Chapter 5

Chapter Five

Melody

As I closed the shop, I was tired but happy. I didn’t have any more college classes until after the new year, and Mandy had taken a couple weeks off. The store had been busy today, which was good for sales but tricky for just one person to handle.

I was closing the cash register when there was a knock at the door, which I’d already locked. I turned and saw Gretchen. I was never too tired for my best friend. I was tremendously grateful for her acceptance and friendship since I’d moved back.

“Are you going to the movie tonight?” she asked when I opened the door for her.

“I don’t think so. It’s been a long day.”

She threw up her hands. “It starts in an hour. Get your blankets and your chair and come with us.”

I shook my head as I returned to the cash register. “No, you enjoy it with your family.” It was one thing to go with my friend; it was another to be pitied by her and her family. Even though I adored all of them.

She stood across from me, glowering. “I made extra hot chocolate for you.”

I smiled and put my hand over hers. “You’re a good friend, Gretchen. I couldn’t have survived the last few months without you. But going to a place where there’s a lot of families at Christmastime just feels wrong right now. Just let me deal with my grief in my own way.” We’d had a lot of talks about grief and divorce.

She nodded. “Fine. You’re coming with us to the gala, right? I already told Kent to save a seat for you at the table. Plus, there will be eligible men.”

My mind immediately flashed to Charles. “No.”

She gave me a look that I’d known since elementary school. If I didn’t come, she would pick me up and drag me off with them. “I’ll back down on the movie, but you’re coming to the charity event. It’s Wednesday, Christmas Eve.” She turned on her heel and moved toward the door. “You might want to follow me and lock the door behind me. There are lots of tourists walking toward the park.”

I followed, and we shared a hug.

“The event is on Wednesday at seven. I’ll pick you up at six-thirty. Okay?”

I scowled at her. “Fine, but I’ll meet you there. I don’t want to be stuck there all night.”

An immediate smile lifted her face. “Good. Wear that cute silver dress I saw in your closet the other day. It’s perfect.”

Gretchen had been up in the apartment with me, and we’d been going through my clothes, sorting them by whether they still fit me. She’d spotted it and loved it.

I acquiesced. “Deal.”

She threw open the store door and walked down the steps, waving. “Okay, bye.”

“Bye.”

I watched the stream of the tourists walking toward the park, carrying their chairs, blankets, and thermals of hot chocolate.

My phone buzzed on the counter, and I quickly shut the door and locked it. Maybe someone wanted to put in an order.

When I picked it up, I saw that it was my son. “Hello? Will?”

“Hey, Mom. How are you?”

“Good.” I didn’t want to lay into him about how he hadn’t returned my calls for two weeks. Didn’t want to complain that I was lonely, and I missed him. To chastise him for not telling me when he was coming for Christmas. “I just locked up the shop. We were busy today—lots of tourists in town.”

“Oh. Right. The store. Are you selling lots of Christmas dolls?”

“I am.” Sometimes I was a little annoyed and embarrassed that I was running my mother’s old shop. After I’d gotten married and moved to Colorado, I’d complained about coming back to Jewel Cove and seeing my mother still running this place. She hadn’t lived in the apartment upstairs; after I’d gone away to college and gotten married, she’d bought a cute little home a couple streets over.

I could move into the house—I checked on it at least twice a week—but it didn’t feel right. It had always been my mother's home. I hadn't grown up here. It was nice enough, but I hadn’t wanted to go through her things. Maybe it was the grief of losing her, or the grief of losing my own home in Colorado. I didn’t know. At first, Gretchen had gotten after me for living above the store, but she’d learned to quit asking about it. Maybe it was because my world had been blown to bits and I’d been free-falling since the divorce. Coming back to the apartment felt like coming home. Plus, I missed my mother less here. It was like she could walk in at any moment.

“I’m glad it’s going well, Mom,” Will said, breaking into my thoughts. “Sorry I haven’t called. I’m just finishing up things.”

“Right. How did finals go?”

“Good. Really good. I’m really liking everyone in the business college.”

“Good. When will you be home?”

There was a pause.

“Well?” My heart raced, and I sensed that he was about to disappoint me.

“I’m not going home, Mom. Or to Jewel Cove . That’s not my home. It’s never been my home. Plus, you live above the store. There’s no room.”

“I have a room for you. It’s ready.” I’d taken great pains to get a new queen bed and new dressers, and I’d hung up some of his old posters from the home in Colorado.

“It’s not home. I know it’s not your fault, but it’s not home.”

I didn’t know how to respond, because technically, he was right.

“I’m going to go with some of my college friends for Christmas.”

Pain hit the center of my chest. I couldn’t speak for a moment. “Uh …”

“Mom? Look, I’ll come to Jewel Cove for New Year’s, okay? But could we stay in Grandma’s old house? She always had a room for me. I’ll stay in that room.”

I tried to settle my thoughts. “Please just come for Christmas, Will.”

I sounded desperate, but I didn’t care.

“New Year’s. I’ll be there around the thirtieth. I’ll stay for three or four days. Promise. My roommate Carl asked if I would go skiing in Park City, Utah, with him. His whole family is going, and they’ve offered to pay for me. I mean, Park City snow—you can’t get better than that, can you?”

I couldn’t get the words together. I knew I wouldn’t convince him. My son was an amazing skier. We’d all had passes to a ski resort up the hill from Denver, and we’d gone there a lot on Saturdays as a family until he’d turned fifteen or sixteen. Then he’d wanted to go with his friends, of course.

“I have to go, but I’ll call you on Christmas, okay?”

I wanted to say okay without crying. I didn’t want to show how upset I was. Will had struggled just as much as I had and had been radio silent for most of the past year. He once told me he didn’t want to punish me for the divorce; he just wasn’t sure how to deal with it all. That was a lot more mature than my desire to explain to him what I’d found after the divorce had been finalized. I’d gotten into his father’s emails and learned that it wasn’t just one woman he had cheated on me with; there had been many.

“Mom?”

I sucked in a breath through the tightness in my chest. Somehow, I put a smile on my face. “Okay. I love you.”

“Love you, Mom. Bye.”

The call ended. I put the phone down on the counter and pushed away, as if I could dismiss all these feelings and emotions just as easily. Tears washed down my face, and a sob escaped.

Gretchen had recently talked me into attending a divorce support group, and I’d found that it was nice to talk to other people about the stages of grief involved in a divorce. Grief about losing holidays. Grief about your family changing. Now that my grief had subsided, I was just angry. All the old anger had bubbled up.

I climbed the back stairs to the apartment, which admittedly wasn’t very roomy. You could walk right from the kitchen into a small living room, then down the short hallway to a bathroom and two bedrooms.

I walked into my bedroom and quickly undressed, changing into running clothes. Running had been a saving grace. I put on my tennis shoes, grabbed my Air Pods, pulled on a black rain slicker that was tight and formfitting, slipped a headband on, and moved down the stairs. Once I’d picked up my phone, I headed out the back door, pressing in the code and making sure it locked behind me.

I took off down the alleyway, heading away from the park where I could hear the movie playing. I traveled down the streets I’d known my whole life. There was comfort in that, especially since the home I’d built for twenty years was gone. The home I’d raised my son in, the home where we’d celebrated Christmas … all of that had vanished.

I moved down to Second Street, alongside the walkway on the beach. It was getting dark, and there was no one in sight as I made my way down a running path. I turned on a playlist of classic rock from the nineties, and the music blasted inside my ears.

It was funny that I was a runner now. I used to make fun of people who ran. I used to think they were horrible mothers, leaving their families so often for these insane races. That it was idiotic to sleep in a van and take turns running all night. Yet now, running was the only time that my mind seemed to calm. Getting my body in motion made the feelings disappear, at least for a while.

I ran for about thirty minutes and then turned around. A new song came on, one that made me think of Charles. Maybe it was because I’d just seen him, or maybe it was because Will had told me he wasn’t coming, but I was transported back to what my life might’ve looked like with Charles. All kinds of scenarios danced through my head as I jogged back into town.

I wasn’t ready to go back to the apartment, so I wandered toward the public park. The movie screen was easily visible from outside the gathering. It’s a Wonderful Life. Classic.

I scoffed. Wasn’t I just thinking about what my life would’ve been like if I’d gone down a different path? Except that instead of not being born, I’d chosen another man to marry.

I watched the movie for a few minutes and then scanned the crowd, observing the happy Christmas families. Children cuddling with parents. Couples cuddling together.

Grief and anger bubbled inside me. How had Peter fooled me for so long? I’d thought we were okay. Sure, we hadn’t connected well for a few months. My mother had been sick, and I’d wanted to take care of her before she passed away. I thought we’d had a tight bond before that.

How had he been lying to me for nineteen years?

I yanked off my shoes and socks and carried them down to the beach, letting them drop to the sand as I moved to the edge of the water and waded out into the cold, endless ocean. The truth was, I didn’t even feel the cold. I didn’t feel anything right now. Maybe I could just jump in and never look back. The thought appealed to me. Did my life matter as much as George Bailey’s in It’s a Wonderful Life ?