Oh, shit—my birth control pills. I remember taking them out of the nightstand drawer. Did I leave them on the bed? I was so distracted throwing things into suitcases before Jack Henry could come home for a lunchtime romp. Stupid, you told yourself to not forget them and you did anyway.
There's nothing I can do about it now. I'll run by the pharmacy as soon as I get home. I'll be two days behind by the time I'm able to get my hands on another pack. Taking more than one at a time is gonna make me feel blah—that extra dose of hormones always does that to me—but it should at least keep me from being pregnant. Maybe.
I look at my phone in my hand and I can't help myself—I have to see his face now that I don't have Addison interpreting my every move. I look at the first picture I ever took of Jack Henry. It's the one where he's driving us to Avalon, the top down on the convertible after we went into town for condom shopping. I giggle aloud as I remember my shock at seeing how many he bought. I look around the terminal to see if anyone is looking at me like I'm crazy. I don't care—maybe I am a little on the mental side. If I'm not today, I have a feeling I will be before much longer.
I disembark in Nashville and see the top of my mom's blond head in the distance. She's tall so she's easy to spot and I'm relieved to see she's alone. I almost expected her to have him with her, although deep down, I knew it was an unrealistic possibility.
She wraps me in her arms and I realize I need her in a way I never have before. I long to tell her everything about Jack Henry. I want her to reassure me that it's all going to be okay. Even if it's a lie, I'm desperate for her to tell me I'll go on and one day be fine without him.
"Mmm," she groans as she squeezes tightly. "I'm happy to have my girl back."
"I missed you, Mom. It's good to be home."
She steps back but holds on to my hands, stretching my arms to study me. "You look different, Laurie."
She has no idea how different I am from the girl she saw three months ago. "I'm tanned."
"Yes, you got a lot of color, but that's not it."
I don't know what she thinks is physically different about me. It's not possible for her to see the pain in my heart. "You're right. There's a lot that's different about me now."
"And I can't wait to hear all about it. How about a late lunch? You can tell me everything."
"Sure. Sounds great."
She takes me to my favorite Mexican restaurant and my mouth begins to water when I smell the spicy aroma coming from the kitchen. It's a hole in the wall but the food is authentic. I've missed it. Since it's midafternoon, they're not busy and we take our usual booth in the corner. "Laurie, I have some wonderful news."
I guess that means she's going first and what I have to say about Australia and Jack Henry will wait until she's finished. "Okay. I'm listening."
"It's about me and your dad." She looks ecstatic so I'm guessing he's given her some sort of attention or sign of affection. If that's what this is about, she's pathetic. And I'm following right in her footsteps. "You know he came to see me while you were in Australia…"
"Yeah. You said he wanted to meet me."
"And he did. He still does. But things between us have changed while you've been away. We've reconnected."
Reconnected. That translates into one thing: she's sleeping with him again and judging from that stupid grin on her face, she couldn't be happier about it. "What about his wife?"
I can see that she doesn't care much for me asking about Mrs. Beckett. "He doesn't love her. He might have very early in their marriage, but that was a lifetime ago."
And that's why he's married to her instead of you. "And I guess he always loved us and it was agony pretending we didn't exist for the past twenty-three years."
I'm being a total bitch and I should stop. I'm certain I'd be as big a fool if Jack Henry showed up in my life years down the road. It probably wouldn't matter to me if he was married. I'm sure I'd crawl into his bed if he asked me to. "I'm sorry, Mom. That was a terrible thing for me to say. I'm really happy for you. I hope he gives you everything you've wanted all these years."
Our conversation is one-sided. I listen to her go on and on about my father, as though she's my best friend from high school talking about her boyfriend. It's uncomfortable. I don't want to hear about my mom doing a married man—or any man at all—even if he is my father.
She never once mentions Australia, so I don't, either. This is just another fine example of the way my mom puts herself before everyone—except him. He will always come first.
I needed her to act like a mother today—to listen and guide me—but as usual, I'm playing the role of her confidante. And it hurts. "You know what, Mom? I'm really exhausted after my flight. Can you take me to my apartment and we'll talk about this later?"
"Of course, baby."
But she doesn't wait until later to talk about him. She continues telling me things I don't want to know about their relationship and I stare out the window trying to drown out the things she's saying.
My phone alerts me to a text message. Addison.
*Make it home ok?*
I quickly thumb a reply as I ignore the things my mom is saying about my dad.
*On way to apt now*
There's almost no delay in Addison's response.
*Love U. Call if U need anything.*
Maybe I should've gone home with her instead of coming back to Nashville. I'm definitely rethinking that decision as Jolie goes on and on about her affair with Jake Beckett.
*U2 & I will. But I'm ok.*
I couldn't resist adding that last part.
My mom helps me with my luggage and I immediately notice how stagnant the apartment smells. I'll need to open windows tomorrow and air the place out.
Thankfully, Jolie doesn't stick around. I've heard way more than I want to about her and my sperm donor.
I shut the door after she leaves and the clicking sound of the deadbolt confirms I'm completely alone. I lean against the door and look around. Nothing has changed. The brown leather sofa is right where we left it pushed against the wall. The beige carpet still looks freshly vacuumed. But one thing has changed—I'm not the same person I was when I was here last. I had no idea what it was to desperately love or to be devastatingly hurt. Now, I know both.
I don't know how long I stand there with my back pressed against the front door. It could've been seconds, or maybe hours. Elements of time are indistinguishable in the dark place I've entered without Jack Henry in my life.
At some point, I become a pathetic pile on the floor, my cheek pressed against the cold ceramic tile. I squeeze the tip of my nose because it's freezing and I shiver against the cold March wind blowing through the open space at the bottom of the doorjamb. I sit up to look out the window. It's getting dark, so it's only going to get colder as the sun goes down.