Page 60 of Fly Back to Me
“You don’t want to kiss me either. Haven’t even looked at me since you came through the door,” I challenge.
Jenna scoffs, crouching in her scrubs to grab a pod from under the sink. “You really know how to light up a room, don’t you?”
I shovel the last spoonful of cereal in my mouth, walking my bowl to the dishwasher. “I think that’s the way you curled your hair and did your makeup for work.”
She never used to doll herself up at her old job. I used to stare at her natural beauty before she exited the front door. She’d throw her straight hair up in a ponytail, and there were always these adorable stray pieces that fell around her face.
But ever since she switched hospitals, Jenna pays extra special attention to her appearance. It’s a stretch for it to raise alarms among all the other red flags, but I don’t think I’m off base.
In fact, I think the shoe fits perfectly.
“Are you fucking kidding me?” Jenna stands in front of me now, disdain swirling in her sapphire depths.
I hold her eyes, abruptly plucking the gel pod from her hand.“No, I’m not.” My body bends to prepare the appliance to run its course. “And for some reason, I’m really starting not to give a shit.” Once I snap the dishwasher door in place, I travel back through the foyer to make a left into my office.
My body sinks into the leather chair, palms wiping down my face through a deep breath. Thoughts of me and Jenna whirl about, my heart spasming with the chaos until images ofhermerge into focus.
Every now and then, I’ll concoct these visions of what she looks like. There’re these flashes of beauty that pop before me, but they’re too swift to snatch a hold of. And maybe that’s the whole point. Her beauty is just as unattainable as she is.
My head perks up at the sound of the running shower, and her blurred face evaporates from my mind.
I could’ve done this a month or two ago, but there was always an ounce of denial weighing me down. An ounce isn’t much, but when you know its removal will destroy your heart, you keep it around for as long as you can.
The thing is, I can still hold on to it.
But I don’tneedto anymore.
Eventually, my palm quietly twists the knob of the bedroom door upstairs. I cross the threshold, padding along the carpet to search the dresser and nightstands.
Nothing.
I peek over at the ensuite bathroom, knowing that the closed door is most likely locked with Jenna’s phone behind it.
With my time limited, I quickly exit the bedroom and jog down the stairs. And since I’m already in joggers, I shrug on my hoodie from the foyer before grabbing Jenna’s car keys.
Jenna knows I’ve been suspecting her of cheating for months now, so she’s cleaned up her tracks pretty well. I’ve only been able to speculate by the traditional signs, but the one thing about the truth is that it will always rear its ugly head.
A cheater gets sloppy after a while.
They start to tangle their lies or forget where they leave things.
I open the passenger side door of the white Wrangler, ducking to sit inside. My fingers pull the latch of the glove compartment, sifting through papers and napkins, but I fail to find what I’m looking for.
A long breath blows from my lips when I pull down the visors above the passenger and driver’s seat. Besides our photobooth strips missing from the clips on the shades, I still turn up empty handed.
When I flip the visors back in position, I reach down to open the center console. I nudge around a few random bills and charger cables, feeling hopeless until I find a folded piece of paper cuddled right in the center.
My fingers pluck the note out, opening it to see the hospital’s letterhead at the top.
Evergreen Hospital
511 Mill Road
Briarwood, Rhode Island 02949
You’re all I think about.
Every damn day.
