by L. B. Dunbar
“I can’t ask you to leave the paper. The thing you’ve waited years for. The column of your dreams. I could beg you to stay with me, but you’d resent me. Deb did.”
It’s a checklist of things against us.
“I’m not Deb.” What did she give up in order to live with her successful husband and their beautiful daughter? And yes—yes, he could beg me to stay. Begging is good, I think to myself, but I don’t say that. “How could Deb have possibly resented you?” It’s an awkward question to ask in our current conversation, but I want to know.
He shifts, turning his body to face mine. “She resented that I worked so much while she was home. Doing what, I have no idea. She wasn’t a homemaker in the traditional sense. Didn’t want a job but didn’t want our child either. She was a terrible wife and a horrible mother.” He sighs and swipes at his face. “And I didn’t beg her to come back to me. I wanted the divorce she asked for, but I also wanted answers from her. She refused to speak to me. We signed the papers separately and parted ways.” He exhales. “And you’re right, you’re not her. That’s why I can’t believe you left without talking to me.”
I sigh in frustration, twisting on the bed to face the ceiling. He’s quiet until I turn my gaze back to him.
“I don’t have anything to offer you,” he whispers.
“You have so much more to offer than you realize. Family. Katie.” I swallow. “Grace is all the way down in Georgia where she has a husband and five children. Well, almost five. And I have only me. Here.” Alone.
“You kept saying you were going to leave,” he says quietly.
“You didn’t tell me you wanted me to stay.”
We stare at one another. It’s the most honest we’ve been with each other, and it scares me to death.
“I can’t ask you to come back with me, but I also can’t seem to give you up.”
Why? I want to plead. Why can’t he ask me? But I’ve just heard all his reasons, and if he doesn’t want to ask, I’m not going to beg.
“Emily.” He reaches for the tear rolling down my cheek, and I close my eyes.
I shake my head. I’m fine. I’m fine. I’m fine.
Jess moves closer to me and pulls me into his chest. I bury my face in my hands against him as his fingers stroke my back. The silent tears fall while I fight the sob so desperate to escape.
“We won’t say goodbye,” he whispers, but we both know it’s already happened. Despite his presence here, we’ve already let each other go.
+ + +
Jess and I wake early. His arms are wrapped securely over my back as I inhale his scent. He smells of pine, fresh air, and me.
“How did you get here?” I whisper into his warm skin. The real question I want to ask is if he came for me, but based on what we’ve already discussed, he isn’t here to ask me to follow him.
“I had a meeting in Grand Rapids about the radio. I figured I was already halfway here, so I called Tricia to watch Katie overnight for me. I needed to see you.” He exhales and tugs me tighter to him, but I move my head to look up at his face. His scruff is a little deeper. His hair spills back.
“What are we going to do?” I ask, feeling the all-too-familiar lump in my throat.
“I’m going to go home, and you’re going to stay here, and I’m going to think of you every day.” He hugs me tighter, a tease in his tone, but I don’t find any peace in this suggestion. I nod against him. Home. Here. Those two words war with each other, and I wish it didn’t feel so impossible.
“I just didn’t want us to part without an understanding. Without you understanding how I feel.”
“And how do you feel?” I pull back from him. I want to see his eyes when he answers.
“Well, my fairy-tale woman . . .” He brushes back my hair as he begins. “In a garden of a thousand roses, I’d pick you.” He looks from my forehead to my chin and then to each eye, like compass points on a map. “I’d recognize you as the most precious one.”
The Beast and his rose. It’s the metaphor I used. I could cry, but I don’t. I tip my face up to kiss him. Tenderness turns to tantalizing within seconds, and Jess has me on my back in no time. Our mouths hardly part as his body cascades over mine, parts my thighs, and settles where he fits me best. He slips into me and pauses our kisses to lean back and look down at me. He brushes my hair over my ear, and his mouth falls open, then shuts. There aren’t any more words to speak. Our bodies talk instead.
You are who I want most.
Yet it still feels so hopeless. This is the way of things for me, but I don’t concentrate on that. I focus on Jess. The feel of him buried inside me. The movement of his hips against mine. The drag of his thickness to the edge of my core and the plunge back into the depths. This is how we work best, pushing and pulling against one another.
“Again,” I groan when he moves a certain way.
Again and again and again, I want to sing. Not only like this, not only with sex but as us. I want us, again and again and again.
“Again,” I mutter, and a grin graces his lips as my eyes roll back.
“It shouldn’t keep getting better.” He shifts his eyes to watch where he enters me.
It shouldn’t, but it does, and I’ll never be the same.
+ + +
Eventually, we shower. We explore one another the way we did the first time we showered together, and it ends in quite the same way with our mouths hungry for body parts once again. When we finish, Jess demands food.
“I want the Chicago experience.”
We settle on a famous hot dog joint.
“What do you mean I can’t have ketchup?” he teases as we wait to order.
“No ketchup. That’s the Chicago way.”
Jess laughs and tucks me under his arm and into his chest. He hasn’t stopped touching me all day, as though holding on to the seconds before he needs to leave.
“I’d love to stay another night,” he’d told me in the shower, “but then I’d want another night and another. Again and again. I might never leave.”
Might whispered through my head, but Katie came to mind, and I knew I’d never ask this of him. I’d never ask him to stay with me.
“Tell me about the radio,” I say once we take a seat.
He points his straw at me. “I shouldn’t have done it, but Tom can be relentless. Always meddling where he shouldn’t. He sent those plans to our dad’s friend. Bill was curious about my design and wanted to see it for himself.”
“What would it mean if he took the design?”
“I’d patent it first, and then he can mass produce it, I guess.” Jess shrugs like an invention of this sort is no big deal. He’s too smart to be working in an electrical repair shop, but he doesn’t seem concerned about it.
“You want to say something,” he says, his eyes narrowing in on me.
“You once told me you’re right where you’re supposed to be in life, but I feel like under that conviction, there’s still a hint of desire for a little more challenge in your life.”
He sighs and turns his head to look out the window at the busy city street. “Yes, I wanted more for myself at one time. Out of a small town into a big city. A bigger house. A better car. Financially set.” He turns his head back to me. “But I wasn’t happy. I was chasing something, and I wasn’t catching it. Then I came home, and once things settled a bit, I felt more content. What’s that fairy tale about the girl whose backyard held all she ever wanted?”
“The Wizard of Oz and it’s not technically a fairy tale.”
Jess waves a dismissive hand at me. “My point is all I ever wanted was never more than what I already have.”
“And you have everything you need now?” I smile as I ask.
“Not everything,” he says. He holds my gaze a second longer, and my heart skips a beat.
The day passes quickly as we walk Navy Pier. We stop at the end and look out across the lake. On the far side is his home, and on this side is mine. Couples live apart, work apart all th
e time, but that isn’t what I want, and Jess feels the same way. He wants a family in one place. I want the same.
The next girl will keep him happy. This is a pattern I recognize.
But should it continue to be the pattern of your life? It sounds like something Grace might say.
“You okay?” Jess asks as we stare at the water in silence.
“I will be.” It feels like a lie, but it isn’t totally untrue. I always bounce back. I always move forward.
His hand rubs my arm, and he kisses my temple before we turn back toward the opposite end of the pier.
When it comes time to part, my skin crawls, and I have a desperate need for him to sink into me again. Our mouths mesh and tongues lick, but he holds me at bay, hands on my jaw while my fingers itch to touch his body and wrap myself around him. He needs to leave before I lose it.
Sensing I’m on edge, he pushes gently at my shoulders.
One more night will turn into wanting one more night.
“Come visit us someday,” he whispers, holding his forehead to mine. Someday. I nod against him, but we both know a visit is not the answer. Not for Katie. Not for us.
I’m not certain who releases who first, but he reaches for his bag and hitches it over his shoulder. We share a final kiss—rough and desperate and needy—like that first time in the library basement. Then just as quickly, the kiss ends.
“See you around, Emily Post of Chicago.”
“You might,” I whisper as he steps toward my door and exits.
Rule 23
Unasked questions don’t get answers.
[Emily]
“Did I make a mistake?” I ask Grace on the phone, laying it all out for her that night.
It’s not that I don’t love my new job. Who doesn’t want to get paid to read books and connect them to life experiences? I have so many ideas for the column.
“You know you had another one of those movie moments, right?” Grace says, and I giggle. My sister’s been watching a lot of late-night movies since she isn’t sleeping well. Baby five is due to arrive any day now.
“What movie?”
“Jess pulled an, ‘I’m just a man standing in front of a woman asking her to love me,’ moment.”
I laugh harder. “First of all, it’s the other way around. The woman went after the man, and no one said anything about love.” Although that’s exactly how I feel. I love him.
“You know what I mean.” Grace pauses. “You wanted a man to chase you, and he did.”
I stare at my sliding glass door that leads out to a narrow balcony. That’s my backyard.
“Everything I ever wanted I already had,” Jess said. He didn’t need to look further than his own backyard.
“I don’t know what I’m doing anymore.”
“What do you mean?” she asks, keeping her voice low.
“I think I made the wrong choice,” I state.
“In my exhaustion, honey, I don’t have brain cells to spare, so you need to be very specific.”
“I’m not sure I’m happy here.”
“In your condo?”
“In Chicago.” The admission falls around me like a rain shower, spontaneous yet refreshing. “I miss them.”
“That’s because you care about them. You love them, Em. Can you admit that to yourself?”
I remain quiet for a second.
“Missing someone is a part of love. I go through this every time Mark leaves.” Grace’s husband serves endless tours in the military, and whenever he returns home, she gets pregnant once again. “I’m not certain which way you want me to lean, Em. Do you want to quit your dream job or be with the man of your dreams who you love along with his child?”
Well, when she puts it like that? Do I really need to choose? But Grace isn’t finished.
“Let me put it another way. What would Nana say? She’d say your life is your story, and only you can decide how it’s written.”
“That still doesn’t help me decide.”
“I think you’ve already decided, little sister. You just need to do it.”
“I’m so scared.” My voice cracks as I whisper into the phone.
“Honey, that’s a part of love too. If it wasn’t scary, we’d miss the thrill of it. It would be boring and soft, and from what you’ve told me, boring and soft are not two words one would use to describe Jess Carter.” She laughs at her comment in reference to all the oversharing I’ve done about Jess and myself and our bedroom antics. “Look, do you need me to spell it out for you? Here’s how I see it. You wanted a man to chase you, and he did. You wanted a man to pick you, and he told you has. You say he’s stubborn, but so are you. You want to be asked outright. He doesn’t want to put that pressure on you. You need to make up your own mind, Em.”
She takes a deep breath.
“It’s your move, honey. Either run after him or let him go.”
There’s an old saying about setting someone free. If they come back to you, they are yours. If they don’t, they never were. Jess set me free, but I want to be his.
“Want to know how the movie ends?”
I shake my head. I’ve seen Notting Hill. “The man admits he made a mistake.”
My sister corrects me. “The woman gets the man.”
+ + +
I’m still struggling over the next week and a half. A physical ache has taken up residence in my chest, and then one afternoon at work, Tricia Carter calls me.
“How did you get my number?”
“As the youngest of four, I’m resourceful like that,” she jokes, and I laugh. She’s thirty-something but sounds like a naughty teenager.
“How are you?” I ask, wondering about more than just her. How is Jess, Katie, Elk Lake City?
“The same, only better. I left my husband and bought a house.” Pride and sadness fill her voice. “Well, I didn’t actually buy it yet. Mrs. Drummond is renting it to me with the option to buy. I don’t want to purchase it now and risk losing it as a shared asset in my divorce. My family is in shock. Trent is upset although he has no reason to be.” I know nothing of her husband or their relationship, but the fact that she is reaching out to me makes me think she needs a friend, someone outside the small community.
“Want to talk about it?”
“I do, but I also don’t. I just called to hear how you are.” The heavy pause following her statement leads me to believe there is more. “Do you want to know how he is? How Katie is?”
“Of course. Tell me about Katie.” I want to video chat with Katie. I want to call Jess, but we hadn’t made any promises like that, and our mutual silence has continued.
I learn details about Katie’s progress with the new school and the dedication of her teacher, and I’m happy to hear she’s making strides with both the picture-communication app and her speech.
“The teacher loves her and says Katie told her a story about a fairy who taught her a special language.”
Princess Katie. Brave girl. We didn’t learn more than a few ASL signs. Happy birthday. Daddy. Thank you. I love you.
“Jess has been really receptive to the device, but he’s encouraging her to learn to sign as well. He says they can keep it as a secret language between them.”
I smile wide, proud of him for embracing what his daughter needs.
“Just ask me about him already!” Tricia scolds with a chuckle.
I laugh without her humor. “Look, Jess and I agreed it wouldn’t work out. Him there. Me here. Not communicating is for the best.”
“Really? Because he’s miserable. A tyrant. Worse than before.” I chuckle at the description. “You think I’m joking, but I’m not. A part of my fear when Katie stopped speaking was Jess’s behavior. He was so frustrated. I worried that his broody, moody side kept her silent.” She sighs, and I understand. I’d been curious about the same thing myself, but he’d never harm his child.
“I’m sure Jess is doing the best he can.”
“My brother is very capable, make no mista
ke, but he’s given up a lot to be back here. He never complains, and he’s convinced it’s where he’s meant to be. Maybe it is. But he doesn’t see the bigger picture. He doesn’t have to give up everything. You two can work this out.”
“Tricia,” I groan.
“Look, I just want my big brother happy. He deserves it. We all deserve happiness,” she argues, speaking as much for her brother as she is for herself.
“I agree,” I state.
Live in the now, Emily, Nana whispers.
“Can’t you be a journalist from anywhere?” she questions, and I laugh with more energy. “What about that book your nana used to brag you were going to write one day?”
Ugh. Nana was too vociferous about my one-day dream. Someday.
“It isn’t all that easy to just sit down and write a book. And I don’t think I have the wisdom I’d hope to impart in one yet,” I state. The moment I say the words, something stirs in the back of my mind, and an image of the plastic bin I stored in Nana’s garage comes to me.
“Wisdom sounds like you need to be ancient. You going to keep living your life and hope wisdom just comes to you? What experiences are you having to gain wisdom?”
Jesus, she almost sounds like Grace.
“Living life is how you gain wisdom,” she says. “And besides, no one reads the paper anyway. It’s too depressing.” She scoffs, trying to lessen the tension building in her advice to me.
I want to tell her I am living my life, but I pause. Am I really?
“Your life is your greatest story, Em. Are you living it?” Grace said to me weeks ago. Weeks ago, when I was in Elk Lake City and everything was new, scary, and thrilling with one Jess Carter.
“Plenty of people do still read the newspaper,” I defend, smiling through my roundabout admission that she isn’t completely wrong. Some news is depressing, and other news is just plain boring to report.
“Yes, but do you still like writing for it?” It isn’t the strangest question to ask.
