by Adriana Peck
I throw up my hands, utterly finished with this conversation. “Fine by me. I don’t give a shit.”
I start to storm out of the factory, but the foreman calls after me: “Nobody gives a shit about your fake-ass wedding, either!”
I want to wheel around and jump him, but I know it’ll just land me in a bigger heap of trouble than I already am.
I keep my head on straight, pushing out the double-doors as I leave the factory for good.
◆◆◆
Fuck. Fucking fucking fuck. Why the hell did I just do that?
I sit behind the wheel of my truck, fuming angrily at myself. I’m still parked outside the factory, I need a while to collect myself before I even attempt to drive I’ve just gone and blown mine and Nancy’s future here in Twin Orchards. Nobody’s going to hire us after today, not after the fiasco involving our ‘engagement’. Not after she left her longtime job at Nora’s Café. Not after I fucked up my factory job in less than a week.
We aren’t going to be able to stay in this town any longer, or else we’re going to go broke and starve. And that’s a cold hard fact. I don’t think I’ll be able to find any sort of part-time gigs here in town, I don’t think that there’s any other physical labor jobs anywhere within fifty miles of here. I didn’t go to college, and I know Nancy just has an Associate’s Degree. We don’t have that many options laid out in front of us to begin with, and now we’ve just cut our last lifeline for a normal life here in town.
Fucking great.
I groan angrily at myself, but start up my engine and back out of the factory lot. I drive the long way back to town, taking as much time as I can to get my head back on straight. The trees morph into a blur around me as I speed down the road, driving the route I’ve been used to these past few days.
I have to face the facts.
I’m running out of money. That stack of cash from Uncle Sam is still tucked away in my glovebox, and I’ve just severed my only source of income. I’ve still got a couple of bucks leftover from Chance, I think, but that’s it.
Nancy doesn’t deserve to be the only one who works between the two of us. If anything, I should be the one supporting her. She’s done enough for me as is. It’s only fair that I carry her for a while, too.
I drive to the edge of town, reaching Main Street as I stop at a red light. One of the only stoplights here in town, I take the moment to pause and think about what we can do next.
And then I remember them.
The letters of congratulations sent to us. Most of those envelopes have money in them, or so Nancy told me. And money’s money. That’s a start.
I know it’s wrong, I know that Nancy and I agreed to send them all back. It’s the honorable thing to do, sure.
But it’s one option. One of the very few we have left.
Nancy and I could keep those gifts. Use them to start a new life, just like the original senders intended us to do. We still have two thirds of the gifts left, according to Nancy. There could be enough money in there to bail us out for a while. Enough to start fresh somewhere new.
It’s just one option.
But it might be the last one we’ve got.
The light turns green.
I flash back to attention and I take off down Main Street, heading off into the unknown.
Twenty-Seven
Nancy
I still can’t sleep after last night, to be perfectly frank. I’m imbued with energy, ready to face life with a more optimistic nature. Being with Jake helped me look at the world with a fresh set of eyes. I’m practically dancing on my tip toes as I shuffle into my kitchenette, making myself a fresh pot of coffee for the day. I’m not going to be able to go back to sleep anytime soon, and I feel the warm energy of the sun shining in through the balcony door as my heart flutters. I brought the two duffel bags of letters up from my car, keeping them both on my countertop for the time being. Jake and I can finish returning them when he gets back.
I could go on and on about last night. Perfect in every sense of the word. I’ve never felt closer to anybody, I’ve never wanted to be with somebody as much as I do him. It’s uncanny. I’m a little freaked out at how attached I’m feeling, but it’s there. Least I can do is acknowledge it.
I can’t wait for Jake to come back to me.
In the faintness of the morning I hear a car door slamming outside, and my heart race spikes. I wonder if it’s Jake. I probably just imagined it, I’ll be willing to bet that I’m just hearing things. As I hear footsteps outside I doubt to myself that my wish just came true, but there’s always hope—
There’s a knock at my door. My heart flutters.
I rush over, swinging open the door with a gleeful smile as Jake stands on my welcome mat.
But he’s not smiling. He looks distraught, like he’s just been given a death sentence. I hope I’m wrong, I hope I’m just not reading into things too deep.
“Jake? What’s wrong?”
He sighs heavily, and I know I’m not imagining things anymore. This can’t be good.
“I got fired, Nancy.”
I feel my stomach drop.
“What? Are you serious?”
He nods. “We should talk. Can I come in?”
My heart leaps into my throat. I don’t like the tone of his voice, but I don’t think we have any other choice right now. I step back, holding the door open for him as Jake trudges inside.
◆◆◆
I feel my world spinning as Jake sits down on my couch, his head hanging low as his hands wring about themselves madly. I grab a cup, pouring in some coffee as I bring it over to him. I can’t help it, I know how to play the therapist-slash-waitress roles in tandem perfectly.
“Just start over from the beginning,” I say cautiously as I sit down next to him. He takes the mug in his hands, holding it tight as if his life depended on it. He takes a sit, sitting up with newfound energy as he clears his throat.
“Okay. Really not much to it, but here goes. I showed up late. Foreman asks me why I’m late. He was snarky, I got a little snarky back.”
I pause, knowing we’ve struck the heart of the matter. “How snarky?”
Jake nods, raising his eyebrows. “Foreman was an asshole,” he says as he takes another drink.
“Not him. You.”
Jake turns, looks at me with a hint of betrayal in his eyes. I know I’ve probably just stepped over the line, taking his old supervisor’s side over his. But with Jake I have to know. I need to know the truth.
“I…probably went a little too far,” Jake admits. “I called him a fatass. Asked him how much we’d get paid to lift him out of bed.”
I gasp involuntarily, my hand reaching up to cover my mouth. “Jake? Why would you do that?”
“I was stressed. After rushing you back home, after hearing about the hell raised from the letters going back. I don’t know. Maybe I’m just losing my grip. Maybe I’m going crazy here.”
“Don’t say that Jake.” I do my best to comfort him, placing my hand gently on his forearm. But he just stares straight ahead, a determined look on his face.
“Nancy, I might be losing my grip, but things aren’t hopeless.”
I can’t help but smile at that. “You’re right. Things aren’t hopeless, Jake. Not when we put our heads together and think.”
He turns, facing me as a hesitant smile breaks out across his face. “I’m glad you feel that way.”
“Nothing would make me happier.”
We pause, sitting in the golden sunlight of the morning as Jake sips his coffee. I don’t have any idea what our next move is, I’m terrified to think about how we’re going to pay for rent a few months down the line. But I know Jake and I can figure it out. Like he said, things aren’t hopeless.
“Got any ideas in mind?” I ask, probing Jake for any possible hope.
He nods gravely, slowly. “Yeah, I got one. But I don’t think you’re gonna like it.”
I pause, considering his words. Jake glances over at my
counter, the duffel bags of letters still sitting there.
Then it hits me.
“No. Jake, no. We can’t do that. It’s wrong.”
“Why not?” he turns to face me, sets his empty coffee mug down on the floor next to him. “The town collectively sent us that money for a better future. There’s probably enough to keep us going for at least a few months. I’d say not starving to death is a great alternative to sending their money back honorably.”
“So you admit it’s the honorable thing to do, then,” I reply. “But you’re still suggesting the alternative. I thought they would’ve taught you better in the military.”
I can see Jake’s face turning red in frustration, but he calms himself, taking a deep breath as he stands up from the sofa and paces about in my living room.
“Nancy, we’re in trouble here. It’s not insane to admit it. We’re in need of assistance, and I don’t think I can collect welfare if I was fired for being a dick to my boss.”
“No, but it’d be insane to think that stealing is our only chance at living a normal life.”
“It’s not stealing!” Jake leans down, exasperated as the harshness of his tone cuts me deep. “Nancy, they gave it to us. Didn’t that bridal woman tell you that the people you returned the letters to were upset?”
I nod, conceding to his point. “Sure. They thought we didn’t want the letters.”
“But we do.”
“No, we don’t.”
“Why?”
I sigh. I know this was going to come up, and I send out a silent prayer that what I’m about to say won’t tank our hopes of ever being together.
“Because the engagement wasn’t real,” I say, bracing myself for the worst. “It wasn’t, Jake. We weren’t dating, we weren’t trying to start a real future together. From the start this whole thing was a scam, laid out in a hare-brained attempt to separate the people who we thought wronged us from their money. That’s it. No declaration of love, no real promises were made between us. Keeping that money would be playing into that lie.”
Jake nods, turning as he stares out my balcony window.
“Jake, don’t you think it’s the right thing to do? Return that money, come clean with everyone?”
He shakes his head. “It’ll ruin us, Nancy. Nobody in town’ll ever talk to us again. We won’t be able to find another job here, we’ll probably get kicked out onto the street. My parents’ll disown me, that’s for sure. I bet your landlord’ll come up with some small-town sad excuse as to why your rent’s gone up a thousand bucks after we admit to conning everyone out of their money. Nothing good can come of this, Nancy. The only hope we have is to take what’s left of the registry gifts, turn whatever we can into cold, hard, cash. And then we run until our legs give out. Until we’re tens of thousands of miles away from here.”
But I just can’t accept that.
I don’t think giving in and running away is the right thing to do.
“I can’t do that, Jake. You know I can’t.”
He shrugs, still staring out my balcony window, his eyes affixed on the scene outside.
“Then maybe we should just agree to disagree. Go our separate ways,” he says. “I can’t stay in this town another minute longer. I thought you felt the same, but I can see now how wrong I was.”
I sigh.
“Maybe you’re right,” I say flatly.
I can feel my heart breaking in two, I’m terrified to lose Jake for good. But I can’t compromise on this. I know what I’m doing is right, even Jake knows it, deep down. I want to be with him, I really do. But I can’t agree to run off with the town’s money. I’d never be able to live with myself, no matter how happy I’d be with Jake by my side.
“I know I’m right,” Jake says.
He turns, starts walking to my front door. With his hand on my doorknob, he turns and looks at the painting to his left. The watercolor of the cactus. Jake turns back to me, extending me a half-hearted smile.
“I really enjoyed our time together,” he says.
My heart breaks again as I feel hot tears sting the edges of my eyes.
“I really did, too,” is all I can manage to say.
Jake sighs, opening my door halfway as he stares outside. He takes a quick glance back at me, then over to my countertop, looking at the duffel bags full of letters.
“I’m sorry, Nancy.”
And with that, he leaves, closing the door gently behind him.
I break down the second he’s gone, unable to hold it back any longer.
Twenty-Eight
Nancy
It’s all hopeless. I’m hopeless. Thrown away, cast aside like yesterday’s garbage. Jake’s done with me. He’s done with this town, he’s done with whatever life he’s built over these past few weeks. He was serious about leaving, I could see it in his eyes.
I hear his truck’s door slam a minute after he leaves, the engine starting up. It fades away a moment later, and I know Jake’s gone for good.
Like I said. Hopeless.
I fold myself up into a ball, curling onto my couch as I sob away the pain. The hurtful memories, the lying, the scheming. It’s all coming out of me, and I’m glad to be rid of it.
But I’m certainly not glad to be rid of Jake.
Far from it.
The day goes by in a haze, I’m left to rot on the couch in a tear-soaked mess. I’m out of options, I don't have that many choices left to make. Get a job or starve. Get kicked out onto the streets, or hang my head in shame as I return all the letters, beg Nora for my old job back at the café.
But doing the right thing was never out of the question. Sure, I’m out of options, I’m desperate for anything to turn this whole miserable situation around.
But I know I’m still going to return the letters, I’m still going to do right by the entire town. I’ll bear the brunt of the shame that Jake and I wrought together. I’ll find a job, hopefully back at the café. Batten down. Keep my head low, away from all the gossip and side-talk.
Because I’ll have to.
Because I don’t have any other choices left to make.
It’s all up to me now, and I’m going to have to be okay with that. The last of my savings’ll go to this month’s rent and utilities, then I’m out of cash. Dry. Fresh out of bones. But I know I’ll make it out of this alive. Because there’s no other way for this to end. I won’t let it go down any other way.
I sit up from my spot on the couch, looking outside as I rub my tired eyes.
The sun’s hanging overhead, I’ve spent the better part of my day wallowing in my own misery. I feel better, sure, but I’m nowhere closer to being out of the woods than I was before.
The only thing left to do is to take action.
So that’s what I’m going to do. I have a job to finish. With or without Jake, I’m going to get this done. No matter how long it takes, no matter if it kills me.
I get up, grabbing the duffel bags from my counter as I leave my apartment, more determined than I’ve felt before.
◆◆◆
I’ve managed to whittle down a hefty portion of the first bag by the time the sun starts to set over the trees, but I know I’m nowhere near close to finishing. I’ve still got a bag and a half of letters, well-wishes and gifts all built on a lie.
I have to finish these. No matter what.
With my car parked in one of the few neighborhoods here in town, I reach into the bag as I fish out the next letter to return. So far I’ve returned letters to the local vet, Chief of Police Hill, another letter from Principal Garry. There’ve been more, sure, but at some point they all start to blend together. I’ve caught myself slipping into a routine as the day draws on: letter, punch the address into the GPS on my phone, drive across town to deliver the return. Repeat. And so on, and so forth.
It’s exhausting, to say the least.
I grab the next letter, pulling it out of the bag as I read the return address.
Goddamnit. I knew I was going to have
to return this one eventually, but I really don’t think I can muster up the courage just yet.
I put the letter from Nigel Knoxley back into the duffel bag, putting it off for as long as I can. I put it off the other night, and I’m doing it again, I suppose. I’m not eager to drive to the house of my former boss, returning a gift that her husband sent me for a fake engagement. Nora never trusted Jake, never wanted to give him a chance. No wonder she didn’t want her name attached to a congratulations gift that her husband would later go on to send us.
But I know I’m going to have to return it eventually.
The letter from Nigel is burning a hole in my head, and I know I’m not going to be able to think about anything else until I get it back to him. I sigh, taking the letter back out as I punch the address into my GPS.
I’m twenty minutes away from their place. With any luck, Nora’ll still be at the café and I can return the letter without Nigel seeing me. Should be a piece of cake.
With the address punched in, the GPS showing me the way to go, I put my car in drive and head off to the Knoxley’s house.
◆◆◆
When I pull up to the address, I can see that calling it the Knoxley’s ‘house’ was horribly misguided. Behind a massive gate I can see a four-story mansion sitting atop a hill, built up by the collective fortune of Mr. and Mrs. Knoxley. The box factory and the café most definitely make them the richest couple in Twin Orchards, I have no more doubt in my mind about that. I’d never ventured to my former boss’s house before; I had no idea Nora and Nigel lived in such a palace. I didn’t know there was a place like this in Twin Orchards, and I figure their fortune must’ve built the place from the ground up, foundation and all.
I park in front of a metal call-box, I can see there’s a mailbox sitting right next to the intercom system. I can’t reach the mailbox from my driver’s seat, and I have to put the car in park, unbuckle my seat belt as I lean out the window with the envelope in hand.
Nope. Still too far.
