He didn’t tell me until after the fact that he’d gone to Greenfield to meet with him. That was almost two weeks ago. Two weeks since my last chance to see Jake flew right on by without me even knowing about it.
Now there’s just a constant ache and an ever-present sense of melancholy that I can’t shake. It’s like nothing that used to matter is very important anymore, and nothing that used to make me happy even gets me out of bed.
My parents have called dozens of times. I always answer and chat with them, but they’re astute enough to know that something is terribly wrong. But they’re also astute enough not to make a single comment about Jake.
Other than that, it’s me and Shane and my job here. Tori is back in Greenfield. She’s my only real friend, as I hadn’t lived here long enough before my breakup with Shane to make any more. Not that they would be much help now, anyway. There’s only one person who could possibly make me feel better.
And he’s long gone.
My phone rings again, stopping me from giving in to the threat of another round of tears. It’s Tori this time.
“Thank God,” I say by way of greeting.
“I know I’m the answer to prayer, woman, but damn!” she teases.
“Today, you really are.” This time my sigh is one of relief. “You’re not in town, are you?”
I’m hoping she’ll say yes, but I’ve learned to live with disappointment.
“No, but in just a few seconds, I’m gonna be begging you to come to me instead. Why don’t you save me the groveling and just tell me you’ll come home, okay? Okay!”
I can’t help but smile. I miss my friend. “You know, simply in the interest of helping you to preserve your dignity, I think I can manage that. But just this once. I’m not a fan of missing out on begging. Next time, it may cost you twice as much.”
“Duly noted,” she says easily. “I’ll bring my kneepads next time.”
“Wise choice,” I say with a giggle. “So, what is it that is so important that you’d beg me to come home?”
“Umm, if I told you, I’d have to kill you. And I love you too much to harm one lovely golden hair, so . . . there you go.”
“Lucky for you, I don’t need much of a reason to visit you. Mind if I borrow your couch?”
“Still avoiding the parents?”
“No, not really. I just think space is a good thing. I didn’t cut the apron strings too well the first time around. This time, I’m not making the same mistake.”
“Finally! Ohmigod! Boy, this summer sure was good for you, Laney.” As much as I love Tori, and even though I’ve forgiven her for the stuff with Shane, I still haven’t really felt comfortable talking to her about Jake. At least not about how my life is like a barren wasteland without him. I haven’t told anybody that. It feels almost like, if I keep it a secret, it’ll just go away and not be this way anymore. Eventually.
If only . . .
“Yeah, I did a lot of growing this year, didn’t I?”
“You sure did. And all for the better, I might add.”
I’m glad when I hear the front door open. I’m sure that’s Shane. Just in time to rescue me from a torturous conversation about how wonderful this summer was.
It seems that, no matter how hard I try, I can’t forget how wonderful it was.
But sometimes I wish I could.
“I’ve gotta go, Tori, but I’ll see you home tomorrow night, okay?”
“Sounds good. Meet you here around seven. The key’s under the mat if you get here before I get home.”
“Okay, see you soon.”
“Be safe.”
“Yes, ma’am.”
“You know that’s right,” Tori says before making a kissing noise and then hanging up.
“Who was that?” Shane asks as he saunters through my office door.
“Just Tori.”
“Mmm,” he murmurs neutrally. “Ready?”
“As ready as I’ll ever be,” I say, wondering how I ever thought this man was enough to make me happy.
You didn’t really know yourself at all back then, did you?
No, I sure didn’t.
THIRTY: Jake
You still wanting overtime?
A text from the fire chief.
Hell yeah!
Keeping busy is tantamount to staying sane, but I can only stand being at the house by myself for so long. It’s not really that I’m lonely per se; it’s more that I see Laney everywhere and it’s getting harder and harder to stay there without her. To cook in the kitchen, to watch television on the couch, to shower in my bathroom. To sleep in my bed. She’s everywhere. I can’t escape her. Even when I sometimes want to.
Come on in at 6 then. 48-hour shift. May end up being longer.
I make a mental note to myself to fill up Einstein’s dispensers in the barn. Just thinking about them reminds me of Laney’s surprise that he used them.
She had been under the very mistaken impression that I just left my dog to fend for himself. She tried to cover by saying she then concluded maybe one of the neighbors was feeding him. When I told her about the system I’d rigged up, she didn’t believe me so I took her out into the barn and showed her.
The contraptions are really nothing more than levers that release a premeasured amount of food and water down into bowls, respectively.
“See,” I’d told her. “Einstein just walks up and high-fives the lever, and he gets fed and watered. There’s enough in here to last him at least a week if he’s not a total pig.”
“You’re telling me that your dog is smart enough to come in here when he’s hungry, press these levers, and get his own food and water?”
“That’s exactly what I’m telling you.”
“And you expect me to believe that?”
I grinned at her. She was so uptight back then. But over the summer, it’s like she opened up. Just for me. Like a flower to the rain. She needed me in order to see who she really was, to see how beautiful and perfect she was deep down, past all the outward appearances and polite ways. What she never knew was that I saw it all along. She was always perfect to me, inside and out.
I whistled and called for the dog. “Einstein! Come!” It was still early so I figured he’d be around somewhere close, probably staying cool in the shade under the house or in one of the barns.
After a few minutes, Einstein showed up, tongue lolling to one side. “Good boy,” I praised him, wooling his fuzzy, white head. “Get a drink, Einie. Drink!”