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I can’t remember a time when I didn’t love SJ. He was Samuel Michael Reid Jr. officially, but his close friends called him SJ when I knew him. I wonder what his friends call him now. I grit my teeth as I think about how I wouldn’t know what he’s called now because we’re no longer friends. We’re no longer anything. I know a few choice words I’dliketo call him.
My shoulders sag with defeat, and I lean back against my couch, trying to will my brain to think of anyone or anything but SJ. It’s impossible at this point.
I gaze out the window at dusk and watch the leaves fall from the trees in front of my cottage. Porch lights and streetlights illuminate the road, and it’s getting darker earlier now. Fall is my favorite time of year, and I haven’t even slowed down to enjoy it.
I’ll never admit it to anyone, but I do still love him. It’s hard to just stop loving someone who was supposed to be my forever. I just wish he’d been a better man. Someone who means it when he says he loves someone and makes plans.
I feel like I used to know everything about him, and now I feel like I’ve lived an entire lifetime since we’ve been apart. I feel like it’s been broken up into three parts. There was the beginning when we were awkward thirteen-year-olds on a seventh-grade field trip and then became inseparable friends who didn’t care what anyone else thought about our unusual friendship. Then there was the middle when we were in high school, and we became soulmates. I couldn’t have imagined living life without my best friend. My SJ. Then there was the after without him. That wasn’t the way it was supposed to go, but I had no say in it. And now he’s back in Freedom Valley after twelve years of us being apart, and I don’t know how I feel about that. I haven’t seen him yet, but just knowing he’s right here sends my stomach into nervous knots. I think about how I can continue to avoid him. Maybe I’ll keep working myself into the ground by taking every available extra shift at the hospital. That’s worked so far to keep from seeing him, but as for thinking about him? Yeah, I haven’t figured that out yet. He’s probably at his dad’s auto body shop working, pretending I don’t exist anymore anyway. He’s good at that. And despite being mad, sadness and concern fill me when I think of the rumor that he doesn’t go anywhere and has been a recluse since he moved back. Then I heard another rumor that he might be working at the high school. But I’ve tried not to listen to any stories since hearing about him fills me with so many mixed emotions. Freedom Valley loves to gossip, so I don’t take any of it seriously. A part of me wants to go to Sam’s shop and confront him and finally get answers. And a part of me wants to kick his ass.I could do both, I muse with a shrug. He deserves it.It’s justified.
It’s hard to heal when you don’t know what caused the hurt. It contradicts everything about me as a physician. I’m a healer. And it bothers me when I can’t figure out what’s hurting a patient. I have yet to figure out what hurt SJ enough to leave me. Instead, I’ve felt so many mixed emotions—love, hurt, anxiety, and anger—over a wound I haven’t been able to heal.
I take a deep breath and remind myself I’m a doctor. A professional. An upstanding grown-up citizen of Freedom Valley now. I’m supposed to be cool, calm, and collected, not going around fantasizing about kicking someone’s ass. Although it was a nice ass.
And if he wanted to talk to me, he would. He could find me as well. When it comes to SJ, all bets are off. Hewasmy person. And now he’s not. It’s been twelve years since we broke up, and he broke me. And I think I did a good job trying not to think of him for years. But now I can’t seem to stop, especially since he’s just a few miles away. I purposely avoid Main Street, where Sam’s Auto Body Shop is, and take the roads around it. In fact, I’m severely overdue on my oil change, and my engine light has been on for longer than I care to admit. I make a mental note to go to the next town over and get it checked out on my next day off.
My mind wanders, and I take in my tiny light blue cottage I rent from Mrs. Winters. It sits just behind her cozy house. It’s sparse and not decorated since I’m usually working or sleeping. But it’s home and the closest place to a home I’ve ever had. I bought a couch and bed, and that’s about it. I keep reminding myself that I need to get around to decorating and making it feel more like a home. But lately, I feel like I’m on the outside looking in on my life. Being back in Freedom Valley stirred up more feelings than I thought it would. Maybe on my next day off, I’ll pick up a few things to make it feel cozier in here—throw blankets, a fall-scented candle, and maybe even a few pumpkins for my porch.
Mrs. Winters a.k.a. Goldie, short for Marigold, is our beloved retired town librarian and the woman who has been like a mother to me. She’s my favorite person on the planet. The only anchor I have in life right now. She’s always been a spitfire and the backbone of our community, championing kids and advocating for anyone who needs it. Her husband, Rex, passed away when we were in high school, and she’s been my best friend and family when mine hasn’t been there for me.
While I grew up here, the town library always felt safe, warm, and welcoming. Goldie made this a haven for all of us kids. The impressive library is located in an old historic Victorian home on the edge of town. It felt more like a cozy home. I still can’t smell oranges or wood furniture polish without being taken back to the days at the library. She still does a lot for this town and is heavily involved even though she’s officially retired. She seems to have even more time on her hands now to take care of everyone. I like staying here with her because I like taking care of her, too. I’m not here much, but when I am, I check in on her and make sure she’s doing okay. A hard knock on my front door startles me out of my daydream, and I shake myself back into reality, exhausted from my long day.
I open the door and hold it open for Goldie. She steps in wearing her usual signature large black-rimmed glasses, stylish dyed blond bob, bright pink lipstick, and a wide contagious smile. She’s always been active, working out in her garden and walking daily. She’s pushing seventy but doesn’t look a day over fifty-five. When I’m older, I hope I have the energy and stamina of Goldie. Not much has changed about her in the past few decades. She has a few more wrinkles, but she’s still the same.
“Hey, how’s it going?” I yawn and run my hand through my messy hair. It’s pulled up in a ponytail that desperately needs to be washed. We’re on day six of dry shampoo, and my hair is protesting loudly.
Her smile widens, then dims to a pout. “Honey, my car won’t start. Can you give me a ride to the football game?” She’ll be disappointed if I say no. And she knows I won’t say no. I suspect her car is running just fine, and she just wants me to go with her. And how can I say no? I haven’t seen her in days even though we frequently eat dinner or have coffee together on the porch while the weather is still nice.
I look down at my smelly, sweaty scrubs, exhausted from an intense sixteen-hour emergency room shift at the hospital. Then I look back up at her pleading eyes. I throw my head back in defeat and sigh with a small smile. “Can you give me fifteen minutes to get ready?” Fifteen minutes will be the bare minimum I’ll need to pull my hot-mess self together into something acceptable. I close my eyes as I remember that I don’t have any clean clothes, and these are my last pair of clean scrubs. It looks like taking an extremely long, hot shower, then spending my quiet night at home doing laundry, ordering a Freedom Pie pepperoni pizza, and binge-watching theGilmore Girlson Netflix won’t be happening now.
Her eyes widen in triumph, and her smile grows even bigger with the notion that she’s gotten me to go. “Of course, I brought my book.” She taps her oversized purse. “I’ll just read while you get ready.” She clasps her hands together. “Oh, we’ll have so much fun. And it’s the first game of the season.”
“Wait, I thought you just wanted a ride?” I let out a choked laugh, teasing.
“Well, yes, dear,” she feigns innocence. “A ride thereanda ride home, of course. Hurry along. I’ll buy you a hot dog, too.” She gives me a look like this is supposed to all be common sense for me.
Well played, Goldie, well played.
I trudge to my tiny bathroom, strip off my smelly scrubs, and toss them in the overflowing hamper in the corner. This is not my idea of. . . wait, what day is today? It’s game night, so it must be Friday. I yawn.I’m going to need a lot of coffee for this. I turn the hot water on full blast and step in, hoping it’ll wake me up.
* * *
Surprisingly, I feel slightly more human after my hot shower, and I reach for my soft and worn Eagles T-shirt that was once SJ’s. It’s the one thing I let myself keep all these years. I reason that it’s more mine than his. He has no claim to a football team. You can barely read his name on the back or make out his number now from sleeping in it and countless late-night study sessions. I’ve probably washed it hundreds of times. But it’s my comfort shirt and one of the only reasonably clean articles of clothing I can scrounge up.
I guess I could use a night out with Goldie after too many back-to-back hospital shifts that never seemed to end and only overlap into each other. I’ve lost track. I throw my long blond hair back and put it in a quick braid down my shoulder. I brush my teeth, put a little mascara on my long dark lashes, hoping to brighten my tired blue eyes, and head out. I should put more effort into it, but this is the best I’ve got. My mother would be horrified if she saw me out like this. I don’t think I’ve ever seen my mother without a full face of makeup and a perfectly ironed designer outfit. Even her fancy pajamas match.
I sleep and eat mostly at the hospital these days, only making it home to shower and change clothes. It’s no wonder Goldie cornered me when she could. She probably misses me. Guilt fills me, and I make a mental note to come home more. Sometimes it’s just easier to bury myself in work. After all, I’ve studied my butt off to be a doctor. I made it, and I couldn’t have done it without Goldie’s support and encouragement. And while things are rocky with my parents, she’s the only person I can rely on now. Even though I’ve almost achieved everything I wanted, something still seems missing. I feel lost. My identity has been wrapped up in becoming a doctor for the past twelve years. And now? I’ve made it, but I don’t know what to do with myself besides work. It’s like I lost my identity somewhere along the way, and I’m trying to find myself now that I’m back home.
“Hurry, we don’t want to miss the kickoff!” Goldie calls, snapping me from my identity crisis.
I nab my keys and purse. “I’m ready, but I’ll need coffee.”
She reaches over and puts a hand on my cheek, and I can’t help but lean into her cool and gentle touch. “You work too hard, honey. You need a night off and some fun.” I don’t miss the twinkle in her eyes. She’s up to something. And honestly, I’m too tired to question her right now. I’ll be lucky if I’m able to stay awake for the game. I’ve been known to nap anywhere and at any time such as my car or the storage closet at the hospital. After finishing four years of premed and four years of medical school in New York, then completing an intense Boston emergency room residency that was physically and mentally grueling, sometimes I think I’m still tired from it all. I’ve been working as an official physician for months now—a temporary physician, but still, a physician. I can’t wait for Freedom Valley Memorial to make it official with a contract and hire me full time. I look forward to starting my new life in Freedom Valley.
Goldie updates me on everything going on in town as we make the short drive to the Freedom Valley High School stadium. We park, and I lean my head down to look up through the windshield. “Huh, it looks bigger.”
“Oh, it got remodeled a few years ago after we won state again. Football is even bigger now than when you were in school. I love seeing all you kids grown up and coming to games with families of your own.”
I can’t imagine being responsible for anyone but myself right now. It’s been strange being back in Freedom Valley and seeing my friends around town married and with kids. Sometimes I feel like time has flown by, and we can’t possibly be old enough to have families of our own.
