When he broke up with me, my first thought was how hard it would be to find someone else who would understand me that same way, who would be satisfied with only that much. On top of that, my family loves him. In fact, my parents think he’s perfect. They couldn’t stop talking about him after they met him, saying he was exactly the kind of man they’d always pictured for their daughters. They’d be devastated if they found out we broke up.
“Yeah,” I tell Shake. “I’m sure. Look, I’m flying back tonight, so maybe we can talk about all of it then.”
I had booked the latest flight available for tonight out of Houston. Maybe it was optimistic of me, thinking this would take less than a day to sort out, but I’m a good negotiator. It’s a key part of my job. And there’s no reason we can’t both be professional about this. At the end of the day, this is a deal like any other. There’s something I want. And though I don’t know what it is, there must be something he wants too. And once I figure that out, I’ll make him an offer he can’t refuse.
I almost smile at the thought. He’s never seen this side of me before. Never seen me go allGodfatheron somebody. He doesn’t know what I’m capable of. But after today, he will.
“You’re…you’re flying back tonight?”
I frown. “Yeah,” I say. “That was the plan at least, and so far nothing has changed.”
“Really?” Shake’s voice sounds more normal now. There’s a hintof relief in it that wasn’t there before. “That’s great. So, everything’s okay, then? That’s why I was calling, because it sounded like things were going to be bad. Like, really bad. I wasn’t sure…But if you’re still going to fly back tonight, maybe it’s not…maybe it’s not what I was thinking.”
My frown deepens. Has my lawyer been talking to Shake? Sharing information with him? I mean, they are friends. Shake is the one who referred me to him. But if there is news, neither of them has shared it with me. My lawyer only told me that there’d been no response. He hadn’t given any indication that things would be particularly bad once I got here. Unless…Is Shake jealous?
It seems absurd. After all, he’s the one who broke up with me. I’d always been honest with him about my situation. He’d been fine with it, until we started talking about plans for the future. I’d told him I was going to make things official, that I was sending the papers, and that had appeased him for a while. He started organizing some meetings with political advisory groups for us. Our first was scheduled to take place in just a few days, to talk about the viability of the two of us running for office. We’d planned on framing it as a joint run, hoping to capitalize on the novelty of a couple running together for two open seats.
And then he’d found out that the papers weren’t signed.
“How long have you been sitting on this? It’s been months, hasn’t it?” he’d said, his eyes wild. “Have you…I mean, we’re supposed to meet with the team in three weeks. We’re supposed to talk with them about running— God, Meena we’ve talked about gettingengaged.”
I’d tried to tell him I’d been working on it, but in truth, I hadn’t followed up as much as I should have. I’d cared about it. I’d wanted it over just as much as he did. I’d just kind of let it fall by the wayside.
“I’ll do it,” I’d told him. “Before the meeting, I’ll get it done.”
He’d just shaken his head, his hand trembling as he ran it over his mouth. “I can’t do this. You need to…you need to fix this. You need to do whatever it takes to sort your shit out, because otherwise…” He’d let out a rough breath. “I can’t be with you like this, waiting for you to make up your mind. I can’t jeopardize everything I’ve been working toward. I mean, this run, this meeting, we’ve talked about doing all of it together, and if we can’t do that, I need to figure out something else. I can’t just—” He’d stopped, looking at me as if I was a stranger. “We’re done. Until you get this figured out, we’re done.”
And I’d just watched, my mouth parted in shock, as he’d walked out the door.
This trip was supposed to be my way of showing I’d taken everything he’d said seriously. But it’s also for me. This is a chapter I have to close before I can start a new one. And I’m ready for that now. I’m ready to move on.
“So, we’ll talk later tonight?” I ask him again.
He clears his throat. “Yeah. Okay. And just…be safe. If things look like they might get worse, just get out of there. Maybe look at booking an earlier flight?”
“Sure,” I reply, even though I’m not quite sure what he’s talking about. Does he actually think I’m going to be in danger here? Withhim? I almost scoff at the idea, but then the car turns down a familiar street, and the sound dies in my throat.
The trees are taller. I don’t know why that’s the first thing I notice, but it is. When we first moved into this neighborhood, everything was new. The sidewalk was freshly paved. Little saplings lined the block, each one at a perfect distance from its neighbors. And they all had a nylon band circling the trunk, connecting each one to a stake in the ground. The stakes must have been there to give the trees support or something. To help them grow.
Whatever it was, it clearly worked, because none of the trees have them anymore. They all stand alone. Strong. With nothing tying them down.
“Shake, I have to go.” He responds with a goodbye, but I barely hear him. My mind’s too busy playing a weird game of past versus present.
Mrs. Patterson used to live in that house. That small, one-story home with the wraparound porch. I used to see her gardening, her gloved hands pulling up weeds, her large hat blocking out the sun. She waved at me every time I walked down this way, which was rare. I was in a strange sort of self-imposed exile in those days. I locked myself in my room with my bar prep materials, studying at all hours of the day, fueled by dread and panic that I might fail the bar exam. Again.
Goosebumps prickle up my arms, and I rub them away. She probably doesn’t live there anymore. The bushes in the yard are overgrown. Scraggly. She wouldn’t have ever let them get that way.
The car turns left, drawing us farther into the maze of this suburban subdivision. Drawing us closer to the cul-de-sac where I once lived.
I was surprised when I found outhestill lives there. Not just in the same neighborhood, but in the same house we’d rented. From the property records I found he bought it a few years ago, but I can’t understand why. Back then he’d always called it a “starter home.” I’d hated that. The way he made it sound temporary from the very beginning. As if it was just a stepping-stone to something bigger and better. I’d liked our home as it was. At one point, I thought it was perfect.
Warm red brick. A fireplace with a mantel. A backyard with a tall old tree, Spanish moss dripping from its branches.
A tiny kitchen with barely any counter space. A living roomwith a secondhand couch, and two bedrooms on the second floor. In the guest bedroom, where I spent a great deal of time, there was a large window facing out onto the street. I angled my desk to face it so I could glimpse the outside even if I couldn’t be a part of it.
The house was small, but back then it was my whole world. Back then, it was ours.
I blink as that house comes into view now. It takes me a second to recognize it. It’s the same shape and size, with the same driveway to the right leading to the garage.
