Chapter 9

Chapter 9

An hour later, everyone was gone. They had left, clueless about my internal crisis, thanking me and telling me how much fun they had on their way out. Telling me we'd have to get together soon. Giving me suggestions for next year's party. I didn't remember the specifics, just that Jack had stood by me at the door, his arm hooked in my elbow. I wondered if he was holding me up or if it just felt that way.

And then he was getting his coat. He looked down at my hand and I realized it was gripping his arm. I quickly dropped it.

"Do you want me to stay?" he asked, letting go of his jacket.

"No, it's fine. I'll be fine."

"You can ask me to stay if you need me."

"It's okay," I said.

"I'll stay."

Relief poured through me. "Okay, only if you want to."

He gave me a soft smile. "I'll wait in your room." He headed down the hall.

I turned, steeling myself for what was to come.

My family all sat stoic in the living room, the television off, but nobody talking.

Ava was the first to speak. "I'm sorry for messing things up. I thought you knew."

"I still don't know," I said. Probably because I refused to accept what my heart was telling me. My brain couldn't make sense of it. And hearts were such unreliable sources. "Who's getting a divorce? Grandma and Grandpa?" That made more sense than the alternative even though they'd been married for fifty plus years.

Evelyn gave me the seriously? look.

"Not you guys," I said, looking between Mom and Dad. "You're perfect."

"Nobody is perfect," Mom said. "Have a seat."

I was still lingering in the doorway. I didn't want to sit down. Sitting down would make it real. But I did anyway. I sat on the open couch cushion between my sisters. My parents sat in separate armchairs like a terrible vision of the future.

"It's just a separation for now," Dad said. "A trial period."

"That's what people always say before a divorce," Ava said.

"Why?" I asked. "I don't understand."

My parents looked at each other with a sad acceptance. Mom spoke first, "We just fell out of love."

"Then fall back into it," I snapped. That seemed like a flimsy excuse, not good enough to destroy an entire family.

"We're like roommates," Dad added. "Best friends."

"And that's a bad thing?" I asked.

"Imagine being married to Jack," Evelyn said under her breath.

I shot her a dirty look. Whose side was she on?

"I don't get why you're just giving up so fast," I said. "Don't you want to fight for this? You love each other."

"Honey," Dad said. "You have no idea how long we've been fighting for this. We're tired and we deserve to be happy. We've waited until you were all grown."

"I'm not all grown," I said. They may have acted like that sometimes, but I was still here. They hadn't finished their job yet.

"You know what I mean," he said. "And because we respect each other we're going to see if being apart is better or worse."

"It will be worse," I said, wondering why my sisters were so quiet in all this. How long had they known?

Ava reached out and placed her hand on mine and I yanked it away.

Mom stood and took a step toward me, offering me a sympathetic head tilt. "I guess we can embrace your version of Valentine's Day."

"Don't." I flew to my feet. "This isn't a day for you."

She reached her hand out, taking another step closer.

"No, I don't want comfort. Comfort each other." I pointed between her and Dad. "Not me. This isn't over." With those words, I fled from the living room, down the hall and to my bedroom where I shut my door and pressed my back against it.

Jack looked up from where he sat on my bed.

"No, no, no, no," I muttered.

"Scarlett," Jack said. He was in front of me before I uttered another word. He opened his arms and I stared at them, not wanting to accept comfort when everything was going to be fine. This had to be fine. He pulled on my crossed arms, bringing me against his chest and wrapping me up.

"I'm so sorry," he said against my temple, holding me tight. "I'm so, so sorry."

"This is what happens when people only celebrate love once a year. It dies a slow death."

"Who needs love?" Jack said.

I choked on a sob I wasn't letting out. "Love sucks."

"Come here." He led me to my bed where he pulled back the comforter and tucked me beneath it.

"Are you leaving?" I whispered.

He shook his head and climbed into bed beside me, pulling my back up against his front. We lay that way for a long time. If it meant I never had to leave this room again, face the reality of what had happened outside this door, I would lie this way forever.

"They'll be fine," I eventually said. My voice sounded flat, emotionless. "It's just a separation. A trial period. They'll see."

"Remember that time we rode our bikes out behind the Edwardsons' farm and we named all the cows?" Jack said, his voice soft in my ear.

I nodded.

"And you said your dream job was a farmer so you could wear overalls all day and ride in tractors?"

"Yeah," I said.

"Is that still your dream job?"

"Are you trying to get my mind off what just happened?"

"Yes," he said. "But also, I realized earlier, when you were surprised that I could whistle, that some things we know about each other are frozen in time. That we've grown and changed, like everyone does, but it has happened so subtly that maybe we haven't even recognized some of those things. And that got me thinking, that the last I knew, you wanted to be a farmer."

I knew he was trying to say something about my parents in his summary of us, but I didn't want to hear it. "Your whistle was very impressive," I said, gripping his forearm that was wrapped snuggly around my waist. "How did you learn that?"

"YouTube," he said.

"Really?" I asked.

"Yeah," he said with a chuckle.

"I don't know what I want to be anymore, but I look terrible in overalls."

"I haven't seen you in those in years, either." His arm tightened around me, and hot tears pooled in my eyes. I blinked several times to keep them at bay, barely containing them. I was so glad that he'd kept whatever confession he'd almost made in the closet earlier to himself. Because right now I needed my friend and anything that risked losing that was not worth it.

I shifted, rolling toward him and burying my face in his neck. "Thanks for being my best friend."

"Always," he responded.