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“He said that he needed to think about it. Process it. He was really…he was really hurt.”
“Well, you don’t get to disappear, reappear, tell him he has a kid, and expect him not to be angry,” Kelley points out. Sometimes, her directness gets under my skin.
I hear Kelley sigh. It’s the sound she makes when she realizes she’s being a little too hard on me. “I’m sorry, Rach. Are you okay?”
“I’ll be home in a few hours.” I am suddenly bone-tired.
“Drive safely, Rach.”
I hang up and tuck my phone in the seat next to my leg. My eyes burn from the tears I have cried; my chest hurts; and I’m trying to remember exactly why I left J.R. in the first place. Fear. At least, that’s what my therapist said.
My phone begins to vibrate against my leg. My heart leaps thinking that maybe it’s J.R., but when I pull the phone into focus, I notice that it’s my boss.
“Adam, hi,” I answer. I clear my throat and try to speak around the nasal sound to my voice.
“Rachel, I know you’re out of town for a few days, but I’ve got a piece I want you to work on.” Adam is not one for chit chat. He’d rather call someone, get to the point, and hang up. If there are any questions afterwards, I’m expected to email him.
“Whatcha got?”
“Did you know the world is supposed to end this year? Has something to do with the Mayan calendar. Anyway, I need an opinion piece onwhythe world won’t end on December 21.”
A part of me wants to write an opinion piece on why Ihopethe world will end on December 21. “I’ll get right on it,” I tell him.
“Thanks,” he says. “Oh, and, Rachel? Thank you for introducing me to Kelley. We’re going out again tomorrow night.”
I didn’t intentionally introduce Adam to Kelley. It just happened that way. I never would have guessed that Adam was even Kelley’s type, but I suppose opposites really do attract.
“It’s actually pretty horrifying that my best friend and my boss are dating, but if you’re happy, that’s what matters. Right?” I’m only partially joking.
Adam laughs. “Take care of yourself, Rachel.” He says this in such a way that I think he knows why I’m out of town. I probably have Kelley to thank for that—a very sarcastic thanks.
“You, too.” We hang up, and I tuck the phone back next to my leg in the seat, exhale, and try to push J.R. out of my mind again.
I’m only thirty minutes out of Tybee when my phone rings once more. It’s J.R this time and my heart stops beating for a few seconds.That was quick.
“J.R.?” I answer.
“Where are you?” he asks. “I’ll meet you for lunch or something.” He sounds a little calmer. Like he’s ready to talk.
“I’m in Savannah. We could meet at our old pizza house,” I suggest.
“I’ll see you there.” He hangs up, and I stare ahead, still holding the phone to my ear in a few seconds of shock. My hands are visibly shaking with anxiety.
I feel relieved, though. I’m glad I don’t have to drive home and tell Knox that her daddy needed to think about whether or not he wanted to meet her. I think in some ways, that would have been worse than if J.R. had just told me that he wasn’t interested in knowing her at all.
I change my route and head back to Downtown Savannah.
I’m sitting on a faded and chipped, red-painted bench just outside the pizza house. My leg bounces up and down out of nervousness. My hands are folded in my lap, and I fiddle with my thumbs.
J.R. steps out of the crowd, majestic like he is. He’s changed into a pair of jeans, his hair no longer braided, hanging past his shoulders in waves. He wears a ball cap and a black tee. I stand from the bench to greet him, but we don’t exchange any words. Instead, he opens the restaurant door for me and directs me inside. A part of me waits for him to touch me. His hand on the small of my back like he used to do. But he doesn’t.
We find a table in a quiet corner of the restaurant. J.R. orders a beer. I’m not thirsty, nor am I hungry.
He looks at me from across the table. His Ray-Bans perched over the bill of his cap. His blue eyes still have the power to make me feel in ways I can’t describe. J.R.’s hands are folded across the table. He looks like he’s thinking, like he’s trying to find words. I sit there like a little girl who’s in trouble and about to get a scolding. Finally, he says, “I looked for you, Rachel. For a really long time.”
I choke back any tears I might cry. “I’m sorry.” My voice is a whisper.
“I went to Kelley. Practically begged her to tell me where you were. You were there that night, weren’t you?”
