a little. “She’s right. I’ll skip all of that and fast forward to me running into him when I got back. Mom made sure I did, but it’s a small town—he’d have heard I was back anyway.”
“Go on…” Grace is nudging me in the side like she just can’t wait for the rest. Cara shoots her a deadly glance again. As of now, I’m the only one among us without a significant other, and knowing that makes me feel even worse.
“Okay, so we, you know, hooked up a couple of times…”
“What do you mean, hooked up?” Beth asks.
“He’d come by all the time to take me places, down memory lane mostly, and we…” I pause and sigh. “… We made love a couple of times.”
Grace laughs. “Whoa! That’s our girl.”
“But that’s what made it worse, Grace. Maybe if I hadn’t gotten so close to him, none of this would have happened.”
“None of what?” Beth says. “And where does this Trisha person come in?”
“She comes in where women like her are usually not wanted,” Cara says and rolls her eyes. “And to think I told you to take Christmas dinner over to her.”
“What?” Beth fires off at her.
“I didn’t know that girl was trying to get her hooks into him.”
“Any idiot would know that,” Grace says offensively and shakes her head.
“Right. Any idiot should…” I say, softly.
“Honey…I didn’t mean it like that,” Grace says.
“But you’re right. Marcy told me, and I didn’t want to believe it because she wasn’t acting like that at the time. But then I noticed that every time I was with him, she always seemed to want something.”
“Seriously? That bitch!” Grace says, shaking her head. “Some women…”
“Cara, on Christmas day, I don’t even think she was sick. And, one day, he was taking me to Nashville, and he told her he was on a date with me, and she still asked him to pick up groceries because her twins were being a nuisance.”
“But he could have told her no,” Beth says.
I turn to her. “You don’t know Trip. He’s like…the world’s nicest man. Plus, he feels a sense of obligation to her because she was married to his best friend, Derrick, and he died on their last tour…”
“So, he feels like he needs to help out,” Grace says, and sighs. “I understand that, but that’s no reason for her to sink her claws into him and take advantage of the situation.”
“So, what did he say when you told him all of this?” Cara asks.
“I didn’t say all of that to him,” I say. “I mentioned to him a couple of times that I think she has feelings for him, and that there’s something going on, but he always dismissed it.”
“There you go,” Cara says with a wave of her hand, and she sits upright. “What’s the problem then?”
“I don’t know,” I tell them and stand to plead my case like I’m trying to convince a panel of jurors. “Isn’t it selfish of me to take the only help she has?”
“No!” They all say at once.
“Why should you feel guilty about wanting the man you love…a man who clearly loves you too?” Beth says, and she narrows her eyes, as she tr
ies to understand my confusion.
“Girl, if you don’t call that man…” Grace says and points at me. “I refuse to spend all of this year, and maybe a few more, listening to you whine about what a fool you’ve been.”
“Agreed,” Beth says and folds her hands. “Call him.”
“I can’t,” I say, and turn around. “He’s a small-town guy. He wouldn’t even like it here.”
“All I’m hearing are excuses,” Cara says in an irritated tone. “Do you love him or not?”
“I do,” I say. “But it’s complicated.”
“Not from where I’m sitting,” she says.
“I don’t want him to come here, abandon his moral obligations and then wind up resenting me later,” I say.
Grace stands in support. “Oh, sweetie…” She comes over to hug me as tears roll down my cheek again. I hate all of this damned crying, but I can’t seem to make it stop. “He’s not going to resent you. If anything, you’ve made the poor man miserable wondering why you ran off. He won’t even be with her anyway, so that just leaves the two of you miserable for eternity.”
Beth smiles. “And by extension, us.”
I laugh. “I’m happy for all of you. Really, I am.”
“We know that, silly,” Beth says, and stands too. “We just want you to be happy, okay?”
“Just give me a couple of days, and I’ll be fine,” I tell them. “This isn’t my first rodeo with Trip. Last time, I thought I’d die, and I didn’t.”
“Call him!” Cara says.
“Maybe,” I say, just so they’ll get off my back. But I know I’m not going to. Trip will never leave Willow Creek, and I’m not going back. That’s where his life and his business is, and I’ll never ask him to give up anything for me.
Just like I know I’ll never give up what I love, or who I am, for him. I’ll be fine when I’ve purged myself of all the negative emotions, and like before, he’ll become a distant memory.
“Okay, can we just drink this wine?” I say, and pull away from them. I don’t wait for their answer. I simply walk over, take a glass from the cupboard and pour one. I’m already half way through the first glass when they join me.
