by Beth Rinyu
“You don’t owe anyone anything.” Jack took a sip of his coffee, confusing me with his change of opinion. Just a week ago, he was telling me to push Francesca into doing it, now he was more or less telling me what I had thought all along—it wasn’t my business.
“But I thought you said I should coax Francesca into doing it?”
“Yes, Francesca. Give her the strength to do it not because you feel like you owe anyone because you don’t. You were just an innocent party in all this,” he clarified.
“I know. But I watched his brother on television the other night doing an interview, and he was so smug.” I was seething just thinking about it. “Such a bold-faced liar!”
“He’s a politician, that’s part of their DNA.”
“He’s a rapist is what he is.”
“Are those ramen noodles?” Jack totally changed gears on me, staring straight ahead and pointing to the cardboard box on the counter.
“Yes.” I laughed. “Seems like we passed our love for them down to Kara. She came home from the supermarket the other day with a whole case.”
“Come on, you know they’re a staple when you’re in your twenties.” Jack grinned. “Do you remember the first year we were married and our first Christmas in that little apartment?”
A smile spread across my face as the memories flooded my mind like it was only yesterday. Jack and I had spent Christmas Eve with his parents, and then did our annual Christmas breakfast with mine. I was determined on cooking him our first Christmas dinner in our home, which was a shoebox-sized apartment with a miniature antiquated oven to match.
Lasagna was always Jack’s favorite, and I had meticulously prepared it the day prior into a picture-perfect creation. All that was left to do was bake it in the temperamental oven that had a mind of its own, lowering and raising the temperature out of the blue like it was possessed. I would normally keep a close watch over it whenever it was in use, but when Jack snuck up behind me, lifting my hair away, then kissing the back of my neck, I threw all caution to the wind. We ended up in the bedroom for quite some time, and the lasagna ended up being burned beyond recognition. The only options we were left with for Christmas dinner was frozen pizza or ramen noodles. Since we didn’t want to mess with the oven again, we opted for the latter. My burned lasagna had become a secret joke between Jack and me throughout the years. He’d make little innuendos, sometimes right in front of both my and his parents about going home and burning lasagna—which became his code words for having sex. They would always look at us so strangely when I would scold him at first for saying it, then bust out with laughter. I often wondered if they ever caught on.
“Would you like some ramen noodles?” I asked.
“I’m game if you are.”
“Why not?” I got up and grabbed a package of noodles, flipping it over and reading the directions.
“You actually have to read the cooking instructions? You used to be able to make them in your sleep,” Jack remarked.
“It’s been a very long time. In fact, today is exactly twenty-five years since we started the tradition. Thankfully, we never carried on with it through the years.” I crinkled my nose.
A boyish grin spread across his face. “How the heck do you know it’s been twenty-five years?”
I guess he had forgotten that we would’ve been married for twenty-five years this past October. It wasn’t something that most divorced people kept track of—even a lot of married people for that matter, but I did. “I don’t know. I guess because it was the first Christmas we were married…do the math,” I replied nonchalantly as if it had just come to mind, and not something I dwelled upon when the date popped up on the calendar.
His smile faded, and I was certain it had hit him at that precise moment that if we had lasted, we would’ve made it to our silver anniversary. “Wow, I guess you don’t realize how fast time really flies. Do you?” he muttered. I nodded and turned back around, avoiding his gaze and tending to the boiling water on the stove.
Once the noodles were done cooking, I dished them into bowls and carried them over to where we were sitting. “Now, since I was a little out of practice with cooking these, they may not be up to your usual standards,” I teased as we twisted the noodles around our forks and took the first bite in unison.
“You haven’t lost your touch.” Jack smiled as he swallowed the forkful he’d just taken. “I’m probably going to get a massive headache after eating these. Something I have learned in those past twenty-five years…I’m allergic to MSG.”
“Oh no! Then why are you—”
He held up his hand to stop me. “I think a little migraine is worth reliving one of the most memorable Christmases.”
I stared down at my bowl, twisting my fork round and round, trying to evade his prior statement and the emotions it stirred up inside of me. He reached over and took the fork from my hand, placing it down on the island. His hand skimmed the side of my face and there was nowhere else for me to look but into his eyes.
“I thought a lot about what you said the last time I was here, and I felt really bad for the way I left things. I don’t want you to think I don’t want to be your friend. It’s just hard because when I’m around you and we’re getting along like the way we are now, part of me wants more. I know that’s totally selfish on my part, and I promise I’m working on overcoming that.” As his head inched closer and his lips skimmed mine, I knew he was doing a bad job at keeping that promise. I found myself in a heated internal battle, yearning for more while at the same time trying to find the strength to stop it.
“Jack, what are we doing?” I whispered as our kiss ended and our foreheads remained pressed together.
He shook his head. “I don’t know,” he whispered back. “I’m so confused.”
“Well, that makes two of us.”
The somber expression shrouding his face gave way to a playful grin. “But I say we burn some lasagna until we figure it out.”
Suddenly, I was staring at the twenty-three-year-old Jack back in that little apartment from all those years ago. I was feeling much like I was in my own weird version of a Christmas Carol, visiting Christmases past. Only contrary to the classic, I was able to partake in mine, being given two choices—to burn the lasagna or not.
Chapter 31
LYING IN JACK’S arms definitely beat watching bad Christmas movies alone, but just like the last time, the remorse started kicking in. I talked myself down from those thoughts by having my own internal conversation as I rested my head on his bare chest, listening to his heartbeat.
I’m a grown woman who could handle having a sexual relationship with her ex-husband. I don’t need to answer to anyone for my actions. I’m allowed to let my hair down and blow off steam every once in a while. These were all the excuses I used to rationalize why I had sex with him once again. “Jack?” I lifted my head, propping myself up on my elbow.
“Yeah,” he mumbled, sounding half asleep.
“Did you ever wonder if things would’ve worked out better for us if we had met later in life?” I lowered my head back on his chest and continued my quest. “We were both so young. We plunged into a lifelong commitment without ever experiencing life ourselves. God, I sound like my parents back in the day. Don’t I?”
He let out a slight chuckle. “Maybe we were too young, but that doesn’t mean I would change it. There was no one else in the world I wanted to be with.” He was right, our younger brains were ruled by love, not wisdom. That came later in life, once the mistakes had already been made. “Will you stop second-guessing yourself?”
“What? I’m not second-guessing myself.”
“Well, if you’re not, then lie back down.”
I rested my head back on his chest and he traced his fingers up and down my arm that was draping over him. The same way he always would after we’d make love. I didn’t want to think of how many women he had lulled to sleep in this manner after we split up. Instead, I wanted to believe it was something he had res
erved just for me.
My eyes were getting heavy and my mind was getting lighter with each stroke of his fingers. I wasn’t sure what tomorrow would bring between us or the day after that, so I was going to enjoy the here and now while I could. Unfortunately, the here and now didn’t last too long when Jack’s phone began to ring.
“Damn it,” he muttered as he reached for it on the nightstand and stared at the screen. “I gotta take this. It’s work.” It really was a snippet from my past with the emergency work call thrown in and all.
I sat up, knowing exactly what came next. He’d rush off to go on some important arrest that was about to go down, while I’d be up half the night, worrying until I heard from him again. At least that’s how it all went down in the past. He was no longer mine to lose sleep over, but I was only fooling myself. I would be worried all night. I wondered how many times he had gotten called into work while we were apart. How many nights of sleep would I have lost if we had still been together?
“Duty calls?” I forced a smile when he ended his call.
“I’m sorry. I knew there was a chance of this happening. That’s what the meeting was about earlier,” he explained as he hurriedly dressed.
“Guess the bad guys don’t observe holidays,” I joked, already knowing the answer to that question after having far too many holidays cut short because of Jack’s job. He was definitely on edge, even more so than I remembered him being before something big was about to go down. I threw on my pajamas and walked him down the stairs. “Good luck and be careful,” I said once we reached the door.
He nodded, leaning down and pecking me on the cheek before stepping outside and down the driveway to his car. I closed the door once he drove away, saying the same silent prayer I had said so many times before when it came to his safety.
Max pawed at my leg to get my attention, and it suddenly dawned on me it was after seven and I still hadn’t fed him dinner. “Oh, Maxie boy, I’m so sorry. How could I have forgotten to feed you?” I patted his head and went into the kitchen, fixing his bowl. He devoured it in no time, then began to whine to go outside. He and I had our little routine every night: dinner, potty break for him, then he’d follow me from room to room attached to me like Velcro for whatever I had planned. I turned on the small television I had hanging in the kitchen while I waited for Max to finish up. Flicking through the channels, I stopped when I reached one of the news stations, my eyes widening over what the news anchor was reporting.
“Karlyn Wells, the woman at the center of the sexual assault accusations against Senator Cavlan, was found dead in her home just outside of San Diego early this morning. Investigators are ruling it a suicide, stating that a mixture of alcohol and prescription sleeping pills were found at the scene.” The news footage switched from the studio to an outdoor area, which I was assuming was her home where a female reporter stood beside a man who appeared to be in his early thirties and clearly distraught. “I’m here with Victor Garcia, the fiancé of Ms. Wells. I understand you’re the one who found her?” The man nodded, trying to contain his composure. “Did she show any signs of being depressed?”
“Yeah, she was depressed.” His expression changed from sadness to anger. “She had something horrible happen to her. Something she carried around with her for years, and when she finally found the courage to speak out, you people made her look like she was the liar! You all did this to her!” The camera quickly cut off and went back to the news desk. “That was Karlyn Wells’ fiancé. He’s understandably stricken with grief.”
“Wow!” I shook my head in disbelief as I stared at the TV until Max began to call from outside. After letting him in, I picked up my phone, toying with the idea of calling Francesca to see if she had heard about it. I started to bring her up in my contacts and then stopped. She was enjoying Christmas with her daughter and grandson; I wasn’t going to ruin it by bringing up a bad memory from her past. So, I decided on a bubble bath and a glass of wine to try and decompress.
When I was younger, I’d head into a bathtub full of bubbles with a good book or a fashion magazine. These days, I opted for the sales circulars instead. Max lay on the cool tiles of the bathroom floor until my skin began to prune, and my bubbles faded away. I could’ve dealt with that and stayed in for a little while longer, but once the water chilled, I was out of there. I cocooned myself in the oversized towel, taking the few steps into my bedroom to change into clean pajamas, when I heard the front door open. Max bolted down the stairs, followed by the sweet little baby voice Kara would always use when greeting him. It was just about 9:00 p.m., and I was a little surprised, not expecting her home so early.
“I didn’t think you’d be home until a little later,” I greeted once I reached the bottom of the steps where Kara was sitting on the floor in the foyer, giving Max belly rubs.
She stood up and took off her coat. I jerked my head toward the closet she was standing right beside, reminding her to hang it up instead of just laying it down somewhere. “I wasn’t supposed to be.” She opened up the closet door and placed her coat on the hanger. “Until Dad called Ian into work.” She huffed. “I thought he was supposed to be in Florida, and next thing I know, he’s cutting Christmas short with some work emergency. He probably just figured Ian was with me and made something up.” She crossed her arms and pouted, resembling that five-year-old blond-haired, blue-eyed girl I remembered so distinctly.
“No, I don’t think that’s what he did.”
“Of course you’ll defend him.” Her voice trailed off as she strolled into the kitchen. I followed behind her, and she froze staring at the two half-eaten bowls of ramen noodles. “Who was eating ramen noodles? Not you.” She spun on her heels to face me. “You always get on my case for eating these,” she continued.
“Oh, umm…” I was floundering for words, once again feeling like I was in a role reversal, making up a lie to my mother after sneaking my boyfriend into the house. “Dad stopped over to surprise you. He left your present under the tree.” I was hoping that would be enough to divert her attention, causing her to rush to the living room to see what it was, but she wasn’t falling for it. “He was hungry, so I made him some noodles.”
“And you had some too? Remember your spiel about all the sodium…blah, blah, blah!”
I shrugged. “Well, it’s Christmas. You’re allowed to live a little on the edge one day a year.”
“With ramen noodles? What’s next, Mom? Skydiving?”
“Will you just be quiet?” I demanded, dumping the noodles into the trash, then putting the bowls into the dishwasher. “How was your day with Ian’s family?” Her face lit up, and if I had known that was the key to get off the dreaded noodle topic, I would’ve used it when she first walked in.
“Do you know they have horses? Their property sits on twelve acres. It’s absolutely beautiful.” Kara and horses. She took riding lessons as a child and always wanted a horse of her own. The closest she ever came to one was the oversized stuffed one Jack found at some feed and seed store. The thing was so big, it hardly fit through the door.
“Oh, wow. You must’ve been in heaven.”
“They were really nice people. He has an older brother and a baby niece who is just the cutest!”
“Sounds like you had a good day!” I smiled.
“It was. Did you have a good day?” she asked. I had sensed a little guilt in her tone.
“Oh yeah! I spent the morning with Pop, then I came home and relaxed.”
“With Dad?” she asked.
“What?” My voice rose an octave. “No!” I vehemently shook my head. “He came over to drop off your present. I made him something to eat, and as you can tell he didn’t even get a chance to finish when he got the call.” I hated lying to her.
“Okay.” She smirked with a hint of amusement in her eyes. “I’m going to get in my pajamas, then let’s watch a Christmas movie.”
There was nothing I wanted more. I was going to get to spend some time with my most favorite person o
n earth. It may not have been the Christmas I had planned, but overall it wasn’t so bad after all.
Chapter 32
IT HAD BEEN much too long since my best friend, Julie, and I had gotten together for Sunday brunch. Being that Valentine’s Day was coming up in the next few days, and neither of us technically had a valentine to spend it with, we decided to be each other’s dates and celebrate a few days early. What I didn’t know was she included Colleen and Shelly, two girls we went to school with, who were always much better friends with Julie than me. In fact, I never really cared for them much. They always came off as snobs back in high school, and the few times I’d been forced to be in their company since, much hadn’t seemed to change.
“So, you’re leaving for Cali on Thursday! I’m so jealous!” Julie beamed as she took a sip of her mimosa. I was happy the mean girls were running late because it gave me time to catch up with Julie. I had filled her in over the phone about my impromptu trip to California to visit Francesca, instead of the original plan of her coming here to visit me.
In the time that had passed since the suicide of Karlyn Wells, Francesca mustered up the courage to go forward with holding Dominick Cavlan responsible for what he had done all those years ago. Her sadness over another person’s life being taken because of his actions turned to anger, and she was ready to go after him with a vengeance. She had spoken with an attorney who had advised her on what steps needed to be taken. He then put her in touch with a reputable reporter from one of the major news channels, who had set up an exclusive interview with her to drop the bomb. When she had asked me to come there to support her during the long weekend I had off from school, I couldn’t refuse. I was a little sad that she wouldn’t be meeting Kara or my father as planned, but at the same time I was elated that she was taking this courageous step.
