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“Jack! Jack!” I hear Edith calling me.
“Baby, what’s up?” I run from my office to the kitchen. She’s standing in front of the sink, looking out the window. “What is it?”
“Snow, Jack,” she whispers.
“Edie, it’s New Jersey. We get snow every winter,” I say gently. I’m confused, but I want to know where this is all leading in her sweet, complicated mind.
“No, Jack. Really look at it. It’s making everything new.” Edith puts down the towel and pulls me to the back door, opening it and stepping outside, holding her hand into the icy flakes. Snowflakes are just covering the ground and I know that, by tomorrow, I’ll be shoveling our new driveway so we can get the cars out.
“Edith, its freezing cold out here. Have you lost your mind?” She doesn’t have a jacket on and she’s still wearing those damn flip flops. The cold air is crisp and biting, and she wants to stand on the porch, looking out into the backyard.
“No, Jack. I think it’s just waking up.” She turns in my arms and hugs me tightly. I don’t have a clue what she’s talking about, but feeling her skinny arms wrap around my chest makes my heart swell. It must be the fucking cold that’s stinging my eyes as I breathe her in and squeeze her back.
“God, I’ve missed you, Edith. I love you so much.” I kiss the top of her head, hoping and praying this is real.
“I’m not going anywhere, Jack Hamilton. I’m finally home,” Edith whispers in my ear. I know we’re slowly moving past whatever hurdles we’ve had. Doesn’t mean life is perfect, but we’re working on it.
“Sure took you long enough, babe,” I tease her and she pinches my stomach, letting me know we’re all right. She hasn’t said she loves me, but she’s not ready for that yet. I can wait. Statistically speaking, we’re probably better off than most couples at this point, and I’m willing to bet we’re going to do just fine.
Chapter Eleven
Edith
Jack holds me tightly on the porch, the snow gently falling around us. Thick columns of wood support the roof rising from the foundation. I love this house. His arms feel strong and warm, comforting. Watching the snow falling sharpens my senses somehow. Through the thin rubber flip flops, I can feel the cold burning the bottom of my feet. The greens and burnt oranges are coated with white snow, fresh and untainted. The vice grip around my chest seems to have lessened momentarily and I can breathe with ease…for now. As much as I know Jack loves me, my own words choke me. How badly I want to say them back to him, to see his eyes light up with joy, but just when I think I can get the one syllable word out of my mouth, the grip on my chest screws tighter and the words fall silent.
Growing up, my parents said “I love you” a lot, but they also said a lot of other hurtful and degrading things. “Stupid”. “Worthless”. “Whore”. My fucked up brain knows Jack is nothing like them, but the anxiety of being let down is there, lingering like a darkening shadow. Time seems to have been moving in slow motion these past few weeks. Between the anxiety and never wanting to get out of bed, I can’t really tell. As much as I think Jack hopes I’m getting better, I’m not.
Not.
At.
All.
In fact, if I had to catalog these feelings, I would say the darkness is more overwhelming. I don’t know if Daniel’s attack flipped some switch in my brain, but between the good days and the utterly horrible ones, I feel like I have a constant case of whiplash.
“Babe, you sure you’re okay?” Jack kisses my forehead, squeezing me tight against his strong, warm chest.
“Of course. Better every day.” I force my lips to crack a small smile when, in reality, all I want to do is run back inside the house, run up the stairs to the bedroom, and crawl underneath our bed to hide from all the demons chasing me.
“Honestly, babe?” Jack wipes a tear from my cheek and I sniff.
“Oh, pfft.” I try brushing him off, but it doesn’t work. He knows me better than I know myself…and that’s frightening. “The cold is just making my eyes water.”
Jack cocks his head and gives me a strange look. I know he can tell something is up, so I stick to my charade and pinch his flat stomach again. Poor man probably has a trail of love bruises up and down his stomach from me.
“I want to keep holding you like this, but I’m freezing my ass off. Let’s go inside. I don’t want you to get sick after everything.”
Jack pulls me inside and leads me into the living room, setting me down on a new couch I have yet to feel comfortable on. The c
ushions are too stiff and smell of plastic. I miss my old couch, but Jack refused to let the movers bring it, so it sadly sat on my street overnight until another family shoved it into their pickup and drove away. I love…loved that fucking couch. It was a steal, but it was mine. This new one is some pinky-orange-neutral Pottery Barn monstrosity Jack picked out online when I wouldn’t let him buy the ridiculous leather sectional. I’m pretty sure this one cost him twice as much, but he never once batted an eye at the price.
“Happy now? I’m inside, safe and sound.” Sulking, I curl up on the couch, looking up at him.
“Not yet, Edith.” Jack drags a throw blanket over me and wraps it around my shoulders, neck, and legs. “How about I make something to drink and order in? We can watch a movie and relax.” Jack brushes my hair back from my forehead. The gesture is both sweet and suffocating, but I have no idea how to appropriately express that, so I just sit there and nod. I’m learning to pick my battles with this man.
As soon as he leaves the room and I hear him on the phone, I scowl and toss the blanket off me. I’m too warm. Maybe I am coming down with something. I don’t know. I feel itchy, agitated. Cue the guilt complex because I know I’m just being a bitch towards my loving boyfriend.
