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19
Bree
It’s been nearly two weeks.
It feels a lot longer than that though.
It had been two full days since our fight in the kitchen when I discovered that Jackson had gone back to the city. I didn’t see him the day after his big meltdown, but I figured he was just avoiding me. I concluded that he just needed time to cool off. I wanted to talk it out, but Jackson and I are clearly not the same. The day after that, the argument and all that he had said to me was really starting to bug me. I needed to know what Jackson had meant, why he had been so awful and nasty, after all the things we had shared. I was losing sleep, and I couldn’t stand not knowing any longer.
Around midday, when he still hadn’t shown his face in the house, I went out to the porch to talk to Ben.
“Is Jackson in the barn?” I had asked.
Ben looked a little surprised and confused at the question, which I found strange. He looked at me for another long minute, before slowly shaking his head.
“Jackson’s not here, Bree,” he said in a heavy tone. A tone I had never once heard coming from Ben since I’d started working for him.
At first, I had not understood what he was telling me. “Well, do you know when he’ll be back?”
Ben looked confused again, before he eventually figured it out and dropped the bombshell. “He’s gone back to the city, Bree. He isn’t coming back.”
If a stiff wind had passed by, I think I might have been blown clean off the porch. I was completely astounded at Ben’s words. I don’t know how long I stood there in a trance, but the touch of someone’s hand brought me back.
Ben had wheeled himself over to me, and held my limp hand in his. “Are you OK?”
Shaking my head, I had opened my mouth, but no words had come out. My mind was numb, and clearly, my other bodily functions were not working too well either.
“Go home, Bree,” Ben said.
“No. I’m fine,” I had croaked, my voice struggling through my throat. “I’ll be—”
“Bree!” Ben said sharply. “Go home. Come back tomorrow.”
And so, I had driven home in a daze, and promptly taken myself straight to my bed.
It’s nearly two weeks later, and the shock has passed. A sadness, a lethargy of sorts, has taken its place, and I can’t seem to find joy in anything anymore. It’s silly, really. It wasn’t like I’d led a miserable existence before Jackson arrived, and his presence had given my life meaning. But his leaving has sure left a vacuum deep inside of me.
My longing for him only reminds me there’s nothing I can do about it. I haven’t tried to get in touch with Jackson, because I’m too scared of his rejection. So instead, I choose to suffer. Until maybe, sometime soon, this horrible, dreadful feeling passes.
The house hasn’t been the same. Me and Ben are not the same. It has nothing to do with Ben. He tries his very best to cheer me up when I walk in the door every working morning. But happiness has truly left me. The contentment I once felt working here, is gone. Jackson took it with him when he left.
“Bree, I need you in here,” Ben calls one morning, as soon as I arrive.
His tone sounds ominous, and so I run into the study, terrified that Ben might have finally lost his patience, attempted to do something he shouldn’t, and I’m going to find him face planted on the floor.
But I don’t. He’s just sitting in his wheelchair, looking at me intently when I hurriedly come to a stop a few feet away from him.
“Sit down, Bree,” Ben says, pointing to a chair not far from him.
I’m a little confused, and I suddenly fear the worst. He’s going to fire me. He can’t stand to look at my miserable expression one more day. He’s had enough. This is it.
“Please,” he presses, since I still haven’t moved; the worst-case scenario flying around my head.
I take the seat, my heart thumping in my chest. I know there is only a week or so until Ben gets his cast off, and I thought I’d have more time to look for something else. In truth, I was considering asking Ben if he would like me to stay on permanently. He definitely needs someone to look after this huge house. But now, it looks like my silliness has lost me that opportunity. I’m going to lose this job, aren’t I? And then what?
“We need to talk,” Ben says, wheeling himself a little closer to me.
I hold my breath as I wait for those dreadful words.
