Page 58 of Love Among Vines

CHAPTER FORTY-SEVEN

JADE

Two days had passed since her flight from the Finger Lakes.

After a somewhat harrowing five-hour drive during which she had nearly leapt out of her car and screamed at another driver for following her too closely, she had arrived home without further incident.

Rett’s car was in an overpriced garage in the Bronx, but at least she didn’t have to see it every day.

It was strange to be back in the city, as if she had never left on that fateful trip to the doomed wedding. It felt like years had passed since the disastrous union of Ashley and Nate, even though it had been a matter of weeks.

Despite leaving the town that returned it to her, her muse tingle didn’t disappear. Visions and images haunted all her waking and sleeping moments, begging to be transferred to canvas. A notebook next to her bed was littered with half-sketched ideas that would hopefully one day translate to canvas.

Some peculiar source of inspiration had washed over her. It was hard to describe in words, so she kept her titles short.

Rebirth. Karma. Feminist. Self-worth. They probably wouldn’t be the permanent titles of these chaotic mixed media pieces, but they felt true.

Her experience in the Finger Lakes had pulled some kind of cosmic cork out of her. Everything she had bottled up since the day her world had shattered was pouring out.

Her parents, the crescent moon clinging to the cityscape outside her window, a tipped-over trashcan on the street outside. Everything was an inspiration. It couldn’t have been more different from when she had left.

Was it the change of scenery? Something in the water or soil? Was it learning to open her heart again? Whatever it was, she’d be forever grateful that she had taken the risk.

Jade slid her headphones on and went for a run on her old route, Penny in tow. It was almost nice to be back on flat ground instead of fighting the never-ending hills and dips of Hammondsport.

But it wasn’t the same without Rett’s labored breathing beside her, panting and swearing. And then there was the scenery—as much as she loved the bodega down the block and the restaurants in her neighborhood, it just wasn’t as beautiful as sunrise on the lake.

She sighed and quickened her pace, heading north to Central Park. There were a couple of lakes there. Maybe that would be enough to fill the holes in her heart.

Her feet pounded the pavement, canvasing the familiar park. She and Nate had picnicked on the grass by the carousel. Her mother had taken her on weekend walks here while her dad was at work.

This place, the city and the surrounding areas, had been the only home she’d ever known.

But it wasn’t the same. She ached for the clean air and amber leaves.

The empty roads, the small-town pace, and familiar faces.

She had been in Hammondsport for less than a month and she had met half the town.

But when she ended her run and clambered back up the steps to the fourteenth floor, she didn’t recognize the woman locking the apartment next door.

Maybe a change of neighborhood would do her some good. After a shower and breakfast from her favorite café—yikes, she really needed to cut back on the spending—she took the train over to an apartment with an opening in January she had found the night before.

Throggs Neck. A hilarious name, to be sure.

She didn’t know much about the area, but Philip Avenue seemed, by all accounts, safe.

She turned around on the front stoop and took in the street.

She was a block back from the bay, which was a nice change of scenery.

But the gray water didn’t look anything like the lake she had come to love.

And there was no grass, only a handful of trees next to the apartment building.

The door opened behind her, and she shrieked.

“Sorry.” A middle-aged man chuckled behind the door. “You must be Jade?”

“Yes. Sorry for screaming in your face.”

“Happens all the time. I’m Chuck. Care to come in?”

She took a moment to memorize him—deep laugh lines surrounding warm brown eyes, NYU sweatshirt, trusty pair of white New Balances. Just in case he ended up trying to imprison and murder her. Couldn’t be too careful.

Chuck walked her through the apartment, explaining amenities and rent procedures.

“So you’re an artist?” he asked. “I sure would love to brag about having an artist-in-residence.”

“I am.” For the first time in forever, the words were true. “The apartment’s beautiful,” she said.

It was almost twice the size of her current place.

There was a decent amount of natural light, more than enough space for all of her current belongings plus room for her art supplies.

Maybe it didn’t have the shabby chic adorableness of her cottage by the lake, or all the amenities of her neighborhood in Midtown. But she had fared with far less.

“Thank you. We put a lot of work into these. It’s someone’s home, so it should feel like it. I did bring the lease along if you’re interested in signing today. Either way, I’ll need to know by Monday.”

The “yes” was on the tip of Jade’s tongue. It was, theoretically, perfect. A reasonable rate, no roommate, a short train ride to Manhattan and everything it had to offer. So what was holding her back?

In her heart, she knew it was because it wasn’t Hammondsport.

Against all odds, she had envisioned a whole life in that sleepy, quirky town.

She could practically feel the thrum of an energized home team crowd at future homecoming games.

It was easy to imagine her daughter or son’s first art show at the local high school, attending festivals on Rett’s arm.

Maybe her own studio and gallery on the town square, a stone’s throw from Margie’s Café.

Lazy afternoons spent on the lake, steamy evenings on the rooftop of the winery.

It was like a life she could look at behind glass. It was beautiful, but it wasn’t real. Even so, she couldn’t bring herself to throw it all away just yet.

Jade collected her thoughts and straightened her shoulders. “I have a great feeling about this place. I’ll let you know by Monday,” she said.

“Suit yourself,” Chuck said. “If you need a great lunch spot, Wicked Wolf is about a mile that way.” He gestured into the distance with a slightly crooked index finger.

“Good tip.” She waved goodbye and stepped outside. Almost as if on cue, her stomach growled. Maybe a sampling of the local fare wouldn’t hurt.

She pulled up the address for the restaurant on her phone and aimlessly followed the directions.

Could this be her new neighborhood? It was quiet and unassuming, refreshingly middle-class based on the cars parked all around.

The near-constant cacophony of sirens in the city was absent here.

In the summer, it might even be charming.

A decent place to raise a family, if it ever came to that.

An hour later, she washed her hands in the ladies' room in the pub. Chuck had been right. She could get used to having this warm, eclectic restaurant in her backyard. Her reflection caught her eye in the long, rectangular mirror over the sink. Physically she looked fine, but the bags under her eyes didn’t lie.

And something else drew her attention too—the stupid ice skate tattoo under her collarbone.

Images of Nate flashed through her mind. His fake remorse in the kitchen of what should have been their shared apartment. His condescending looks at his rehearsal dinner. Countless trips and adventures and galas.

He had taken so much from her. And lied the entire time.

Had she even really taken the time to process that?

The person she had thought she would spend the rest of her life with had been screwing around behind her back with her best friend.

It should have been obvious from the start.

But she was blinded by her love for him.

But no more.

She dried her hands and thrust the door open. It was time to remove this last tie to Nate and that dark time.

She looked up the nearest tattoo parlor that took walk-ins and strode off in that direction.

A few blocks away, she popped open the front door of a parlor.

A bell rang above her. She was immediately immersed in the dark, atmospheric space that kind of looked like it had been decorated by Spencer’s.

The Rob Zombie poster on the wall stared back at her.

The smell of citrus was sharp in the air.

A man looked up from behind the counter.

He had a septum piercing, two sleeves full of what appeared to be gothic versions of Disney princesses, and, alarmingly, an orange covered in rose imagery.

“You here for a tat?” he asked.

She nodded.

“Take a seat. There’s a special on lower back tattoos this month,” he said.

“How about coverups?” She showed him the ice skates.

“Easy,” he said nonchalantly.

She could only imagine what Rett would have to say about her latest impulse decision.

He’d probably lecture her for forty minutes for not comparing costs between different parlors, let alone checking out reviews for someone who was about to permanently change her appearance.

Pre-Rett, she wouldn’t have given such an impulse a second thought.

But maybe she should give this some thought.

“Do you have some examples of previous works?” she asked.

“Book’s over there.” He was a man of few words. He gestured at a black binder on the counter.

She picked it up and flicked through several pages.

A sigh of relief slipped between her lips.

What he lacked in conversation skills he clearly made up for in artistic ability.

His work ranged from phrases written in departed family member’s handwriting to floral works to watercolor, symbols, even cat tattoos. Satisfied, she closed the book.

He sat down and wheeled over to her. “Decided?”

She searched on her phone for a few minutes and showed him a map of Keuka Lake. “What can you do with this? But maybe with a sunflower element at the bottom,” she added. The café’s front door and Rett’s first bouquet burned in her mind.

“Consider it done.”

He set to prepping his tools, and she walked out with stinging skin and a brand-new tattoo an hour later.

It was everything she had needed in the moment.

Even though her time away was now a bittersweet memory, it had given her so much life and purpose that the good eclipsed the bad.

Gone were the ice skates and mistakes of her past.

Invigorated by this physical cleansing, she pulled out her phone and opened a folder with dating apps. If she wasn’t careful, she would be tempted to backslide to her old ways. She couldn’t even imagine climbing into bed with a stranger right now.

One by one, she deleted her accounts. It was time to put the one-night stands behind her. She wasn’t going to find her future husband on Wink or Tinder. All she could do was trust that the universe would put him in her path when she was ready.

She took a deep breath and surveyed her surroundings. Maybe Throggs Neck wouldn’t be so bad. A fresh start was exactly what she needed.