Say Something Page 3

  I nodded. That was good. As happy as I was to be spending time with my family, I’d been living on my own for so long that I really liked having my own space. Not to mention, the movers were coming soon. I didn’t want to have to postpone the delivery of my stuff. Not that it was much, I could probably stow it in my parents’ basement or garage.

  “You know you’re more than welcome to stay with us as long as you need,” Mom said, reading my mind.

  I smiled at her from across the booth. “I know, Mom. I appreciate that. I was just thinking about the movers. They’ll be here next week and I’m hoping I have a place for them to deliver my stuff.”

  “Just talk to Michael, I’m sure he’ll do everything he can to get it done on time for you.”

  I hoped that was the case, but I wasn’t so sure. Things between Michael and I felt off, but I didn’t dare tell my mother that. She would have called him up right then and there and tried to fix whatever was broken, and I wasn’t entirely sure anything was broken. I just didn’t really know my brother anymore. He was in high school when I left, and now he was all grown up. We used to talk on the phone a lot, but that stopped when everything in my life started to go wrong.

  “I will. I didn’t realize his company did residential work.” At dinner, he had said his company did commercial construction, which is why I hadn’t even thought to ask him for help with the house. That and the fact that I figured he was an inspector or something, not an actual construction laborer.

  “They don’t, but you’re his sister.”

  “I haven’t been much of one,” I said before I could stop myself.

  Mom looked at me with a frown on her face. “Your brothers and sister don’t feel that way, you know? None of us do. We know you went through some really difficult things and that you needed time.”

  “I completely blocked all of you out, Mom. On purpose.” I added quietly, looking out the large, plate glass window of the diner. I avoided eye contact, not wanting to see the pity in her eyes. There was always pity in people’s eyes when they’d learned of my struggles. Pity and discomfort because people rarely knew what to say. It was as though infertility was the equivalent to leprosy for some people. Not that I ever really wanted to talk about it, but maybe I would have if the reception wasn’t so avoidant.

  A familiar blue pickup truck moved down Main Street, and my heart started racing.

  No, it couldn’t be. Not today. I wasn’t ready to see him. Not this soon.

  The truck kept going, passing the diner, and I sighed in relief.

  My mom reached across the table and took my hand. I pulled my gaze from the window and looked into her dark, understanding eyes, so like my own. “We forgive you.”

  “Thanks, Mom,” I said, offering a smile. “I’m sorry I’m not much fun today.”

  “Pish posh,” she said, waving her hand in dismissal. “You’re my daughter. Spending time with you is always fun.”

  Her words made me feel lighter and comfortable. I couldn’t help but wonder how different my life could have been had I just reached out to my mother when everything was falling apart.

  Would Danny and I still be together?

  Would I have still lost all those years to the darkness?

  “I’m sure you thought that very thing when Melissa and I were tearing up the formal gown section of the department store when we were kids.” Melissa and I had a thing for the fancy dresses when we were way too young to wear them, but that never stopped us from running away from our mom at the mall and playing amongst the silk and satin.

  “Oh, lord no. I didn’t start enjoying spend time with you hellions until you got a bit older,” she said, and we laughed together.

  As I took a sip of my tea, still contemplating some of life’s big questions, my mom’s eyes widened at something behind me.

  - 4 -

  I swear I could feel his presence before he spoke a single word. My skin prickled with awareness, hairs stood on end...my blood came alive. My entire being was humming with an energy only Danny could generate. I hadn’t heard his voice—seen his face—in three years, yet the connection was still there as if it were yesterday. We’d been invisibly tethered to one another since we were sixteen years old.

  Frozen in place, I was unsure of what to do. I wasn’t prepared for this…wasn’t prepared to fully consider us being in the same town again, let alone the same room—the same diner—that held so many of our young memories. They were good, innocent memories, before adult stuff got the best of us.

  Well, I couldn’t exactly run away from him. Not only would that have been childish, but it was also impossible since he’d moved into my peripheral and was now blocking my escape route from the booth. It was either crash through the window, or him. Neither was an appealing option.

  My wide eyes were focused on my mother, the straw from my glass of iced tea still between my puckered lips.

  Mom smiled at me reassuringly and stood up. “It’s good to see you, Danny,” she said, pulling him in for a hug. My parents had always loved Danny, and I’d never begrudge them that. He’d been such a big part of our lives—our family—for so long. “I’m just going to go pay our check,” she said.

  “It’s good to see you, too, Olivia,” Danny replied, watching my mom as she walked off, leaving us together at the booth. Alone.

  Alone together for the first time since those four harsh words were uttered between us, shattering the tense silence of our marital home, and the front door of our townhome had slammed shut with a damning finality.

  I want a divorce.

  I carefully placed my glass on the table and stared down at my hands that were now resting in my lap. How did they even get there that fast? I absently wondered. This moment was so incredibly surreal.

  Danny sighed before taking my mother’s vacated seat.

  “You’re not even going to talk to me?” he asked, and the pain in his voice cut right into me, leaving an open, bleeding wound behind.

  I closed my eyes, blinking back the tears that threatened to flow. I’m not ready for this, I thought to myself.

  “Or look at me? Jesus, Jessie, I thought we meant more to each other than that. At least we used to. Do you hate me that much?”

  My chin jolted up, and I locked eyes with him for the first time in years. The man of my dreams, who I’d loved—love—with all my soul. “I don’t hate you,” I said, my voice barely a whisper.

  He smiled. It was sad, a fraction of what I would have considered a true Danny smile, but it was still a smile. As his whiskey-colored eyes scanned my face, mine did the same to his. He still had that ever-present five o’clock shadow on his strong, straight jaw, only it was a bit scruffier now. His messy, straight-out-of-bed dark hair was longer now, too. He was tan, probably from spending so much time on the field, coaching his team. Definitely still gorgeous. My eyes connected with his again, and our gazes locked. I couldn’t look away, and, as it appeared, neither could he.

  “You look different,” he said finally.

  Under normal circumstances, I might have been offended by such a statement, but our circumstances were anything but normal. This was Danny. I knew he hadn’t meant for it to be offensive. Besides, I did look different. Hell, the last year or so of our marriage I’d completely shut down. I hadn’t cared about anything, least of all my appearance. He was probably surprised to see me with clean hair, a touch of makeup, polished nails, and pants that didn’t have an elastic or drawstring waistband.

  “So do you,” I replied. He was still as handsome as I remembered, but he looked tired, a lot less like the carefree boy I’d fallen in love with, and the easygoing man I’d been married to. He looked…weathered.

  “I’m tired,” he said, punctuating the statement with a perfectly timed yawn. “When I’m not working with the team, I’m working on the house. Seems my days are never-ending.”

  “Your uncle’s old place?” I hedged, remembering Melissa saying something about it yesterday.

  His face
lightened up at my words. “Talking about me, Jessie?”

  “Melissa has a big mouth,” I grumbled. “And don’t call me that,” I added as an afterthought.

  The light in his eyes went out, and I instantly felt bad. Jessie was a childhood nickname I couldn’t stand. He was the only person I ever let get away with it, mostly because he’d always follow it up with naughty things. But it was instinctual to tell whomever said the nickname not to use it; I hadn’t meant to upset him.

  Those days had long since passed anyway, and we were both better off remembering that.

  An awkward and uncomfortable silence rolled over the table—over the restaurant—and I glanced over my shoulder at my mom. She was sitting on a stool at the counter, quietly chatting with one of the waitresses. She’d obviously paid our tab and was now giving us what? Time alone to talk? I couldn’t believe she would do that to me. I was sure she meant well, but after a lot of therapy, I knew I needed to build up to something like this, not dive right in.

  “I should probably go,” I said, looking back at Danny and sliding across the red vinyl bench seat. As I stood up, Danny did the same.

  Then we were standing there, just inches from one another. I didn’t know what to say…what to do…I felt like the entire diner was looking at us. They probably were. Oak River’s golden couple, together again. But we weren’t together. Not in the sense the townspeople were probably hoping for.

  “Can I see you again?” he asked, tucking a loose strand of hair behind my ear. It was barely a touch, but it was intimate. It burned through my blood.

  “I don’t—”

  “Please, Jess,” he begged softly. Those damn tears came back, knocking at the backs of my eyes. “Please let’s just get together and talk some time.”

  “I don’t know. I have to go,” I whispered, still backing away. I couldn’t commit to seeing him again just yet. I still couldn’t quite comprehend that he was standing in front of me. That he was here…in Oak River. Hell, if I was being perfectly honest, I couldn’t quite comprehend that I was back in Oak River.

  Before I could get too far, he stepped forward and wrapped his arms around me, pulling me into his chest...rubbing circles on my back with one hand while his other cradled the back of my head. My arms fell flat against my sides, hands in fists.

  I couldn’t move.

  I couldn’t breathe.

  It felt so good to be in his arms again—to feel him and breathe him in—but it also hurt. It hurt so much. There were so many memories tied to his touch…to his scent…to him. Memories I’d buried deep because the thought of all I’d lost was paralyzing.

  He released me and took a step back, shaking his head. “I’m sorry. I just feel like I’m never going to see you again. I wanted to hold you at least one more time...just in case. I’ve always regretted that, you know?” He looked away, then back. I could barely see him through my tear-blurred eyes, but it looked like his eyes were a bit damp, too. “That day I left…I always wished I’d held you one last time.”

  He walked past me with a sad smile on his face, taking his scent and his warmth and his everything with him. Leaving me in tears…again.

  I wasn’t over Danny Thompson. Not by a long shot.

  - 5 -

  “Dinner’s ready if you want to eat,” Mom called through the closed door of my bedroom. I didn’t answer her and soon heard her soft footsteps moving away. I knew I was hurting her, but I needed to have some time to myself.

  I didn’t say anything to her on the way home from The Diner. I was too upset that she left me alone with Danny. I just sat quietly, wiping the tears I couldn’t get to stop spilling from my eyes. When we’d returned home, I retreated to my room to be alone and to meditate. Mindfulness and meditation were something that helped me when I felt myself getting lost in my emotions or anxiety.

  About two months after our divorce was finalized—six months after Danny walked out—one of the senior partners at my law firm, Janet, staged an intervention. Well, it wasn’t so much an intervention as it was her telling me that I’d better get my shit together or else. Not exactly the softest approach, but the fear of losing my job had caught my attention. It was all I had left, even if I didn’t enjoy it all that much.

  I started therapy and was diagnosed with major depressive disorder as a result of my infertility. No surprise there. I was prescribed antidepressants and saw a shrink for therapy twice a week for several months. Eventually I moved to weekly sessions, then every other week, and now I just checked in on occasion if I felt like I needed to. I’d shown marked improvement after about nine months, and eventually weaned myself off the medication, having never wanted to be on it in the first place, but I wasn’t cured, and I still had triggers. Danny was obviously a big one, but I was armed with tools and techniques to get myself through difficult times.

  At that moment, I was laying on my bed, practicing one of the meditation techniques I enjoyed which involved clenching and releasing my muscles from head to toe. For the most part it was working, and I was finding my happy place: a pink sand beach with clear blue water and palm trees dotting the shoreline. Long ago, I promised myself I would visit this place one day. I had escaped there in my head frequently, but I had no idea where it existed outside of my imagination.

  After a few more minutes of deep breaths and some muscle tightening, I felt a little more human. I rolled off of my childhood bed and checked my appearance in the mirror, all around the edges were photographs of Melissa and I as tweens. I eyed the silver infinity keychain Danny had given me for our one-month anniversary before taking in my appearance. The puffiness under my brown eyes had dissipated some, and they were no longer bloodshot from the tears. I made a quick trip to the bathroom to wash my face, before heading down to the kitchen to have dinner with my parents.

  Growing up, the six of us always ate dinner around the large, formal dining room table. Since it was just me and my folks, dinner was at the smaller kitchen table.

  “Don’t be too hard on your mom,” Dad whispered as I walked by his seat at the table. “She feels awful about what happened this afternoon.”

  I squeezed his shoulder and offered a small smile. “It’s all right. It wasn’t a big deal.” He gave me a look that said he knew I was lying but returned the smile all the same.

  I sidled up to my mother who was standing at the counter moving mixed vegetables from a pot into a serving bowl and rested my head on her shoulder. “I’m sorry if I upset you,” I told her.

  Distancing myself from my family over the years meant they never saw me at my lowest. This afternoon’s crying episode was not my lowest by far, but it rendered my loving parents speechless and at a loss as to what they could do to help me. They’d just never seen me so upset. And my mom was a fixer, so it couldn’t have been easy staying downstairs while one of her children was so upset.

  “No,” Mom started, setting the now empty pot back down on the stovetop. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking about what seeing Danny after all this time would do to you. I thought you two could use a minute to talk. I didn’t think it would upset you. I was wrong, sweetheart.”

  I lifted my head from her shoulder and shook it. “You didn’t do anything wrong, Mom. I just…” have issues, “...wasn’t prepared to see him is all. I haven’t seen him since the divorce. It brought back a lot of memories.”

  It wasn’t a lie. Seeing Danny had brought back a lot of memories. Some good and some bad. None of which I had been ready for. Thinking about him was one of my triggers. Seeing him…well, I wasn’t really sure if there was a rating on the SUDS scale—subjective units of distress, according to my shrink—for that. Externally, I thought I’d handled myself pretty well. Internally, I was a puddle of mush.

  But Mom didn’t need to feel the guilt of that. It wasn’t her fault; it was mine. I’d handled things so poorly near the end of our marriage, and in the years that followed. It was my fault our marriage crumbled, and it was my fault I shrunk into myself and never got appropri
ate closure. Danny had been my best friend, my high school sweetheart, my boyfriend, my lover, and my husband. There was never any animosity between us. Not one time. Not even at the worst of times. We just loved, and then loved harder. It was my absolute indifference in the end that split us up. I’d become numb, lost in my own head.

  Mom gave me a small nod, but I knew she saw right through me. She and my dad were too good at reading their kids.

  I carried the vegetables and rice to the table while Mom carried a large platter of baked chicken. There were only three of us eating tonight, but she cooked for a small army. She had always done that, never knowing when one of us would unexpectedly have a friend over for dinner. We set everything down, took our seats, and began the ritual of passing each of the dishes around so everyone could get their helping. Even though we were sitting at the smaller table and everything could be accessed easily from the middle, we still passed the dishes to one another. The familiarity of the routine was comforting.

  Mom and I told Dad about the condition of the house, and I told him what I’d like to do with it. He made some suggestions and assured me that Michael and his team would do a great job. He pointed out that Michael had done the renovations to their kitchen, and I looked at the room in a new light, proud of my brother. The appliances were all brand new, as were the cabinets and floors, all done in a dark stain. The new window above the sink that looked over the backyard was larger than the previous one; I’d noticed that when washing dishes with Melissa the night before. Despite the rich tones of the walls and floors, the room seemed brighter.

  “That was his idea,” Dad said, noticing my attention was on the window.

  “Looks like it lets in a lot more light,” I observed. Dad nodded as he chewed his food.

  “It does,” Mom said. “Michael and your dad were concerned about the dark colors in the room, but I told them I just had to have the green walls. When I saw that hunter green in the hardware store, I just loved it.”