Old Habits

by Tabatha Kiss

  “Our lives were already happening, Will,” she argues. “What was wrong with how we were? Why couldn’t we be Will and Jovie for just a little bit longer?”

  “I wanted more.”

  “You weren’t entitled to it.”

  “I never said I was!”

  “You called me a selfish child.”

  “Well,” I pause, “some people would argue that your behavior was childlike and self-absorbed.”

  “Some people like your sister?”

  “Not everything is Sara’s fault, Jove.”

  “And not everything is mine, either.” She frowns. “When is the blame going to fall on you for once? But no — not perfect Will Myers. He can do no wrong.”

  “Gee, that’s funny. Because I certainly didn’t get that memo when you up and disappeared on me without so much as a note. Do you have any idea how horrible that felt?”

  “Probably about as horrible as it felt to have you break up with me less than a day after proposing.”

  “I’m sorry. Did I beat you to that punch? I kind of figured it was over when you rejected the proposal in the first place.”

  She leans back. “I didn’t reject the proposal.”

  “You didn’t say yes.”

  “I didn’t say no. I asked for a few days to think about it.”

  “Well, you’ve had four years. What’s your answer?”

  She doesn’t even hesitate. “No.”

  “And there it is.” I throw up my hands. “This is awesome, Jove! Real happy we did this.”

  “I know you’re joking right now, but honestly, this feels really good to finally get out,” she says.

  “I agree!”

  “Then, why are you shouting?”

  “I’m not!”

  She tilts her head at me and I close my mouth. We go silent, our chests rising and falling fast as we glance around at the wide-open eyes of everyone around us.

  Well, what do you know? Ten minutes face-to-face and we’re already at each other’s throats. Life with Jovie Ross is a constant rollercoaster. Sometimes, you’re riding high on passionate adrenaline with your hands in the air. Other times, you’re digging your nails into your restraints, eyes squeezed shut, just waiting for it all to be over so you can get the hell off.

  Maybe Sara was right. This was a mistake.

  Jovie waits, staring hard at the nosier patrons until they shift uncomfortably and turn away. Then, she clears her throat and looks at me. “I did leave you a note, by the way.”

  I frown. “No, you didn’t.”

  “Yes, I did.”

  “Where’d you leave it?”

  “On your window, like always,” she says.

  “No, I checked that,” I say, thinking back. “Nothing was there.”

  She shrugs. “If you didn’t get it then someone else did.”

  I search her face for bullshit but the tone in her voice speaks truth. “What’d it say?”

  “I don’t remember,” she says, her eyes dropping to her glass.

  “Yes, you do.”

  “It doesn’t matter. It’s not important anymore.”

  “You wouldn’t have brought it up if it weren’t.”

  “Will, can we just…” She exhales. “We’ve already paved over memory lane enough tonight, haven’t we?”

  I nod with defeat. “I guess so.”

  Jovie takes a long drink, her throat bobbing at least three times before she sets it back down. “Wow,” she says, her voice numb. “It all comes back so quickly, doesn’t it?”

  And I want it to. For fuck’s sake. Part of me is actually enjoying this. I’m livid and screaming on the inside but it’s all worth it just to look into her eyes again.

  “So, did you?” I ask.

  “Did I what?”

  “See the ocean?”

  She thinks for a moment. “Yes,” she finally says.

  “Atlantic or Pacific?”

  “Both.”

  I wait for more but she says nothing. “Cool.”

  She lays her hands in her lap beneath the table. “Listen, Will…” she sits a little taller, “I think it’d be best if we didn’t see each other while I’m in town.”

  I scoff. “If that’s what you want.”

  “It is.” She nods. “You’re doing well now. You don’t need—”

  “Cut the crap, Jove,” I interrupt. “We both know you’re doing this to make yourself feel better. Don’t put it on me.”

  Her brow arches, followed closely but the quick intake of hot breath. I sit still and prepare for a classic and brutal Jovie Ross tongue-lashing but she says nothing. Instead, she exhales slowly and stands up from her seat.

  “I’m gonna go,” she says, staring down at me with tired eyes. “Have a good night, Will.”

  “Wait, Jovie…” I shift forward as she walks off. “Let me drive you home.”

  “I’ll walk.”

  I grunt as a bolt of adrenaline fires through my veins but I’m far too exhausted to act on it. I watch her go, my eyes falling to her boots and up her legs as her hips sway with her quick, purposeful steps toward the exit.

  Jovie. My Jovie.

  At least, she used to be.

  Now, I’m not even sure I know who she is anymore. She looks like Jovie. Talks like Jovie. But this isn’t the same Jovie Ross who pulled the fire alarm on prom night or senior pranked the vice principal by moving his office furniture to the school roof the night before graduation.

  But that’s not a bad thing.

  This Jovie is more restrained. Mature, even. The dark humor and quick wit are still there but she’s older, wiser, and more beautiful than I was prepared for.

  Lucky hovers over my shoulder with a broad smirk on her middle-aged face. “Anything else I can get you, hun?”

  I take a breath and reach into my wallet for my debit card. “No, thanks.”

  She swipes it from my fingers and walks off. I ignore her smug glance back at me and check around at the innocent bystanders.

  The water cooler chatter around Clover should be awfully colorful tomorrow, that’s for sure.

  Chapter 8

  Will

  If you didn’t get it then someone else did.

  Jovie left me a note. How did I miss it and why am I so sure she’s telling the truth?

  She never was the type to lie to me. There’s a first time for everything, I suppose, but I can’t shake the feeling that this isn’t that time. If Jovie Ross left me a note and the contents of it could have changed the course of the last four years, then I have to know about it. I have to know if there’s something I could have done differently — even if ignorance is bliss.

  I pull into my parents’ driveway and park my motorcycle near the garage. Jovie said she left the note on my window but what are the odds of it still being there now?

  I walk around the right side of the house until I come to my window. Just looking at it from this side brings me a wave of nostalgia. All the times I snuck out of it. All the times Jovie snuck into it.

  I check the outer window sill but there’s nothing there and there’s no sign of it in the grass beneath it either — not that a note would have survived the elements for four years anyway.

  I reach into my pocket for my keychain and pinch the spare house key on my way up the porch.

  “Mom?” I announce as I step inside.

  “Will?”

  I step down the hall as she pokes her head out of her office. “Hey, Mom.”

  “What are you doing here?” she asks, smiling.

  “I just came to check for something in my room. Do you mind?”

  She shakes her head. “No, not at all. Go ahead.”

  “Thanks.”

  “You okay?” She tilts her head. “You’re looking a little queasy.”

  “I’m fine,” I say, continuing through the house toward my old room. “No appointments today?”

  “Came home for lunch,” she shouts across the hall. “I was just on my way back out.”

/>   “Ahh.” I push open my bedroom door. “Don’t let me keep you. I’ll lock up.”

  “Okay!”

  I walk to the window. My dresser sits beneath it, strategically placed there in my youth to allow me or Jovie to slide in and out without making too much noise. I search the top but, just like four years ago, there’s nothing there. Just a few old pictures and a bottle of old body spray that I’m a little embarrassed to admit I used.

  Did she lie?

  Or did someone really find it before I could?

  Or maybe…

  I lower down to the floor to peek beneath the dresser.

  Shit.

  I push back up and pull it away from the wall. It grinds against the wooden floor as I slide it forward and scratches even more as I shove it to the side.

  My stomach turns. A folded up piece of notebook paper rests on the floor. I know not to get my hopes up. Jovie left me notes all the time; maybe once a week from ages sixteen to eighteen. This could be from any one of those times but the only way I’m going to know for sure is if I pick it up right now and read it.

  Every instinct in me battles it out as I bend down. Part of me thinks I should just burn it. Whatever is written here won’t change the past or make me feel any better about the last four years. But it could answer questions. Ignorance is bliss. But Jovie is, too.

  I unfold it and stare at the white space until I finally bring myself to read it.

  Don’t wait for me.

  It’s her handwriting. It’s a little sloppy but it’s hers.

  I sit down and lean against the drawers. The metal handles dig into my back, keeping me from resting too comfortably but it’s not like that’s even possible right now.

  She wanted me to know she was gone. Not only that, she wanted me to move on. She didn’t want me to sit around, pining for her, wondering where she went and whether or not she was safe but that’s exactly what I did.

  If I had seen this back then, would it have been different?

  Would I have gotten over her faster?

  Would I have gone after her?

  Fucking hell.

  “Whatcha doing on the floor, honey?”

  I look up at my mother standing in the doorway. She zips up her coat and slides a beanie hat over her thick, brown curls.

  I fold the note and stuff it in my jacket pocket. “Nothing.”

  She wanders in and sits on my old bed. “Is this about the Ross girl?”

  I sigh. “That obvious, huh?”

  “Are you seeing her again?”

  “No.”

  “Well, that’s not what I heard.”

  I frown. “What have you heard?”

  “That you two made quite the scene at Lucky’s bar last night,” she says, smiling.

  “Who did you hear that from?”

  “Sara.”

  I scoff. “And where did she get that from?”

  Mom pauses to think. “She said that Drew Warner’s fiancée told her that her roommate’s little sister was tending bar and caught a front row seat to the entire spat.”

  I roll my eyes. “Well, that traveled fast.”

  “William, nothing travels faster in this town than tales of you and Jovie Ross.” She smirks. “What’d you make a scene about?”

  “We didn’t make a scene,” I say. “We just had a very… animated conversation.”

  “About what?”

  “I don’t know…” I rise off the floor. “How you been, Jove? Why’d you take off? What are you doing back? Where the hell have you been this whole time?”

  “Did she answer any of those?”

  “Not really, no.”

  “That might be for the best.” She shifts into a comforting tone. “Jovie was a lot of things. Independent, spontaneous—”

  “Infuriating.”

  “And smart,” she finishes. “If she doesn’t want to tell you where she’s been, she probably has a good reason for it.”

  “I know.” I exhale hard. “It’s not my business but it is my business if the answer to any of those questions is me.”

  “Give her time, Will.”

  “I gave her time, Mom. I gave her four years.”

  “Then, you give her more time. You give her all the time in the world because you’re right — it’s not any of your business. Even if you’re the one who pushed her away in the first place. Even if you’re the one who brought her crawling back here after all this time. It’s not your business until Jovie decides to make it your business and you need to come to terms with the fact that that may never happen.”

  The pang in my chest travels through my toes and back. “Damn,” I say. “That’s some tough love, Mom. Thanks a bunch.”

  She smiles. “Tough is my favorite kind of love. It always ends in comfort food.” She rises off the bed. “Come on. Your dad doesn’t know that I know where he hides the good Oreos.”

  “No, you should get back to work. I’m fine.”

  “I’m sure Beverly Trin won’t mind waiting an extra ten minutes on Novocain before I yank her molar out. Now, come on.”

  I follow behind her, feeling that note burning a hole in my pocket all the way to the kitchen.

  Don’t wait for me.

  It was right there on torn paper this whole time.

  That night, Jovie packed a bag. She got in her car to leave town but she stopped by my parents’ house first. Usually, her notes would be perfectly slid into place between the window and the sill, trapped there so nothing could accidentally pull it out. This one was tossed inside.

  She was in a hurry.

  What the hell were you running from, Jovie?

  Chapter 9

  Jovie

  We’re through. That much is obvious now.

  Will and I couldn’t make it one conversation without it becoming a shouting match. He’s not over the fact that I left but it’s not all his fault. Thoughts and feelings I once believed long dead were lying dormant inside of me just waiting for the moment when I finally saw his face again.

  At least, now I know. Now I can stop playing what-if with myself and move on.

  The entry bell rings across the toy store. I don’t look up from the inventory list, though. If I don’t get this finished by the end of my shift today, Mr. Trin will have my ass.

  “Hello!” I greet, turning the page over to the backside.

  Whoever it is doesn’t answer but I hear the loud clack of high heels bounding toward the counter. I look up as they stop and instantly wish I hadn’t.

  Sara stands in front of me, staring hard at me through her swept, brown bangs. Will’s big sister. Still just as tall and intimidating as she always was.

  I really don’t need this today.

  “Hello, Jovie,” she says.

  “Hey, Sara,” I say, throwing on a forced pleasant face. “How may I help you?”

  Her eyes drift down my red smock as her pointed nose sticks a little higher up into the air. “You can start by explaining what you’re doing here.”

  “Earning minimum wage.”

  “Not here,” she says. “In Clover.”

  I let out a thick sigh. “That’s not really any of your business.”

  “You have a lot of nerve coming back, Jovie.”

  “To my home town?”

  “To Will’s life.”

  I shake my head and glance down at my list again. “Wow… so this is still your thing, huh?”

  “What is?”

  “Sticking your big nose where it doesn’t belong.”

  She snatches the list from my hand. I feel a rage spike in my chest but I hold it back. “Will is my brother,” she argues.

  “And he’s a big boy,” I say.

  “Stay away from him.”

  “I’m going to tell you the same thing I told you like… six years ago.” I lean forward and steal the list right back. “Piss off. Will’s an adult. He can take care of himself. He doesn’t need you to hold his hand when he crosses the street anymore.”

  She s
tands a little taller. “You know what this sounds like to me?”

  “Like you need a hobby?” I quip.

  “Like you need a gentle reminder of our arrangement.”

  “Look, Sara.” I step back. “I didn’t come back here to reunite with Will. We even talked last night and agreed that seeing each other while I’m here — in any capacity — wasn’t going to happen. So, retract your claws, okay?”

  “Then, why did you come back?”

  “Okay, now we’re just going in circles.”

  “I’m not going to play games with you, Jovie. Either you leave town or I’ll tell him everything that happened.”

  “I didn’t do anything,” I mutter.

  “It’ll be your word against mine,” she says. “Who exactly do you think he’s going to believe? His sister, who stuck by him when he needed it the most, or the girl who felt like this place was so far beneath her that she abandoned him?”

  “I did not abandon him.”

  “Doesn’t matter.”

  “The truth doesn’t matter?” I fire back.

  “You can cast me the villain all you want but, in the end, he will never forgive you for what you took from him and we both know it.”

  Nausea wrecks my gut. “You can go now.”

  “And so can you. How much?” she continues. “How much is not breaking Will’s heart all over again worth to you?”

  “I don’t want your money,” I say.

  “Still took it before, didn’t you?”

  I go silent, clenching my teeth together and digging my nails into the counter top to cling to it.

  Sara leans forward. “Just out of curiosity, what did you do with it?”

  “I donated it to charity,” I spit.

  “I don’t mean the money, Jovie.”

  I inhale slowly. “That’s really none of your business. Now, if you have any questions about the latest line of collector ornaments, I’m happy to assist you. Otherwise, I’ll kindly ask you to fuck off.”

  She smiles and takes a step back. “Good talk. Stay away from my brother.”

  I close my eyes and listen until her heels clack off and the entry bell chimes again. I wait until I can’t hear anything else before letting my knees give out and collapsing to the floor beneath the counter with tears burning my eyelids.