Page 62 of Second Chance Vacation

This can’t be happening.

This can’t be happening.

With that, like a lullaby, I lull myself to sleep.

TWENTY-FIVE

JACKSON

The sun streaming in through the blinds wakes me from my slumber. I instinctively reach for Gen’s side of the bed only to find cold sheets and no sign of her. Nine times out of ten, I'm awake before her, but I suppose she is anxious about our trip home today.

I sit up to look around the room and notice her suitcase is packed and sitting by the door, prepared for our trip home. She must have gotten up really early, which seems vastly out of character.

Despite her absence, the smell of lavender and vanilla still fills the air, making me ache to go back. The past few weeks with her have felt like a second chance, but the mood today seems sour, as if we both know that we’ve been living in a dream, but it’s time to wake up. Although I have the urge to stay in bed, I get up and begin packing my own belongings, noticing that she has managed to wipe our bathroom completely clean of her existence.

The tiled room even smells of bleach from her scrubbing our existence away from the shower and each other’s lives. Our flight doesn't leave until this evening, so there is really no urgency to get packed before I go downstairs, but with Gen's insistence on getting a jump on it, I choose to follow suit.

I know things will be different when we get home, but I ache for them to stay the same.

My job at the firm starts on Monday, and I have a lot to do, but none of those tasks on my endless list entice me to leave this house.

Carrying both of our bags down to the entryway, where I drop them on the tile, I notice the house is eerily quiet. I poke around in every room to no avail until I find the three of them lounging out by the pool. Savannah and Wes are floating around on the inflatable chairs while Gen sits with her nose in her Kindle, completely entranced by her story. A grin paints her face.

Remembering that this is exactly who she is, her grin spreads to my own. It's who she has always been, lost in the fictional worlds painted by others. It really is no surprise that she went on to be an English teacher.

“What are you reading there?” I ask her, startling her from her trance. Her grin falls instantly along with the pit of my stomach.

“Oh, nothing.”

She quickly looks back down at her device without giving me a second thought.

Something's off about her, and I'm not totally sure what. I’ve never met anyone who is so good at going from hot to cold in a matter of seconds.

Last night she was completely engrossed in us.

This morning she seems more distant than the day we arrived.

I feel a pang in my chest at this realization, but I try not to read into something that I don't know is real or just in my head.

“What time's the flight?” I ask Savannah, pulling the couple from their freshly engaged bliss.

“We need to be at the airport by four PM,” she responds before jumping off the float and swimming to the edge of the pool. Her expression of concern bothers me as her eyes meet mine before flicking toward Gen and back. While I'm relieved to know I'm not the only one who sees something is off with her, it makes my stomach drop to know that it is obvious enough for Savannah to notice.

My breath hitches in my throat as Gen stands up, heading back into the house. I hope she's about to return. When I realize she has taken her Kindle with her, I know she's not coming out for a while.

“What happened?” I ask Savannah.

“I honestly don't know. She was fine last night. Joyful even. But this morning, it's like a completely different person, and I don't know why. She won't talk to me about it.”

Wes’s eyes jump to mine for a split second before looking to Savannah.

“Why don't you go try to talk to her?” Savannah asks, nodding her head toward the house.

I can't decide if that's an amazing idea or the worst idea possible. When she gets like this, it's nearly impossible to get through to her.

Nodding at Savannah, I head back into the house to find Gen curled up on our bed with her eyes closed.

“Are you okay?”

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