GREY CLOUDS SWIRL OVERHEAD, mirroring the misery in my heart.
Is that dramatic?
I don’t know anymore.
It’s all blurring together inside me. What’s an overreaction? What’s a valid red flag?
I debate calling Doc and then decide not to. It’s hard to pinpoint these conflicting emotions. How do I expect him to pick up the threads when they’re all tangled together anyway? I’m the only one who can untangle them and follow it to the end.
My fingers curl around the cash register. Thunder booms in the distance, warning that the storm is fast approaching.
Customers smile. Chatter.
Coffee pours like beer in a keg party.
I’m so removed from this moment that my surroundings have faded.
Almost as if someone made the world around me transparent.
My argument with Jerrison plays on a loop in my mind. I want to blame him.
Sometimes, I want to blame myself.
I’m the one who’s broken. I’m the one in need of repair. The gut instincts. The woman’s intuition. The tiny voice in my head that’s supposed to yell something’s not right-it failed me.
For all the years of my marriage, that intuition didn’t shout loud enough, raise enough alarm bells, push enough notifications to my phone so I’d take action.
I stayed.
In misery. I stayed.
In heartache.
Because I was supposed to. Because failure scared me.
Because the voices were easily drowned out by the brief glimpses of my husband’s humanity.
It took working with Doc to convince me I should demand respect. Raise my standards. Say ‘no more’ to the behavior I’d learned to put up with. But somewhere between amplifying my intuition and chasing my independence, I broke the dial that’s meant to control my suspicions.
Now, I can’t turn that voice off. Jaded. Jumpy.
Every little creak, every cry, every sigh-I make note of it.
No, I do more than that. I jump on it. Blow it up. Amplify the sound so it becomes a bright, neon light shining in my face. Back away before you break your heart again.
I’m skittish.
Is that a bad thing? Is that anything to be ashamed of? Play me once, shame on you. Play me twice…
I don’t need a return-ticket to a nightmare of a marriage. I’ve tasted freedom. Tasted the satisfaction of turning my own key and living a lonely but peaceful existence. I don’t want tears on my pillow, expectations that get dashed aside, and aches that start in my chest and spread outward.
Even if I love him, I’m over getting hurt. Why should I apologize for that?
“Boss, are you okay?” My assistant manager peers at me with big brown eyes.
“I’m fine, Nancy.” I force a smile. “Looks like it’s going to rain.”
“That doesn’t seem to be stopping the customers.” Nancy juts her chin at the crowd dining in the bakery. Business has been booming since my last celebrity event.
The door opens again. Jerrison enters the shop wearing a long-sleeve button-down over a white T-shirt. Fitted jeans stop just above pristine, white sneakers. It’s the kind of outfit that doesn’t look expensive, but each individual piece costs an exorbitant amount.
My heart jumps to my throat when his eyes barrel into mine. The breathlessness lasts for a second before I remember what he did last night.
My gaze snaps away.
He approaches the counter. “Harriet, can we talk?”
“Not now, Jerrison.” I pour my anger on the cash register and slam it open, pretending I need to inspect what’s inside.
Nancy gulps. “I… uh… I’ll be over there.” She skitters to the other end of the counter, not bothering to hide her curious stare.
Jerrison’s cologne wafts to my nose. It’s fresh. Earthy. Sandalwood? Even though there’s an entire counter separating us, he’s too close. Too appealing.
“We have nothing to talk about.” I try to chase him away before he wears me down. “So you should stop wasting your time.”
He glances around the shop. “Can you spare me a minute when things slow down?”
“I’ll be busy until closing.” “We can talk after.”
“No.” I glare at him. “We don’t need to talk at all.”
I wait for the tick in his jaw, the clench of his fingers, or the snarl of his pink lips. It doesn’t come. There’s only a slight flicker of agitation before he breathes out deeply and seems to sort through his own thoughts.
“Okay,” Jerrison says. “I’ll wait over there.”
“I’d prefer if you didn’t.” My voice surprises me. Have I always been this cold? The tone sits uncomfortably in the air for a moment.
Jerrison glances at the floor. “Alright.”
The nerves in my stomach tighten. I want to call out to him. Bring him back. Return to a sweeter place. But I keep remembering Jerrison’s cavalier attitude when he agreed to lie to Patrick’s wife.
It didn’t bother him.
Not his friend cheating. And not him participating in the act by lying on Patrick’s behalf.
I can’t forget his deceit. It’s still there. It’s still a part of him. How can I trust that?
Jerrison gets in his car and drives away.
My heart leaves with him, but I force myself to focus on the customers. There’s only an hour until closing. As soon as work is over, I’m heading to
my apartment and falling into a tub of ice cream. Screw a balanced and healthy diet. I’ll let it all go tonight.
About twenty minutes later, I’m ringing up a customer’s tab when I feel a nudge in my side.
“Boss,” Nancy whispers, pointing to the window. “What’s he doing?” “What do you mean…” My jaw drops when I glance up. Jerrison is
standing outside with a sign that reads ‘I’m sorry, Harriet’. Disbelieving laughter tumbles from my mouth. “Is he insane?”
The customers have begun to notice him too. Murmurs rise to the ceiling, floating on their excitement and curiosity.
‘Who’s Harriet?’
‘I wonder what he did?’
The answer would be… cheated on me for years, but they don’t need to know that.
Adjusting my emotions so the anger is firmly at the front, I stalk to the window and jam a finger in my husband’s direction.
He turns the poster board around.
I love you, Harriet.
My heart skips a beat.
Have mercy. I can’t be this weak.
He agreed to lie on Patrick’s behalf. He’s still a liar.
I have to remember that.
Whirling around, I stomp to Nancy and growl, “Tell him to go away.” “Are you sure you want me to do that?” She blinks nervously.
“Did I stutter?” I snap.
“No, ma’am. I’ll let him know.”
My assistant manager skitters around the counter.
By the time she returns, I’m contrite. “Sorry for barking at you,” I say. “I shouldn’t have done that.”
“It’s okay.” She worries her bottom lip.
My gaze slides past her to the window where Jerrison is still standing with the sign. Only this time, he’s turned it to another page. ‘You are the best thing in my life’.
A smile flirts with the corner of my lips.
I push it back and whirl on Nancy who cowers before me. “Why is he still there? Didn’t you tell him to leave?”
“He said he’s not on our property.” She gestures to the window. “And that he’s allowed to stand on the sidewalk.”
I blow out an aggravated breath.
“Should I… call the police?” She squeaks.
“No.” I answer too fast. “I mean, he’s not hurting anybody.”
Nancy relaxes into a smile. “It’s kind of cute, isn’t it?” She twirls a thick braid around her finger. “Tacky, but cute.”
“Get back to work,” I murmur, hurrying away.
Jerrison’s sign remains turned to the ‘I love you, Harriet’ page while I scurry around the bakery, helping customers and ringing up purchases.
A minute passes.
Then two.
Then ten.
Lightning flashes outside.
Shadows crawl through the street.
The clouds burst open and rain lashes the roof ferociously. I glance outside.
Jerrison is still there.
His white T-shirt is getting soaked, but he doesn’t seem all that concerned. Instead, he’s using his button-down to cover the poster, so the ink doesn’t run. Despite his efforts, the message turns into an inky mess.
“That poor guy,” one of the customers mumbles from a nearby table, “he’s shivering.”
He’s going to get himself sick. Marching to the window, I gesture for him to leave. He stares stubbornly at me as if daring me to come out and tell him myself. I tilt my head and groan at the ceiling.
What is wrong with this man?
I wrestle with what to do next. Fury isn’t ready to leave me, but I can’t ignore the sight of my husband, shivering in the rain while a storm beats his head like a drum.
Striding to the counter, I stick a hand out at Nancy. “Give me an umbrella.”
“What?” She peers up at me like I spoke another language.
I shake my hand to convey my urgency. “An umbrella, Nancy.”
“I don’t have an umbrella.” She blinks. “I-I can ask one of the customers…”
“Forget it.” Whirling around, I swipe a food tray from the counter and run outside.
Jerrison’s eyes light up when he sees me. It’s pathetic how my heart breaks and flutters all at the same time.
Just as quickly as his eyes shine with welcome, they darken in reproach. “What are you doing out here, woman?” He hauls off his jacket and places it above my head. It does nothing to stop the rain. In fact, the cloth is so water-logged, it pours more water on me.
“Why don’t you wait in the car?” I scream over the thunder and lightning.
“I’m staying right here until you see me.” “You’re crazy!”
“Harriet, we need to talk.”
“Here.” I shove the tray into his stomach, wincing as water runs into my eyes.
He grunts. “What’s this?”
“I don’t feel sorry for you and I won’t ask you to come inside.”
He tilts his head, using one hand to wipe away the water on his face. “Put it over your head.” I shove the tray into his hands and step back.
“If you really want to talk…” My lips tremble from the cold, “come see me after closing.”