Page 59 of The Best Man: Unfinished Business

Chapter Thirty-six

Jordan

The sound of layered guitars filled Jordan’s otherwise empty home as the sneaky beginning of the Gap Band’s “Yearning for Your Love” cascaded through her surround sound speakers.

You can’t keep running in and outta my liiiife.

“Shut the fuck up, Charlie Wilson,” Jordan muttered back at the voice singing to her.

For four days following her debacle with Evelyn, Jordan had been nearly immobile in her bed surrounded by her plushy down comforter and large pillows.

The big-ass arrangement of unimaginative roses she’d received from Harper had already started to droop and rot from their position by her door, unmoved from the moment she dragged them inside.

If she hadn’t wanted to keep people out of her business, she would have left them at her roadside door, right where the Malibu florist deposited them.

Her shades were drawn, and food delivery boxes littered her overflowing bedroom garbage can.

If she had the energy to roll over and find her phone, she’d fast-forward the song immediately.

As with nearly everything, it made her think of Harper, and fuck Charlie Wilson for singing so well as to compound her feelings.

It hadn’t just been her playlist of songs trying to reach her.

Despite several texts and voicemails from Shelby, Dr. Clark, and of course Harper, Jordan had responded to no one.

Shelby’s last message an hour ago was a threat to send the police for a wellness check.

Jordan couldn’t remember when she last showered or when she even looked in a mirror.

She didn’t want to see the woman who looked like she felt and certainly didn’t want the police to either.

She struggled to find her phone, first to stop that fucking song from playing, and second to send a preemptive note to Shelby.

I’m fine.

Shelby wrote back immediately, wanting proof of life.

Show me, read Shelby’s text.

Jordan typed back, No.

Then I’m getting on a plane.

Jordan sighed heavily. Shelby, I’m fine.

Bullshit. Let me see. Send me a picture. Callme.

Then Shelby’s face showed up on Jordan’s phone screen. Of course she declined her call.

Pick up.

I’m not facetiming with you, Jordan typed back.

Shelby rang again. Jordan declined again.

I’m going to keep calling.

Jordan rolled her eyes, knowing that if one person would make good on the threat to take a cross-country trip to break into her place, it was Shelby. “Fuuuuuuuuck!” Jordan yelled into the air.

Hold on!!

The texts stopped for a moment. Jordan took a big swig of water, swished it around in her cruddy mouth.

She swallowed to coat her throat so she wouldn’t sound like death warmed over.

Jordan briefly thought about turning off her phone but reminded herself that wouldn’t work, not with Shelby.

Best to let Shelby talk, let her hear her voice.

After a deep sigh Jordan dialed back. Shelby picked up immediately.

“Hey.”

“Hi,” Jordan responded.

“Oh my God, you sound terrible.”

Jordan sighed loudly. “That’s why I didn’t want to talk.”

“Okay. I’m sorry. I’m just worried about you.” Shelby was showing her soft side again. If Jordan could smile—even just a little bit—she would.

“Thanks, Shelby. I’m okay though.” After Jordan’s string of monosyllabic answers to Shelby’s inquiries about her well-being, she wanted the tea.

What happened with Harper? Jordan wasn’t really in the mood to rehash but she was going to put Shelby on a clock.

“What was so urgent that he had to leave?”

“Something with his daughter,” Jordan said flatly.

“Well, you can’t blame him for that. He’s a parent. And his daughter was eight thousand miles away, J.” Shelby’s explanation was accurate, but annoying.

“I know that. Everything in me knows that’s the logical reason and answer. Still…”

“Well, he’s coming back, right?”

“I don’t know. He left. I don’t care.”

“Judging from how you sound, you care.” Shelby paused. Jordan didn’t object. “I bet if he rang your doorbell you would care.” Jordan pulled her phone away from her to look atit.

“He hasn’t rung the doorbell, so I wouldn’t know. Not that I want to have a pity party,” Jordan said.

“So why are you? You sound like hell. You haven’t answered the phone. You’re wallowing. Why?” Shelby pressed her.

Jordan didn’t have an immediate answer. “I don’t know.

” Jordan’s voice wobbled and began to break.

Tears started to flood her eyes. She cried without speaking for thirty seconds and Shelby let her.

She gave her space. Then through tears and staccato breaths Jordan confessed, “I’m fucked up, Shelby.

I’m really fucked up, but the answer isn’t waiting on Harper. ” Jordan sniffed with a heavy inhale.

“Ohhh, honey. You’re right it’s not.” Shelby’s love and concern flowed through the phone. “Are you sure I can’t come there? We’ll get dressed, have some spa time, get some retail therapy.”

“No. I don’t want that. I don’t want to do anything.” Jordan hated how pathetic she sounded. Shelby was one of the last people she wanted to be vulnerable with, but she was giving Jordan grace. To a point.

“Jordan, I know you’re working through this, but… this isn’t you,” Shelby warned. “Look, go through your process, get it all out, a good cry is necessary, but don’t stay there. Get some air, get some exercise, get some sun, and stop listening to sad music.”

Jordan really did hope Harper would ring her buzzer, and stop sending words, flowers, and promises.

But she wasn’t going to beg him to come back.

She’d practically begged him to stay. She had begged him to stay.

He was either going to show up for her or not.

Either way she was giving him her ass to kiss.

“I hear you,” Jordan said. “I gotta go.”

“Okay…” Shelby sounded hesitant. “Are you at least keeping your appointments with Dr. Clark?”

Dr. Clark? Shit. Jordan did some quick math thinking back to when she’d had her last appointment. She’d canceled when Harper was visiting, and then after he left, canceled again. “My next appointment is in two days, Shelby.”

“Good. And check in with me too, or I swear to God, forty-eight hours from now, I’m going to be in your bed with you.”

“Fine. Goodbye, Shelby.” Jordan hung up the phone without waiting.

She knew Shelby was right, but it all sounded exhausting.

Sure, she couldn’t stay stuck, but she just felt so heavy.

She didn’t want to move, get dressed, or socialize.

Not even wash herself. And she didn’t have to.

It almost made her miss the pull of work, when she was required to split how she felt from what she did.

Based on how she felt now, she just wanted to be, to float, to exist. Jordan didn’t know who the fuck she was right now. And she had to find out.

“Hi, Dr. Clark.” Jordan tried to sound as cheery as she could two days later.

She’d kept her appointment but changed it to telehealth to try to keep her promise to Shelby.

Baby-steps, she thought. Seeing Dr. Clark on a smaller screen was somehow a bit more intimidating than seeing her in person.

That didn’t seem possible. And there was no candle.

“Hello, Jordan. Is everything okay?” Dr. Clark inquired through the screen with those stylish fucking glasses. What the fuck? Why is she starting with that?

“Everything’s fine. Why do you ask?” Jordan used her best “curious why you ask” voice.

“Well, you’ve missed our last few sessions and now for the first time ever, we’re meeting via video. Why haven’t you been to see me?” Dr. Clark asked.

“Oh, I’ve, y’know, just been busy. Lots going on,” Jordan lied.

“Are you prioritizing your health and yourself?” Dr. Clark probed in her unique way.

“Oh, yes, journaling, that sort of thing,” Jordan lied again. She hadn’t written a word since Harper left.

“Mmmm. Any new revelations?” Dr. Clark asked.

Sure. I unlocked painful memories about my childhood that I haven’t dealt with. I’m in love with a man who I’ve loved my entire adult life, who opened my heart, filled it with love, intimacy, joy, and then left an open wound.

“No. Not really,” Jordan said as casually as she could. She looked at the time. She still had almost the full hour togo.

Dr. Clark stared at Jordan through the phone and inhaled audibly. “I see. So, how can I help you today, Jordan?”

“Ummm, I don’t know. I was just checking in. It’s been a while.” Jordan stalled as cheerfully as she could.

“Why don’t you come in? I’d really like to see you.”

Jordan’s stomach churned.

“Ohh, yeah. Of course. Sure. I-I-I’d like to see you too. But video feels pretty good though,” Jordan stammered through her reply.

“Well, I can barely see you.” Dr. Clark leaned in toward the screen. “Are you on your phone? Are you in your bed?”

What is this, an interrogation?

“I’m minding my fucking business, mind yours,” Jordan snapped. Shit. Whatever small movements Dr. Clark had been exhibiting before this moment came to an abrupt stop and her eyes froze on the screen. Oh shit, did I say that out loud?

“I’m sorry. I’m so sorry. I’m just…I’m, oh God…” Jordan thought their connection may have been lost with how expressionless Dr. Clark had become. “I just, I don’t know why I said that.” Dr. Clark stayed motionless. “Hello?” Jordan inquired.

After another beat, Dr. Clark blinked slowly, took a short inhale, and licked her lips.

“Jordan…I understand.” Dr. Clark’s voice came out measured and remarkably calm.

Meanwhile, Jordan’s heart was beating quickly, racing with panic.

She wasn’t ready, wasn’t herself. Needed…

out. “Setting boundaries is necessary. We’ve been working on that.

But if you put them up with me, I can’t help you.

” Jordan felt the stinging in her eyes. She wasn’t about to do that. She couldn’t.

“You know what, you’re right,” Jordan responded quickly. “You’re absolutely right.” Dr. Clark nodded and waited for Jordan to continue. She did. “I can’t do this on the phone. I’ll reach out to your office when I have a better idea of my schedule….”

Dr. Clark leaned forward in Jordan’s screen. “Jordan, I can wait and we could schedule it together right now—”

Jordan cut her off. “Yeah, I don’t have my calendar in front of me and I have a new temp assistant who is switching me over to another kind of software. It’s all very technical—I don’t understand it. Generation Z’s got it, so I’ll have my girl call your girl. Take care…speak soon…”

Before Dr. Clark could respond with the J in Jordan, Jordan hung up. She sat in her darkened room hearing the waves crash up against the shore. Outside, someone on the beach was chattering and laughing with others. The evening sun was softly peeking through her blinds, making the way for night.

I need to get out of here… she thought, feeling suffocated.

Too many feelings, too many thoughts, too much…

drifting. Dr. Clark couldn’t help her—she needed to help herself.

The way her father would. Attack the problem, get over it.

Move forward. Be rational. She exhaled. Did she have to go in on Harper so badly?

Wasn’t she the one who told him to leave?

I could have been more understanding, right?

Maybe he was just worried about Mia. Maybe I took it too personally?

Maybe…I…should read the email he sent, she thought. Nothing could make her feel worse than her state now.

Jordan went over to her bedroom desk. She cleared the In-N-Out wrappers and Insomnia Cookies boxes off the top of her laptop.

She sat at her desk and slowly lifted open the screen like what was inside would bite.

Read it, Jordan. If you cry, you cry; if you get pissed you get pissed.

Just open it. She scrolled through her emails and found the first of several from Harper dated one week ago entitled “US.” Jordan swallowed and braced herself for what that meant.

Harper described how he didn’t have Wi-Fi and was being driven crazy by not being in communication with her.

Good, that was by design. I’m glad you felt bad, Jordan thought.

Harper went on to apologize for making her so upset and how he didn’t want to leave.

Why did you leave, then, when I asked you to stay?

That hurting her was devastating to him.

Hmm, she thought and softened. But then it went south.

“I’m not choosing any woman over my daughter and if that’s unacceptable to you then…

” Any woman? Any woman? Jordan slammed her laptop shut before she exploded.

“Nope,” Jordan said. She looked back at her bed and as messy as it was, it looked inviting. She’d send her check-in to Shelby. Maybe she’d order sushi. She picked up her phone to find her favorite food delivery service. But there was a text already waiting. One from…

Hey Jordan, it’s Brian McDonald.

I hope this is still your number. I’m on the west coast and thought about you.

I’m around for a few days and would love to take you to dinner if you’re free. Something I want to discuss with you.

Brian? Immediately, memories of her relationship with him came to mind.

That smile, those dimples, those hands, that tongue.

Jordan dated Brian over ten years ago. She broke up with him.

But she had loved him. For the first time in her life she had considered marrying a white boy.

He’d made her think about having some beige babies and taking Mediterranean vacations looking like a family in a Polo ad.

But she knew her Ebony magazine cover of a brown nuclear family would always lurk in the back of her mind.

That wouldn’t have been fair to him. Or her.

So she broke it off. But now…he could break her off.

Something he wanted to “discuss.” Yeah, she liked his approach: respectful.

The thought of reuniting with Brian and enjoying all his gifts started lifting Jordan from her funk.

Yes … she thought. This is exactly what I need.

The saying was: the best way to get over a lover was to get under another.

I’m a bad bitch, Jordan reminded herself.

I’m desirable. But this time, the pussy leads… .