Page 31 of Absolution

I grip the back of my chair and close my eyes.

What the fuck, Jackie.

She has to come back soon, right?

She doesn’t. Not the next day. Not the day after that. Not even the week after that.

She video calls, sure. Talks to the kids, asks about Levi’s numbers, tells Iris her hair looks cute, tells Jemma she misses her stories. But every time I ask her when she’s coming home, she just says,“I need a little more time.”

Time. That’s all she ever needs. Time, I don’t have. Time I’m spending keeping our kids alive. Keeping this family afloat.Keeping myself from driving to that house and banging on the goddamn door until she faces me.

But we can’t risk that. Not with Levi.

Dr. Lin reminded us how lucky we’ve been so far, that no one from outside our bubble has brought anything in. We can’t chance it now. Can’t let a single exposure undo everything we’ve fought for. And I tried, really. But after the second week I had to call my mother, had to take that risk.

She was surprised. I don’t blame her; I haven’t exactly leaned on her much in the last few years. Dad chose to finish recovering at a private facility out in Montauk, so she’s been alone in their house in the Hamptons, bored and quietly miserable.

All she needed was a negative COVID test and we were good.

She drove all the way to Texas the next day, only stopped to get gas and use the bathroom, wore three masks anytime she got out of the car, stayed in our garage with the portable heater for two days until we cleared her ourselves.

She’s trying. I’ll give her that. But she doesn’t know Levi’s meds. She doesn’t know his monitors or his triggers or the signs to watch for. He’s become independent, but he’s still a kid.

So, I’ve had to stay alert. Eyes everywhere. Zoom in the morning, schoolwork by noon, blood pressure check, oxygen check, meds. Then repeat. Then lunch. Then naptime. Then court filings. And more Zoom.

And every single day that ticks by, the bitterness builds.

What the hell is she doing that’s more important than this?

Every time she says“I miss you”over video call, I bite my tongue. BecauseI miss youonly matters if you come back.

By the timeMarchrolls around, the government finally lifts the isolation ban, and the world begins to breathe again.

And Jackie? Jackie finally decides she’s ready to come home.

But by then?

It’s too late.

I’m done.

Chapter Eleven

Jackie

I only went out the door to get some air. That’s what I keep telling myself. I wasn’t planning to run. I wasn’t planning anything at all. One minute I was washing dishes, trying to stay upright, the next… I was outside. Walking.

I don’t know how I ended up at my parents’ house. I don’t remember the route I took. I wasn’t carrying a bag, not even my phone. My car keys were still in the dish by the door.

But when I saw the house, something in me exhaled. Like my body knew before my mind did, that I needed to be there.

The porch light was still broken. The wind had knocked the old chimes against the window like they used to. My parents’ bedroom light was off, of course. They weren’t here anymore.

I went around the side of the house, climbed up the old lattice like I used to when I’d sneak out as a teenager, and slipped in through the window of my childhood room.

Everything was the same.

Same blue curtains. Same twin bed with the sloped mattress. Same bookshelf with my old paperbacks, lined up like I never left.

---