20
HELLO SWEETHEART,
So is this over? Did the last seven years mean nothing to you? Are you ever coming back?
I admit it… I got cold feet. I panicked. That doesn’t mean I don’t love you, Maeve. I want to start over.
Please give me a second chance. After seven years, I think I deserve at least that.
Yours always,
Peter
P.S. I miss you.
* * *
Progress is impossible without change,and those who cannot change their minds cannot change anything. –George Bernard Shaw
Dear journal,
I’m so confused. Every time Peter messages me, he pulls at my heart. I’m still so angry at him, yet I agree with him… seven years is not nothing. A part of me tells me that I should give him a second chance, that he deserves it. Before our wedding day, he’d always been a good boyfriend. I can see our life together – it’s clear and in Technicolor.
But on the other hand, the other part of me tells me that he’s hurt me too much, that he doesn’t love me enough. Am I asking for too much? Should one really expect crazy passionate love from a partner, or is that just fairy tale stuff?
And what about Blake? I get crazy passion with him, but is it real? The picture of the two of us is so fuzzy. What we have now is fun. Could we ever have more? Does Blake have that in him? His life is here in our hometown, and my life is back in Burlington.
For the first time in my life, I really don’t know what to do. Which road do I go down? In which direction do I turn?
I wish you could tell me. I wish I had all the answers.
Later, Journal.
M
* * *
The Wi-Fiat Momma’s is a little mercurial. One day, it’s your best friend, and the next, it’s moody and refuses to hang out with you. Thankfully, today it seems to be in a good mood. I lean against my old princess bed headboard, buried in a hodgepodge of pillows. My laptop is pressed comfortably on my thighs.
Momma is out in her garden. When she asked if I’d like to help, I smiled and suddenly had something else to do, anything. I’m no green thumb. “Um… I actually should work on the job search,” I told her. She smirked, knowing exactly what I was up to.
I pore over all the listings, quickly eliminating the ones that don’t apply. I have a pretty good idea of what I’m looking for; something in retail, something fun. I sigh at all the low-paying jobs: sales/cashier part-time positions at The Gap, Guess, American Eagle – jobs I’m overqualified for, jobs any pretty high school girl could get. I exhale a long breath and am just about to give up when I spot an interesting posting; Store Manager at a women’s clothing store in the Burlington Town Center. The salary is promising and the duties are right up my alley, very similar to the ones I had at my last job. With my glowing references, I should be a shoo-in. I jot down some notes and decide to expand my search. The world is my oyster.
There are quite a few positions available out of Burlington, but nothing great enough to pull me away from my life and my friends. I check out one last position. I doubt that I would even qualify for it, but curiosity gets the best of me. Macy’s is looking for a Buyer for their children’s clothing division – the job is in Chicago. Before moving to Burlington, I had a brief job as an assistant for a buyer for Saks, in New York.
Shopping for a living… the perfect job? With my experience in the children’s clothing industry, and my job at Saks, I might have a shot. And Chicago is such an amazing, exciting city. I get giddy at the idea of this job, at the possibility of a brand new life. It’s crazy.
It might be crazy, but I still jot down the info.
“If you’re not going to help me out in the garden,” I hear Momma calling out. “You’ll have to get dinner started. Throw some pasta on.”
I sigh. Spaghetti tonight. I smile and hop off the bed. There’s no rest for the weary at Momma’s place.
* * *
We’re all having a blast,with the exception of Blake, of course. He’s frustrated as hell, struggling to get the blue ball through the clown’s nose. He’s had three shots at it so far, but it keeps bouncing back. He’s really hopeless at this game – it’s kind of fun to watch.
I roll my ball in the palm of my hand as I watch him struggle. He’s about to lose it. I stifle a laugh. Maddie and Jake are just as entertained as I am, both grinning widely.
