Page 88 of Homestead

I smile at him as we part ways. As soon as the conversation ends, the distraction dissipates and I’m heavy and blah again. I see Jimmy looking at me as I return to the group. I meet his eyes but don’t know what he’s thinking.

He doesn’t smile or make any sort of welcoming gesture, so I assume he still doesn’t want to be close to me.

Everyone is starting to gather around a firepit outside, as we’ve been doing nearly every Saturday since it’s gotten warmer.

The sun is low in the sky. It’s not fully dark yet, but the evening is full of shadows. Jimmy has turned away from me, so I sit on the corner of a blanket next to the Hurleys. Amelia’s mother is incredibly gracious and thoughtful, and she asks me several questions about my health and mood tonight.

I assure her that I’m just a little tired, and she leans over to give me a one-armed hug. “Okay, honey. But if you need anything—advice or help or anything—make sure you come to me. A good man can be a great partner, but they’re not all we need. Sometimes you need a woman to help you through things.”

Her kindness almost makes me cry. I nod and smile and mumble out thanks before she thankfully leaves me alone.

Jimmy’s dad brings out the guitar and hands it to Jimmy, who is sitting on a tree stump across the firepit from me. A couple of people suggest songs. Jimmy strums an easy accompaniment to the people who want to sing.

I don’t. I don’t know a lot of the songs, and I don’t have the energy anyway. But I’ve always liked to hear the music. My neighbors are lively—the visitors adding some excitement to our normal gathering—and some of them even start dancing.

I should be enjoying this, but I’m not.

I just want to go home, but then I’ll be all alone with a Jimmy who’s angry and disappointed in me.

And I still don’t entirely understand why.

Laura is sitting on the ground beside him, beaming up at him in a very obvious way.

He said he wasn’t going to kick me out, but there’s nothing stopping him from doing so. If I’m not who he wants me to be, he can find another woman.

Maybe he should have picked Laura. Maybe she could have done a better job, been who he wanted her to be.

The thought hurts like hell—like it’s literally ripping my heart out of my chest—so I try to file it away with other thoughts and reflections I’m not ready to deal with. But this one won’t go away. It sits in my mind and claws at me.

Wilson Turlington—a quiet, fortyish guy who lives in a small house down the way—got “divorced” from his wife a couple of years ago. Since there are no legal proceedings for it, it was simply declared. I’m not sure exactly how it happened—whether it was his choice or his neighbors’ expectations—but he didn’t turn his ex-wife out of his house. He still feeds and houses her even though he’s paired up with a different woman. They all live in the home together.

Maybe that’s what will happen to me. I’ll have to live in the tiny storage room while Jimmy moves on to a different woman and fucks her in our bed.

The possibility hits me with another wave of nausea. How will I ever survive that?

I decide right then and there that I won’t. I’ll never live like that. I’ll move back in with the Carlsons, or maybe the Hurleys will have me, and I’ll do everything I can to help out and support the household. I’ll never partner up with a man again.

Or else I’ll take the ATV we still have parked in our shed with its half a tank of gas and sneak back into The Wild. I’ll go back to Grandpa’s cabin.

I don’t care how desperate or helpless I am. I’ll never stick around to watch Jimmy live life with someone other than me.

I haven’t been listening to what’s happening with the music, but they must have recognized that Mack has a really good voice and asked him to sing. He sings a love song I remember from the radio as a child. It’s incredibly touching and poignant, and the random chatting in the background silences completely.

I can’t help but wonder if Mack loves someone and, if so, why he sounds so heartbroken about it.

Maybe it’s just the song. He gives us his typical grin when he ends the song.

Greta suggests he sing another, and Mack asks for requests.

I haven’t paid much attention to his companions—Cal and Rachel are their names—but they’re clearly a couple despite the age difference. They’re sitting on the ground together, leaning against a wall of the closest outbuilding. Cal’s got his arm around her. She’s leaning into him.

Rachel asks, “Can you sing something for Derek? He was?—”

“Cal’s son.” Mack meets the other man’s eyes across the fire and nods. “I know.”

I don’t know any backstory here, but it seems pretty obvious. Cal had a son and lost him.

Everyone’s lost someone. Some of us have lost everyone.

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