“What’s this?”
“Your vacation fund. And the keys to my cabin at Songbird Ridge. That should be enough cushion and sanctuary to help you figure out what you really want.”
“What the hell am I supposed to do for a month?”
“I don’t know. Write a book. Start a project. Start a business. Marry the girl.”
I stare at the empty spot on my ring finger. “I’m already married.”
I don’t say any more, and my eyes communicate the fact that I will not say any more.
Pops doesn’t seem fazed by this new information. Clearly, he’s seen everything.
“Then that should be enough time for you to figure out how to get your wife back, or get a divorce. Either way, it’s forward movement.”
I hold in my hand more money than I’ve ever had in cash in my life. And the keys to what I have no doubt is a luxurious cabin in the Blue Ridge Mountains, all to myself.
Pops knows how to speak my language. He knows all I care about is saving money and minding my own business, so he’s made it easy for me to say yes. I know I’ve been an idiot, or I seem like an idiot for turning down one promotion after another, but this offer would be true stupidity for me to turn down.
And I’m truly grateful for him. “Thank you, Pops. I’ll see you in a month.”
I stand up and go to the door, and he says, “Somehow, I doubt it.”
I guess we’ll see.
The moment I arrive home from the plant, I kick off my work boots, toss Pops’ envelope on the bed, and go to the sole window of my studio apartment. There, I open the lid of the tiny wooden box I keep on the sill. Inside, the faded silver wedding band gleams dully in the afternoon light. It’s silver in coloronly. It’s basically cheap metal that has been known to turn my skin green. But I don’t care. I slide the band on my ring finger anyway.
Workers are not allowed to wear jewelry at the plant. Some guys get tattoos on their fingers, which is admirable. But I’d rather get through my day without thinking about her. I save up that kind of thinking for when I go home at night.
The cheap band fits differently than it did years ago.
I make a fist and close my eyes. The memory is still so fresh and feels like a knife in the gut. Imarried Maddie on spring break at Sunrise Beach. We had just turned 18, and all we could afford were a couple of shitty, cheap rings from the gumball machines on the pier.
As I do every day, I grit my teeth and bear the pain. Just for sixty seconds. And then I reach for the whiskey.
This time, though, something switches in my brain.
The pain that I usually feel is still there. Maybe it even intensifies.
Something else is there with the pain, too. Like a ghost from the other side, trying to get my attention through a medium. It’s trying to tell me something important.
I don’t want to drink to forget this time. I don’t want to shut up the proverbial ghost.
So then, what is that feeling that’s following the pain?
My eyes glance at the envelope that sits on the bed.
I know what the feeling is. It’s something I haven’t dared to feel in years.
Hope.
Chapter
Two
One monthlater
Maddie
