Page 17 of Nothing But It All
My brain was active, bouncing back and forth between the past and present. It’s probably because Jack was home during daylight hours yesterday. Because for a moment with Billie, things had felt almost normal—or what normal used to be, anyway.
Nostalgia was a bitch in the lonely, dark hours of the night, and it took everything in me to fight it. To not drown in its depths. To remember that I’d pulled myself out of that state of mind for a reason.
“Mom?” Maddie asks, shaking me out of my reverie.
“An hour? I just got up—literally. I haven’t even had coffee yet.”
She sighs like only a teenager can. “I need to get home.”
I slip on a pair of Jack’s shorts under his T-shirt that I sleep in and make my way down the hall.
“What do you have to do that’s so pressing?” I ask, pausing to adjust the thermostat.It’s freezing in here. Who turned the air-conditioning so high?“You’ll just get home and complain about being bored.”
“No, I won’t. I promise. There’s a bunch of stuff I want to do today.”
Early-morning sunlight filters through the curtains and casts a pretty glow over the kitchen. It’s been my favorite room of the house since the moment I walked in with the real estate agent almost twenty years ago. I could envision myself standing at the sink, laughing with Jack. It was easy to imagine this space filled with warmth and traditions—and love.
I get a cup of coffee brewing and find my hazelnut creamer behind the juice.
“Let me get some coffee in me and jump in the shower,” I say. “I have glitter stuck to my palms from last night.”
“So, an hour? An hour and a half?”
I blow out a breath. “I’ll be there by eleven.”
“Perfect. Love you, Mama.”
“Love you, Mads. Bye.”
“Bye.”
The line goes dead.
I shake my head, making quick work of my caffeine in a cup. Then I take a seat at the table. I sip my coffee and watch the traffic out the window.
The stress I’ve carried on my shoulders since Jack left yesterday begins to subside.
It’s funny how I used to not get a second to breathe. I would’ve paid someone for ten minutes to take a shower alone. Now, the moments I do get to myself are tricky. They’re an echo chamber of memories—and that’s not always a good thing.
“No, Lauren, that’snotwhat I’m worried about.”
“What does that mean, Jack?” I ask aloud. “Whatareyou worried about?”
I take another sip of my coffee.
I can’t help but wonder sometimes what might’ve happened if I hadn’t made the conscious decision to disconnect from Jack. I had to—I know I did. I had to start living a life instead of playing a role in his. But I can’t deny that by backing away from trying to mold our relationship into what I wanted, I probably put the final nail in the coffin.
It’s a double-edged sword. If I had kept putting my life—everything from cleaning the gutters, to my health, to finding my personal joy—on the back burner until Jack was ready, maybe my marriage would be on better terms. At least, it’s possible I could’ve put my head in the sand and pretended to be happy. Obliviousness can be bliss. But while that might’ve infused my relationship with Jack with a shot of energy, it would’ve drained me.
And that’s the decision I had to make—us or me.
Is it wrong to pick me too?
More fire. More passion. More time spent together besides meeting at a sports event and grabbing fast food on our way home—if he doesn’t have to go back to the shop.
Is that so terrible?
My phone rings again, making me jump.
