Page 23 of June: Jess' Story
“When I come back, we’ll start figuring this out, okay?” Heasks and I nod. This gives him time to come up with a strategy. What he’s not banking on is that I’ll be coming up with one, too. Not that I have any idea what that is yet…
After we left the office, I went upstairs to change. Tommy went to the kitchen and I waited until I knew Eden was done with her bottle before resurfacing. Jamie didn’t linger much longer after that.
When they said their goodbyes, I purposely diverted my attention, however it would have been impossible to not hear the sound of them embracing, then kissing farewell. Still makes me feel nauseous to even think about him kissing someone else.
And then, much like a normal day would go, Tommy got ready for work. I drank my coffee and fed Eden some yogurt and raspberries with a handful of cheerios for breakfast.
When Tommy comes down, looking dapper as fuck in his Brunello Cucinelli one-and-a-half breasted suit, I have to avert my gaze because it’s starting to hurt. And hurt leads to sadness, and sadness leads to tears. And I really don’t want to give him that satisfaction. He doesn’t deserve it.
The three of us stand at the threshold of our house,hishouse, and we say our goodbyes. Tommy blows a raspberry on Eden’s belly then leans over to give me a kiss, but I turn, giving him my cheek instead. It’s unfortunate how fast things can fade and change.
He inhales deeply, and I maintain my stoic stance. “I’ll see you tonight?” He asks me what’s normally a statement, but instead comes out as a question. It’s normally,“I’ll see you tonight, babe.”And now it's a question because he’s a smart man. I’d be lying if I said I wasn’t already thinking of a thousand other places I could be between now and when he leaves this weekend. I’d be lying if I said that question didn’t suck balls.
“Nowhere else to be,” I reply with a shrug. He nods, turns to leave, but stops.
Looking back at us, he says, “I love you both.”I won’t say it back.
Instead, I lift Eden’s hand to wave to her dad and say, “Eden loves you, too.” Tommy reads between the lines. He looks crestfallen, but it doesn’t deter him from leaving for the office. Didn’t think it would.
Eden and I trudge back inside and start our own morning routine, but instead of it taking two hours to pick up the toys, make me breakfast, get Eden bathed and dressed, it takes us 45 minutes. It’s amazing how motivating relationship woes can be. I can’t sit still. Sitting still leads to thinking which leads to hurting which leads to sadness which leads to tears.
I willnotsit still.
I take Eden to her Pack ‘n Play that’s still in our primary bathroom, and plop her down withmyiPad while I shower. I spend my time in the shower making a list of all the museums I’ve been wanting to go to, but haven’t gotten around to.Yes, we’ll go to the National Portrait Gallery. Get pizza at Pie. Then we’ll make our way to the sculpture garden. I’ll give Brit a call while Eden naps in the stroller…
As soon as I’m wrapped in a towel, my phone starts vibrating on the edge of my vanity and I immediately swipe to answer. (It’s Britain).And yes! Another distraction.
“Hey, babe. I was just thinking about you!” I say, overly cheery. Should probably tone that down. Don’t want to seem suspicious.
“Hi.” My best friend’s voice comes out weak and trembling, and I know.
“What’s wrong? Is everything okay?” I know Brit, and that meager little voice tells me everything I need to know, except who I need to murder to make everything better.
“Everything is wrong, and nothing is okay,” she cries out. She’s crying so hard. Big gasping breaths that make my heart feel like it’s being squeezed too tight.
“Oh, Britain. I’m sorry. What’s going on?” I’m worried about her. She’s trying so hard to be okay, and it's at her own expense. I hate this for her.
“I,” she cries out again, “I can’t pretend like I’m fine anymore.” She keeps crying.
“Then don’t. Don’t pretend to be fine. You shouldn’t be fine.” (The coded message there is that I shouldn’t be fine either. Noted.)
“I…I dropped the girls off at Sandy’s this morning and she told me Liam called her. And he asked about me. Why?!” She cries, “Why would he do that?!” It comes out half shrill yell half sob.This fucking guy. If Britain would let me, I’d roll up to his front door and unload on him, but she won’t. For whatever reason, she’s still protective of him. Still protecting the guy who dumped her in the middle of a bar, at their engagement party, when she was just 5 weeks pregnant. None of that says this guy is worth protecting, however I do respect her wishes. It’s just getting harder to do so.
What I want to say is, maybe stop hanging around his mom, Sandy. Maybe cut off all ties with him entirely. But Sandy has become something of a surrogate mother to her, and I thinkit would actually hurt her more than running the risk of hearing about him or even potentially running into him. (Him, aka Liam, the guy that destroyed her heart, body, and soul).
No, instead I say, “I have no idea, sweetheart. Is that why you’re so worked up?”
“It’s one of the reasons.” She sniffles. “Jess, I…I’m struggling…to get out of bed in the mornings, and to keep going. It just hurts so bad.” This is worse than the sucker punch, roundhouse-kick to the head, dagger-through-the-heart combo Tommy delivered last night. (That should tell me something right there.) This is so much worse. Guilt, pain, and fear run rampant through me. It only takes me a quick moment before I know what to do.
“I’ll be there tonight. At the latest, tomorrow morning. Okay?” It's a no-brainer.
“Okay.” That meek fucking voice. I hate it on her. I’ll try my best to bolster her up, though. It’s what friends are for. And the deeper I get into this life, the more I realize maybe Jules and May were on to something: Fuck this “men” bullshit. It’s the women in my life who are important. It’s Jules and May, it’s Brit and her girls, it was Amy.
“Everything’s going to be okay. Not right this moment, not even tomorrow,” I try to pepper the truth in, “but soon. Everything will be okay, got it?” I want her to believe me. I need her to.I need myself to.
“Yep,” she sniffles out.
“I’m gonna go book a flight and pack. Are you okay to go to your appointment this afternoon?” Poor babe has her 12-week scan today. She was planning to go alone. I should have been there for her, though. Iwillbe there for her. I owe her. “There's nothing wrong with rescheduling it. In fact, I recommend rescheduling it. Go to the store, get some ice cream.” (Our girl loves her Ben & Jerry’s.) “Then go home and put on Bridgerton.” (Our girl also loves a period drama. Bridgerton is the only one I’ll watch with her.) “Before you can even get to Queen Charlotte, I’ll be there.” I hope she takes my advice. I hope she takes a day to let herself be sad.