Page 81 of Present Tense

Is he playing it cool and moving to Chicago? Is he having the place fumigated? Why the fuck is his house wholly buttoned up? I need him to know I’ll fight myself for him. I’ll go against my better instincts if it means I get to have him. I’ve spent way too much of my time denying myself things for everyone else’s greater good.

It remains to be seen if I can fix this. But what I do know after my talk with Ethan is that denying myself happiness punishes both of us. I want to fill my soul with rainbows and marshmallows and figure out how to create a life where I float on filthy orgasms, motherhood, and cat hair. I’ll make amends with Tuxedo Cat. I stomp around the room. I want to scream at him. I’m on the verge of being super stalker-y. I know he told me to go away. Nope.

Fifteen minutes later, I’m standing in front of Bev’s condo. I buzz. Nothing. Shit. Is she gone, too? I slump onto a planter out front and toss my head. I cannot cry again. I don’t know how big Martha’s Vineyard is, but it’s an island. He can’t escape easily. I don’t know where the house is, but if I show up as a lunatic running through the towns screaming for him, I’ll either be arrested or I’ll find him. How crazed am I? I make a megaphone from my hands. “Universe! I surrender. Help.” I hate asking for help, but here I am, screaming at some imaginary entity to bestow help.

“Jillien?” My face shoots up, and I’m staring at Bev’s double knit slacks. I reach out and throw my arms around them. She puts her fingers through my hair. We stay like that for a minute or two. I don’t cry, but I feel as if I’ve given her the entire story without talking. I transferred it from my brain waves through the polyester elastic waistband pants. She knows. She always knows.

I look up at her.

“To your credit, you did tell me you’d love him. But it seems you’ve picked your son over mine. And mine, despite sanity, picked both of you over himself. You neglected to see that, dear. Come on. I have booze.” She walks toward her front door without looking back. She knows I’ll follow. I slump forward and find my balance. I stay behind her back.

“I’m here to pick him. I didn’t pick my son, either. It’s a long story. I apparently make bad choices. But he won’t listen.”

“Can you blame him? He’s never been chosen before. He doesn’t know how to react.” Then, with a woosh, she disappears into the building as I try to catch my breath and find my way through the revolving door she just commanded. I meet her at the elevator, and she turns to me. “I asked you once, do you know what you’re doing? I’m asking again.”

“Yes. I’m going to make him so happy. I’m asking you to let Ethan and I love him the way he deserves. Let me love him.”

She takes me in her arms. “You’re going to have to try and make up with Lisa.”

I don’t look at her. “Now you ask too much.” She laughs, and I pull out of her embrace. “But if it means I get to have him, I’ll braid her hair and make the damn dill dip for every party.”

She smiles. “I’ve always loved you, dear. Don’t fuck it up.”

“I won’t.”

She pulls a piece of paper out of her purse and scratches an address on it.

“Bev. Thank you. Thanks for giving me a chance.”

“Always, dear. And if this works, I’m going to need to meet that kid, the one that’s going to be family.”

I throw my arms around her, then bolt out of the building.

I’m sure I’m going to fuck this up, but I used to be a person who didn’t care about any of that. I just leaped without looking and usually landed in a pretty fantastic place. I forgot who she was until Fletch reminded me life is better without looking.

48

JILLIEN

I’m four cups of coffee in, and they’ve got me sharp. I’m laser focused, so I can keep his car safe on the highways. I hope he’s not too angry. I just took it. The more coffee I have, the more off the fucking rails I realize I’m traveling. I’ve gone insane. Even though I’m showing up, I don’t think he’ll leave with me. I don’t think I’ll be invited to stay, but I’m too far gone.

My head is all over the place. I didn’t know there was a ferry. Thought there was a bridge. Completely threw me for a loop after six hours of driving. I look possessed. Like, The Exorcist possessed. My eyes are bloodshot, and I spilled Diet Coke all down the front of me. But I don’t have a change of clothing.

I showered two days ago in Chicago. This is going swimmingly. I’m pretty sure he’ll slam the door in my face. I want to try and fail, or maybe we’ll live happily ever after in my psychotic break. There is no reality left, only my quest to get to his doorstep.

Sadly, the only dragons I have to slay are my own, and I’m not strong enough to do that right now. Finally, the ferry docks and I jump back into his car. I pull off and over to a garbage can. I rake the crumbs and gather all the cups and napkins out of the car. I bolt into a closing gift shop and grab a Vineyard Haven T-shirt and a cute terry cloth skirt. I splash water on my face and remove the grime from under my eyes. I apply what makeup is in my purse. Lipstick, concealer, and mascara. The staples.

I reach his house and Tuxedo Cat stares at me from the window. Fuck, I hate that tiny hell beastie. It’s like she’s protecting him. Something I should have done.

I sit in the driveway. I turn off the lights. It’s dark. It’s late. Now after this entire quest, I’m not sure I can get out of the car. What if he has company? What if he’s asleep? What if there’s a nice simple woman inside setting up a horribly wobbly dessert that no one really likes, but he’s pleasant to her because it tastes ok? I can’t make wobbly desserts. No way. Sundaes and hot chocolate, that’s it. I put my head down on the steering wheel and try to collect myself.

I’m not sure how long I put my head down. I might have dozed. I’m an idiot. Don Quixote wouldn’t have dozed off on his quest. He would have continued until the windmills were down. I should have eaten something else. Because then I could be sure this nausea was due to Tastykakes and Slim Jims, not nerves. It’s raining. The beat of the raindrops on the roof of the car feels comforting. I slump down in my new T-shirt and cross my arms. I don’t want to fall asleep, but it feels like I don’t have a choice.

“Get the hell out of my car, Jill.”

I sit up. I haven’t been out here more than twenty minutes. I swear. I wipe the drool from my mouth and glance at my Apple Watch. It’s almost midnight. Shit. I did fall asleep. It’s still raining, and he’s standing there in a yellow fisherman slicker and a bright pink and green plaid umbrella.

I get out, and he covers me with the umbrella. I smell him before I can see him, and it knocks the breath out of my body. I can’t believe he’s this close to me. I want to hold him so badly, but I gave up that right.