Page 8 of Her Dark Salvation

I popped a chip into my mouth and chewed thoughtfully. “I haven’t been happy in months. There’s been this… this antipathy brewing. Antipathy and… resentment.”

I picked up my sandwich, sunk my teeth into the freshly baked bread, tomato, and mozzarella, and let the perfect combination of basil and balsamic dance across my tastebuds. I groaned dramatically and rolled my eyes back. “How is this consistently so good?”

Jeff grunted, shrugged his shoulders, and shoved a few chips in his mouth. Forty-six and he still ate like a teenager.

“My birthday brought some clarity. I think. I know it’s irrational, but something about the number forty-five.” I hesitated, but I couldn’t keep the tornado of troubling thoughts bottled up any longer. “There’s this sense of urgency. Like I—like I need to live. Right now.”

He frowned. “You are living.”

I sighed dramatically, exasperated trying to explain something I didn’t fully understand myself.

“I spent the entire winter break in Amherst,” I said.

“You don’t usually do that.”

“Exactly. But this year I needed to be with my parents. In my old house.”

The admission made my chest ache. I never wanted to spend time in Amherst or with my parents. One week with them in Italy the previous summer and I was ready to jump off the train. But now? I’d been back in Cambridge a little over a week, and I already missed them. I craved my family.

“A few days after Christmas, my parents took me to a new restaurant in town. They thought I’d enjoy it.It’s where all the kids your age hang out.”

“Kids,” he chuckled and shook his head.

“They weren’t kidding. The place was packed with people our age. I ran into one of my friends from high school. Melissa—remember her? We went to Amherst together for undergrad?”

“Oh yeah… Melissa. The one with the…” He wiggled his finger at his face. “The nose ring.”

I huffed. “An accomplished nurse practitioner and that’s what you remember? The nose ring?”

He shrugged, grabbed a fistful of chips, and crammed them into his mouth until his cheeks puffed out.

I made a face at him, and he managed a “What?” through the mouthful.

I chuckled. “Disgusting.”

He gave me a self-satisfied grin.

I shook my head and soldiered on. “She has a kid graduating high school this year. The other one’s going to be a freshman. Her and her family were at this big table with two other couples. They all had kids, and they were coloring, and—” I choked up. The back of my throat burned with emotion, but I held back the welling tears.

“Oh, Anna.” He reached out and placed his hand over mine, his eyes filled with deep understanding. “Is this about kids? I thought you’d made peace with that.”

“I did.” I swiped at my eyes before the tears spilled over. “It’s—it’s not about kids. It’s…” My breath shuddered as I tried to breathe through the heartache. I’d made peace with my infertility years ago, but that didn’t mean it wasn’t still painful. I shook my head, trying to clear my thoughts and get back on track. “It’s not about kids. It’s about what they represent.”

I sipped my water, trying to ease the tension, and searched for words among the flurry of emotions, but I couldn’t find anything louder than the growing ache in my chest. I had to get it all out.

“Did you know I bought readers?”

Jeff’s head jerked back.

“The words don’t stand out on the page like they used to. And after a day staring at a computer screen…”

He tossed his napkin atop his empty plate and narrowed his eyes, exercising heroic levels of patience while I took him on this wild ride.

“I slept with David.”

“Lancaster?”

“Yeah.”

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