Page 97 of Any Second Now
“Congratulations. Because, Jacob? I can’t keep supporting you,” I say, my voice softer than I mean it to be.
His face falls. “I know. I was hoping for one more month—” Jacob stops at the look on my face, which must be one of pained resignation.
Of course he needs more.
One more month.
It’ll never end.
He’ll track me down wherever I go. He’ll never let me out of his life. After he has enough money, it’ll be something else. He’ll need someone to talk to about his investments, or ideas for a Christmas gift for his mother, or a reminder on what lawn mowing company we used.
“—but that’s it. And then I’ll have my first paycheck and be all settled. By the time you get back home, I’ll be a different man.”
“I don’t know, Jacob.” My stomach turns.
By the time you get back home.
“Hey.” He steps forward and swipes a finger on my cheek. “You okay?”
I flinch, surprised to realize my cheeks are wet. Am I crying over this man?Whatam I crying over?
His words repeat in my head:by the time you get back home.
That’s what he said.
Because the truth is, my sabbatical ends in less than three weeks. I’m supposed to go back to Connecticut and return to my pharmacy job and my old life.
But I don’t want to.
“I don’t know when I’m coming back.”
“But your sabbatical is almost over?” His crinkles his nose in a way I once found charming.
I shake my head too aggressively. “Maybe I’m not coming back.”
Jacob breathes in sharply.
What am I talking about? Of course I’m going back. I’m just sad because I don’t see a way that I’ll truly be rid of Jacob and that part of my old life.
He’s right—I’m not the kind of woman who travels in an RV and reinvents myself.
I’m just playing a part here.
And the show is almost over.
The look on Jacob’s face breaks my heart. Or does something to my heart. More like stabs it with a kitchen knife. It’s like he’s desperate for my attention. My approval. Have I left that kind of impression on him? That he needs to fix himself for me? If so, I really screwed up.
I think I might have screwed up in a lot of ways.
Divorcing him was not one of them. But staying in such close contact—who did that really help? Instead of giving both of us a clean break, I’ve been sending him money. Emailing him. Texting him back. Taking his phone calls.
I’ve been enabling Jacob.
I’m an enabler.
All he’s doing is thinking about himself and his own problems instead of actually getting out there and solving any of them. Therapy’s done wonders for his self-awareness—I think at this point he’s more in touch with his own issues than most people are—but it’s time he live his life.
“Your mom’s been kind and supportive to me while you’ve been gone,” Jacob says.
