Page 75 of A Fighting Chance

I just wish you’d have given us

a fighting chance.

Any hope I had of not crying goes out the door as soon as I read the first sentence.

By the last one, I’m sobbing.

I fall asleep balled up in the center of my bed—Gentry’s note clutched in one hand, his shirt in the other. Mascara streaks down my face and there’s no warmth in this bed; I wake up and search for it again and again but it’s not here. I pushed it away with poisonous words.

In one of my fits, I reach across my bed, still searching, and I wonder if I’ll be able to live with this choice I’ve made. I swallow the answer down into my gullet, here in the dark, wearing my aloneness again.

And it fits just like I thought it would.

Too well.

Twenty-Five

Lyla

The next morning,my eyes are closed but I’m awake. I can feel the dried drool at the corners of my mouth, the gritty feeling behind my eyelids. Everything has crusted over. Light is dancing in the room and I want to open my eyes but I’m afraid. Afraid of what’s out there. What I’ll see. What I’ll have to face. I roll over and finally unclench the shirt, searching for my phone.

It’s nine twenty-three in the morning, earlier than I want it to be but later than I expected. In two days’ time, I will be on a plane back home to Boston. Just two more days, and maybe, I can put this behind me and remind myself of all the reasons I’ve been alone most of my life. I can go back to casual dating to satiate the occasional need, the occasional want. I can focus on my life, travel to the places I want. Except in all the freedom of my adult life, I still haven’t traveled anywhere. Maybe I’ll finally start.

I roll to my side and see the folded note marked for staying. Holding my breath, I push myself up and reach for it. I brush my fingers over the words written on the outside of the note. The thought of opening it frightens me, so I walk to my suitcase and place it in the front pocket. Maybe one day I’ll be brave enough to read it, but today is not that day.

As I stretch my arms up over my head, I decide to spend the entire day with Nan. To get my fill of her before I leave. Maybe I’ll ask her to go shopping with me. I’ll invite Harper, too. Make it a girls’ day.

Yes.

That’s exactly what I need.

I want to go shopping for some local things to take back with me anyway, and this is the perfect scenario. I rush to get dressed and wonder if Gentry ever came back.

While I walk downstairs, I can hear people in the kitchen. I take a deep breath, preparing to see him sitting in his usual spot, reading the way he always is. I turn the corner wearing a small smile, but it falls immediately. Nan and Harper are the only ones at the table. Part of me realizes that, as much as I was dreading it, I was looking forward to seeing him. The sorted emotions are confusing for me.

“Good morning,” Nan says.

“Good morning,” I say, kissing her on top of her head.

“Did you sleep okay?” Harper asks, a look of concern briefly crossing her face.

“It was fine,” I lie. “I was actually wondering if the two of you could step away from the farm for a little while today and go shopping with me? Maybe grab some lunch? I’d really like to get in a girls’ day before I fly back.”

“Oh, I would love that,” Nan says.

“Me too!” Harper says.

A wave of relief washes over me, realizing I don’t have to spend the day here—or alone, replaying everything that happened last night. “Great, I can be ready in twenty minutes if you guys can?”

We agree to meet at the car after everyone collects their purses and freshens up, then I walk back upstairs to grab my stuff. While I’m up there, I throw my hair in a messy bun. Once I check the mirror, I understand why Harper shot me a concerned look. My face is still puffy and red, my eyes a bit dark and tired looking. I’d managed to wipe away most of the mascara from the night before. But it’ll have to do; nothing a good day of distraction can’t fix.

I walk out to the car and realize Gentry’s truck isn’t here. I look around, as far out as I can see toward the barns and road, but it’s nowhere in sight. I hear Harper and Nan coming down the stairs behind me, so I turn my attention to them. In the back of my mind, I wonder if I should ask Harper if she’s seen him, but I think better of it.

We pile into the car and head down the gravel drive. Harper is driving with Nan in the passenger seat since I elected to take the back. It feels more concealed somehow, less in the spotlight. I can hide away back here a little until we get to our destination. Nan is chattering on about the ladies in her church group as Harper and I listen as best we can.

Harper keeps giving me looks in the mirror and I keep looking away and down at my phone, making every attempt to avoid eye contact.

I’m scrolling aimlessly through social media accounts as we pull into a parking spot in the center of town. There’s a strip of small boutique stores on this street that are perfect. We all fall out onto the sidewalk and decide to hit each shop before stopping for lunch at the corner diner on the other end of the street.

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