3. Fern

3

Fern

F ern’s feet were heavy as she trudged up the stairs after class.

After the week she’d had, her students were the one thing that could buoy her spirits… but then they went home, and she was left feeling like a deflated balloon.

Her yoga classes drew in a steady stream of regulars with new students coming each week, but it still wasn’t enough to pay the rent.

She’d held up her half of the expenses easily enough (even though her ex-boyfriend made four or five times as much as she did), but with him gone she couldn’t bring in enough money to pay for the beautiful two-story house alone.

He was supposed to come over that day to pick up the last of his stuff, and she was almost looking forward to it. Not that she was looking forward to seeing him – she could happily go the rest of her life without setting eyes on him again, as a matter of fact – but she was looking forward to being well and truly done with the man who had started up with a woman half their age while Fern coasted along like a fool, thinking that everything was fine.

She had already boxed up all of his stuff in order to get him in and out of the house as quickly as possible. And she had boxed up her own stuff too, which had been more painful. But if she wanted to keep her idyllic yoga space downstairs, and she did, then she would have to rent out the second-story home up above.

She had already started migrating downstairs, hanging tapestries and moving photos and doing everything she could to make the tiny one-bedroom place feel like home. It was better suited as a guest house – which was what they had used it for, hosting friends who came to visit for a week at a time – but she didn’t need much space. It was just her, after all.

Maybe she should get a cat.

A knock on the door pulled her out of her spiraling thoughts.

That would be Chad.

She sighed, steeled herself, and opened the door.

“Good morning,” a voice squeaked.

Fern adjusted her gaze, looking down a full foot below the spot where she’d expected to find Chad’s cold blue eyes. There was a different pair of eyes there, the same color but filled with kindness… and anxiety. Shining blond hair cascaded over her shoulders, nearly all the way down to her belly.

Tiffany.

When she pressed the palms of her hands to her shirt, revealing the slight bulge of early pregnancy, the sight hit Fern like a punch to the gut.

Chad had never really wanted children.

When an accidental pregnancy early in their relationship failed to produce a living baby, his life continued on unchanged. And when she lost their second baby years later, she had sensed the same thing from him as the first time: disappointment with an undercurrent of relief.

He had supported her (nominally, financially) while she recovered from each loss – but both times, Fern’s devastation was hers and hers alone.

Trying again would be too hard on her body, he’d insisted. Anyway, weren’t the billions of people already trampling the Earth enough? He couldn’t in good conscience add to overpopulation.

And no, adoption wasn’t on the table either. When Fern asked, he’d always said that he would never be able to love a kid that wasn’t his.

Now she stood face to face with the proof that he had no issues with starting a family after all. He just hadn’t wanted to start a family with her .

“Remember me?” The girl’s smile was bright, but her hands twisted together nervously.

“Tiffany,” Fern sighed. Chad had brought his new girlfriend along to the breakup… what had made her think that she wouldn’t be there for moving day too?

“Yep, that’s me.”

“Hi.” Fern looked over her head and down the stairs, scanning the empty space for Chad.

“He’s not here.” Tiffany’s tone was apologetic.

“He sent you to pick up his boxes?”

“I’m stronger than I look,” she said, trying to keep things light.

“That’s not what I–”

“He had to work, so I came to get everything. He said you’d boxed it all up already?”

“Yeah, I did.”

“Great, thank you!” After an awkward pause she asked, “Can I come in?”

“Yes. Right. Of course.” Fern hurried to step back, giving Tiffany room to enter.

As the girl walked inside and surveyed the boxed-up kitchen, Fern took a long look at her. She was so young. Twenty, maybe? Young enough to be Fern’s daughter, if she’d started at nineteen the way her own mother had.

“It’s so empty in here.” Tiffany turned to her, wide eyed. “Was everything his?”

Fern sighed and gestured to the boxes that she had stacked by the door. “This is all of his stuff here.”

“Gotcha.” Tiffany grabbed the nearest box and grunted with surprise when she felt its weight.

“That one has the espresso machine.” Fern hurried to take it from her, then nudged another box with her bare foot. It was the same size, but all it had inside were clothes. “Grab that one, would you?”

The younger woman looked nervously at the box that Fern held. “You don’t have to do that.”

“It’s fine.” Fern shifted the weight in her arms, hardly straining.

The last thing that she needed was for the tiny blonde to hurt herself hauling heavy boxes – or worse, tumble down the steep outdoor steps. They could be slick when the weather was gray.

“You know what? I can just carry it all down.”

“You really don’t have to.”

“It’s fine.”

The door was still open a few inches. Fern opened it the rest of the way with her foot and stepped out onto the landing. Tiffany grabbed the lighter box and followed.

“The car’s right around the front.” Tiffany had an odd energy to her, bright and friendly and anxious to please. Fern wasn’t surprised that Chad had gravitated towards her. She had a harder time understanding what Tiffany saw in a staid, almost grim, man in his mid forties.

Heck, at this point Fern didn’t understand what she had seen in the man herself. She almost pitied the younger woman for tying herself to him permanently with a baby. She was bound to regret that… if she didn’t already.

But what could anyone do but make the best of things?

At the bottom of the stairs, Fern turned onto the wet green lawn and rounded the corner until she found Tiffany’s car. Chad’s car, actually. Seeing the familiar white Lexus gave her a strange sense of vertigo.

Tiffany opened the back with the click of a button, and Fern set the box inside.

“We’ll never get everything in without putting the seats down.”

“How do you get the seats down?”

Fern sighed and went around to the side door. It only took her a minute to fold the seats down and triple the available space.

She and Chad had slept back there for a while, when they were new to the island and searching for a place to live. Her battered old CRV had been packed with all of their stuff, and the Lexus was their bedroom. She’d wanted to keep using it as one even after they had found this place, wanted to explore their new home and stay overnight at beaches on the other side of the island, but Chad had no desire to sleep in a car if he didn’t have to.

His daily life in Hawaii hadn’t looked much different than winters in Seattle. She had thought before the move that his sedentary habits were a result of inclement weather, but even in the tropics he lived his life inside.

He’d actually spent more time at home than ever, complaining that there was nothing to do in Pualena or even up in Hilo. Small-town life didn’t suit him. Was that why he had gone for the excitement of a fling with a twenty year old? Where would Tiffany be when that wore off?

“Not my problem,” Fern muttered under her breath. She blinked rapidly, trying to clear her head, and reached for the box containing the heavy espresso maker.

“What did you say?” Tiffany asked, so close behind her that Fern jumped.

“Nothing.” She dragged the box to the front and settled it just behind the passenger seat, then backed out of the car and straightened. “I’ll get the rest of the boxes.”

“I can help.”

She glanced at Tiffany’s platform sandals. “I really don’t want you going up and down the stairs.”

The girl twisted her hands together anxiously. “I can’t let you do it all on your own.”

“Okay.” Fern let out a huff of breath. She wasn’t eager to drag this out any longer than necessary, but she couldn’t get the nightmarish image of the pregnant girl tumbling down the stairs out of her mind. There was nothing half as heavy as the espresso machine, though, so the boxes themselves shouldn’t be a problem. “How about this? I’ll carry everything down to the bottom of the stairs, and you load it into the car.”

“Right-o, captain!” Tiffany saluted her with a playful smile.

Fern stared at her for a fraction of a second in complete disbelief, and then she laughed. Tiff’s smile broadened, and her blue eyes sparkled.

Fern couldn’t hate the girl. She just couldn’t. And somehow, weirdly, that made it all easier.

“Come on. Let’s get your man moved out.”

Fern trotted up her staircase feeling better than she had in days.

Yes, the breakup had been a shock. Yes, she had spent the better part of a week moping and crying and processing the trauma of it all. But now, she couldn’t shake the feeling that Tiffany had done her a favor. She almost felt sorry for the girl.

Her heart was light as she ferried all of Chad’s things down the stairs.

The sky cleared and the day warmed up, and her dreads hung hot and damp against the back of her neck. She had never loved having long hair, and they’d become a source of real irritation ever since she’d moved to tropical Hawaii.

Chad had always pushed her to keep her hair long. He’d worried that she would look too masculine with it short – that with her height and lean muscles, she wouldn’t be able to pull it off. It just wasn’t feminine, he said.

“Is that everything?” Tiffany asked as Fern slotted the last box into the back of the car.

“That’s it.”

“Thank you.” The girl chewed at the edge of one ragged fingernail as she stared up at Fern with worried eyes. “Also… I’m sorry. I didn’t know that Chad had a girlfriend. I never would have–”

“It’s okay,” Fern said, cutting her off. “Really.”

The blonde surprised her by stepping in and wrapping her arms around her waist.

Fern was nearly six feet tall, and Tiffany was so much shorter that her cheek rested against Fern’s sternum. That combined with the age gap awoke something maternal in her, and she gave the girl a heartfelt hug.

“Thanks again. For everything.”

“Take care of yourself, Tiff.”

“You too.”

Fern watched the Lexus drive away and turn onto the road, and then she walked back upstairs. She stood in the kitchen for a long moment, still feeling unmoored. The space was empty and echoing, bare of all of the things she had added to make it feel like home.

She wasn’t sad about Chad, exactly, but being single again after so many years together was still an adjustment. She was used to him being home pretty much all the time, and an empty house would take some getting used to.

Just when her feet threatened to root down into the linoleum flooring she had always intended to replace, she shook off the stupor and found her kitchen scissors.

One by one, she cut off her dreads.

With each hunk of hair that fell to the floor, she felt a bit lighter.

When they all lay in a pile, she went into the bathroom and evened out her new haircut. It was cropped nearly down to her scalp.

An ocean breeze that drifted past her neck and shoulders was a delicious relief, especially without the weight of all that hair piled on top of her head.

She felt free. Renewed. More like herself than she had in a long time.

Newly liberated, she walked out onto the balcony to enjoy the second-story ocean view while she still could.