Page 95 of Love & Other Disasters

After she dropped more money than she’d ever spent on a hairdo, she and Rico took her new head of hair for a spin around the mall. It’d been years since she’d been to a shopping mall. As pre-teens, she and her friends used to walk laps, window shop, eat at the food court, and gossip. But that mall had been a dump compared to the swanky one on the ritzy end of town where they now wandered.

“So what’s next on your list? A man?”

“That is definitely not on my list,” Violet laughed.

“Why not? It’s been how long?”

“Seven months, but, I’m still not ready. I’m finding myself.”

“We’re not talking about keeping him forever, just banging him a bit.”

“I tried that once, it was a disaster, and I ended up in a relationship. I’m just not a banging-him-for-a-bit kinda girl.”

“Well, if you did it wrong once, there’s always a next time,” he laughed. “You know what they say. Practice makes perfect.”

True, but she didn’t want to practice. She missed J.P., but kept that to herself. While Elle still wanted to set fire to a Jordan effigy, Violet had moved on from enraged. Her chest tightened that he’d left without a word, and if she were brutally honest, that her anger had built a wall between them, and she’d blocked off all communication with him. That part of it was her fault.

J.P. paid all of his mom’s bills and caught up the past due balances after discovering mail hidden around the house. And for weeks, he spent Tuesdays through Thursdays working in Nashville. The other four days were in Glencoe telecommuting and dealing with his mother's health issues, home repair problems, and lawyers tasked with helping him sort out her estate.

And getting her settled in at the memory care unit was a feat within itself. The move was sometimes against her will, and she accused him of “getting rid of her,” then at other times she was “happy in this lovely place.” He was never sure of his mom’s mental state. He’d placed the family mugshots on the wall of her new room, and that she liked.

“Jordan, wait up a moment,” Bob said, one Tuesday morning at the end of a meeting. When they were alone, he began. “I know it’s been tough on you, splitting your time between here and Illinois.”

“Sure, but I’m working remotely, and keeping up with everything.” Mostly… it had been difficult. A couple items had slipped through the cracks, he yawned through meetings. And he was sometimes answering emails at midnight, but it was what he had to do.

Bob sat forward in his seat, folding his hands on the desk. “You’re brilliant, hardworking, and no one can say any different, but, you haven’t been the same since Violet left. You lost the confidence of your staff, and now you’re not even here two days a week. Now, I understand,” he continued, raising his hand to keep J.P. from interjecting, “it is very important with what’s going on with your mother, and I cannot fault you for that. You’re an honorable man, but you’re running yourself ragged. And Medi-Health is still fighting to stay alive. And we need someone who can devote all of their energy to the task.”

“But, I’m still able to—”

“No, you’re not. Jordan, you’re fired.”

“What?” Fired? No one had ever terminated him from a job. His vision tunneled.

“The best I can do is to pay out your salary for the rest of this year as severance.”

He took a moment to absorb that he’d get paid his salary for the rest of the year—eight months. Bob was giving him the gift of not being pulled in two directions.

“Go where you’re needed, and hopefully that will help keep you for a while.”

“I don’t know what to say. Why?”

Bob smiled. “Let’s just say that I could have used help dealing with my parents aging. Just make sure you pay it forward one day.”

“I will,” he said, blinking back tears. He stood and offered Bob his hand.

“Security is waiting outside the door,” he said, shaking hands. “They’ll take your badge, and if you need anything from your office let them know. You can’t walk around in here unchaperoned any longer.”

Unemployed and with no ties left to Nashville, he moved to Glencoe. He contemplated telling Violet what had happened and where he’d gone, but it would confirm her beliefs all along, that he’d leave no matter what. And there was the part about her hating his guts for having her investigated. The onus was on him in this situation. He told Brent, but that was it. He didn’t mention Violet, but she was never far from his mind.

With nothing else to occupy his time, Jordan stood in the middle of the piles of stuff that filled the living room. He had to go through all of it. He’d found bills and his mother’s good jewelry stashed in odd places throughout the house. According to what he’d read, that was common in people with Alzheimer’s. And when he’d found the deed to the house inside a cookbook, he couldn’t scoop everything in these piles up and toss it in the dumpster like he’d planned.

The local trash company offered construction dumpsters that they delivered and sat on the front lawn. Once he filled it, he’d call them to come pick it up. It worked for him, but he’d have to go through each paper, book, and magazine to make sure she had filed nothing important inside. The tedious task would take forever, but he picked a corner of the room and planned to work his way around until finished.

About four hours into it, he’d hauled almost a quarter of one wall to the dumpster when a knock came at the door. A young blonde stood there holding a covered plate.

“I just wanted to welcome you to the neighborhood,” she said, holding out the plate. “I live four houses down, and seen you around town. So I thought I’d stop in and introduce myself. I’m Cassie.”

“Thanks,” he said, taking the plate. “I’m J.P.”

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