Page 14 of Make You Love Me
She lets out an audible exhale and collects the can of green beans that rolled against the light pole base. “No. Jackson’s with him.”
“I didn’t mean to offend you, it’s just…” Feeling awkward, I stack the boxes of cereal and pasta into a tower and lift them into my arms.
“It’s what, Nora? You were worried about him?”
“Yes, actually.”
“That’s new.”
I take a moment to calm my rising temper before my tongue says what my brain is thinking. Rarely do I bother with that, but the shitshow casserole has already been assembled, and I don’t need to mess it up further by adding my salty seasoning. “Josie, just because our relationship didn’t work out doesn’t mean I didn’t care for him.”
“Well, your actions said otherwise.”
I swallow the pile of salt my attitude poured into my mouth in response to the comment and try again. “My car is right there.” Her head swivels to take in her saving grace a few steps away. All she has to do is accept that the devil isn’t the one offering it and get in.
“Okay,” she surrenders, shifting the heavy bags in her arms. I take a few to relieve the load. “I’d appreciate a ride. Thank you.”
“You’re welcome.”
We drop the groceries into the trunk and take off without further incident and in haunted house silence. But now that I have a captured audience, I attempt to file down her hatred of me. “How’s the apartment?”
“It works.”
First pass at it, complete failure. As I search for another safe topic, she sits up suddenly, her eyes zeroed in on something in the distance.
“Oh! A yard sale. And they have a table.” Lost in her excitement, she seemingly forgets who she’s with, and sweetly asks, “Mind if we stop?” She leans on the dash to get a better view of the items as I pull up behind another car and park. “Thanks.”
The door flies open, and she rushes across the small grassy area before I turn off the engine, leaving me behind. Guess we’re doing more shopping on our four-block drive. When I catch up, she’s already clutching a stack of yellow, orange, and brown dishes straight out of the seventies.
“I love anything vintage,” she says to the older woman with a button-down plaid shirt, jeans, and fanny pack behind the table, tracing the edge of the table she saw from the road. It’s antique mahogany in exquisite condition, with carved legs and six matching chairs. “How much is it?”
“Four hundred,” the woman says, but Josie’s shoulders slumping in response has her adding, “or best offer.”
“On second thought, it might be a little big for our apartment. It’s beautiful, though. I’ll just take these.” Her smile fades to disappointment as she tosses a bundled set of silverware onto the bowls, juggling the heavy stack like a clumsy waitress. They shift and lean as she reaches for her purse.
“Why don’t I hold those?” Her head swivels in surprise at my presence, and without giving her a chance to be stubborn, I secure the dishes in my arms.
“There’s another sale down around the corner if you’re interested,” the woman snaps the tension between us, and Josie passes her a ten-dollar bill.
“Thanks,” she says and turns to me. “I’m going to jog over there to see if I can find anything else for the apartment.”
“Sure, but why do you need all this? Aren’t you moving back to New York when Jordan returns to the base?”
“Sydney didn’t tell you?”
“Tell me what?”
“Let’s put those in the car and take a walk.”
I follow her back to the car, too stunned by her tender delivery and warning about more secrets to think for myself.
The next yard sale is within view when she finally breaks the silence. “I’m staying in Richmond for the foreseeable future, and Jordan’s not going back.”
“What?”
“The accident happened on the day after he left the base for the last time, honorably discharged by choice, of course. Not because of his injuries, as you probably think.”
“I didn’t know he…I thought he wanted to make the military his lifelong career. And that he’d go back to serving after he healed.”
