Jayson: A New Adult / Coming of Age Romance (25 page)

G
race halts
me before I can leave the breakroom. “Girl, I don’t know what happened with you and Jayson, but you are definitely not yourself. Your aura is so dark right now. It hurts to see you like this. I just want my best friend to be okay, not simply say you’re okay, but truly be okay. If that means you sit your butt down and talk to the man, then that’s what I want you to do. My senses tell me something’s off-kilter,” she whispers with concern. I place my hands on her shoulders and look her straight in the eyes to be sure I get through to her.

“Grace, I love you to pieces, but this is something your psychic senses can’t help. It’s too late to fix things, and neither one of us saw this coming because we were both so caught up in the excitement, even you with Castiel. We were too close to the situation…I have to accept it, and you have to accept it, okay? Of course Jayson wouldn’t tell his brother about messing around with someone else on the side. He knew Cast would come straight to you.”

“But—.”

“Plus, if he truly had an explanation, he would’ve presented it by now, Grace. It’s been almost a month. I know you mean well, but I am honestly not in a place to hear anything positive about Jayson Zephyr. That man set me so far behind in life that I don’t know what to do with myself. Now, put it out of your head. I have, and we both have work to do.”

I walk out onto the floor and leave Grace pondering a counterargument. I don’t have time to hash and rehash what went wrong with the Zephyr boys. I have to focus on getting through my four-hour shift. Every five minutes, the tension in my neck and shoulders tightens a little bit more and I discover I’m thinking about him again, no matter how many times I banish Jayson from my thoughts. Across the design and décor store, Grace stands at the cash register casting forlorn glances in my direction, but I ignore the looks.

The easygoing courtship she has with Castiel is nothing like the searing flame between Jayson and me. Now that things have come to an end, I feel completely burnt out. That’s what passion does, I guess. You pay for everything in the end. The worst part is I don’t even get to skulk away and lick my wounds. Life calls. There’s work, school and damned bills, and none of it gets any easier just because I’m going through the biggest disappointment of my adult life.

“I hate you, Jayson. I swear I do,” I mutter angrily to myself.

I creep down an aisle that gets little traffic and make myself scarce, instead of lending a willing helping hand on the floor like I normally do. My head abuzz with a thousand questions I can’t answer gives me a headache. I watch Hank walk the floor, probably looking for me to screw things up, having just got off probation after one too many customers complained about my knack for providing unsolicited design advice. At this point, I wish the guy would just give me a break. I wish
the world
would give me a break.

Mom’s voice rings in my head. “You made your bed; now, lie in it.” I can’t help but think I should’ve listened to her when it came to Jayson. She warned me he was no good for me, albeit for entirely different reasons than what it turned out to be. Could it be true that mother knows best?

I glance at my watch about two and half hours later, pleased I managed to stay unbothered for nearly half a shift. I take a lunch break and avoid Grace because I’m not trying to take part in what she clearly still wants to discuss. Not to mention, I don’t want to treat my best friend poorly. I just want to be left alone. So, I sit in my car and munch on a dry sandwich before tipping back inside and finding another aisle to hide from customers.

After successfully doing not a damn thing all shift, I note with aggravation a woman walking toward me as if her very shopping experience depends on flagging me down. “Of all the people working this evening, she has to come to me,” I moan. I roll my eyes out of her line of sight and then turn to her with the biggest, brightest fake smile I can muster pasted on my lower face. I’m sure it doesn’t reach my eyes, no matter how hard I try.

“Can I help you?” I ask tightly.

“I don’t know if you can, but I hope you may,” she titters at the grammar joke. I look her over. Dressed in a seasonal sweater knitted with a snowflake design and wearing earrings shaped like cute little snowmen, I’d bet my paycheck she’s a middle school teacher. She just has that look about her. Right down to her sensible shoes.

“
May
I help you?” I amend my offer.

“I’m looking for…” She refers to a handwritten list in her hand. I notice elegant handwriting, items meticulously checked off. I also notice her nude nail polish looks immaculate, unlike the chipped frosted pink on my hands. “I’m looking for temporary wallpaper, preferably something with a very modern design. Does this establishment carry that?”

“Right this way,” I supply by way of answer.

“Oh, excellent!”

She follows me across the store to our wide selection of paints and wallpapers, a section clearly marked with a big red sign so it’s hard to miss. I have no idea why she couldn’t find it herself, but since it’s my job,
que sera
. The chatty schoolteacher takes the cross-country walk as an opportunity to regale me with her life story. I can’t help but ungraciously think,
Lady, I will never see you again. Why, oh why, do you think I care about your recent divorce, your prenup or your house hunting woes?

“And, I finally found this charming turn of the century house, but it’s a rental property, you understand. Unfortunately, the property manager won’t allow me to make permanent changes, so this is my next best option to cover the hideous paneled walls. I was considering a design motif and thought about bringing in a little twenty-first century flair, but I’m terrible at decision-making when it comes to some things. I like to make sure I’m right. That’s why I’m here.”

“Of course, Ms…”

“Sampia. It used to be Mrs. Tannehill. Back in grade school I used to introduce myself as Tia Sampia, pleased to meet ya. Ha! I thought it was funny…But, wow, yes, you guys have a huge selection, don’t you? Oh, with this many choices, I’ll likely be in here all evening, deciding.” She plants a fist on her hip and the other hand on her chin, scanning the wall of sample wallpaper. I look away, pondering my escape.

“Um, is there anything else I can help you with?” Before I duck back into my hidey-hole.

“Which one would you suggest? I’m trying to complete my bedroom with something ultra-modern and eye-popping, but not too space age, I guess. No loud colors. Or maybe loud colors. It depends. I do like bold colors. Heh! You see my dilemma?”

I hesitate, eyeing her up and down. Is she the sort of customer who’ll run back and complain to Hank that I stepped all on her toes and gave her undesired advice? Hmm…but she did ask. “Well, I don’t want to take away from your shopping experience,” I demur.

She blinks at me. Like a schoolteacher staring down the student who refuses to raise their hand to answer, she insists on calling me out. “Don’t be shy. You work here. You probably have an eye for this sort of thing.”

“Well, I do major in design,” I gloat slightly.

“There you have it! So, which one?”

I eye the racks of easy to install temporary wallpaper we have out. From soft pastels to bold art deco, anything the average customer might want is there, but I don’t know a thing about this woman or her style, other than she clearly needs help in the picking out sweaters department. I groan on the inside. What if I tell her something she doesn’t want to hear? Boggled by the possible pitfalls, I stammer, “Y-you really can’t go wrong, no matter which one you choose. Don’t you see anything that catches your eye?”

“Oh, everything, and that’s why it takes me forever to pick something. I’m a Libra,” she says, as if that explains it all. I’m sure Grace would know what that means, but Grace isn’t here right now. I glance around for someone else to foist this indecisive customer on so I don’t screw myself, giving her the wrong advice. When my phone jangles in my pocket—completely against store policy—I pull it out without thinking.

“Excuse me! I’m sure that can wait. I don’t have all day,” Ms. Sampia Pleased to Meet Ya says testily. My eyes bounce up to her. She’s staring pointedly at the phone in my hand.

“Uh, um…” I look back down at my cellphone and see a number I don’t recognize. I wonder with barely checked hope if it’s Jayson calling from a different phone number. If it is, it’s the first time he’s called me in over two weeks, and I can’t even answer. I guiltily shove the phone back in my pocket. “I’m sorry about that. Where were we? Wallpaper. Right. What about that one?” I point blindly.

Ms. Sampia crosses her arms and glares at me, unmoved by my random wallpaper selection. “You know, I could’ve covered my eyes and pointed at something, too. You didn’t even look.”

“I-I-I did!”

“And, you think that would be appropriate for my bedroom? Are you trying to be funny?”

I hastily look over at the wallpaper I pointed out and gasp in horror. It’s a print clearly meant for a children’s room, a deep cerulean blue covered with childlike drawings of fish, sharks and mermaids.

“Ma’am, I am so sorry. I’ve had the worst, I mean
the worst,
day. I’m sure we can find something that suits—.”

“Normally I wouldn’t be so hard on a person, but I came here expressly because all my friends recommended this store as top of the line in design and customer service. Everybody has bad days, and we make the best of them.” Her tips were tight and her cheeks pink. “If you don’t like your job, perhaps you should consider another profession, because it’s clear design isn’t the one for you, if you can’t even pick out wallpaper.”

I cringe at her scathing assessment. “I’m really sorry,” I mumble dejectedly.

“As a matter of fact, I’d really like to speak with a manager about the quality of service I’ve received. This was supposed to be a treat for me. I help people all day…”

“Please, I’m already in enough…” I trail off. Ms. Sampia pushes past me in a hurry to be a tattletale. Hank appears out of nowhere at the end of the aisle, and my spirits sink even lower because I know exactly what this means. “Trouble.”

M
y vision blurs
as I stare down at the figures swimming on the page, numbers that add up to way more than what I’ll have before the bills are due. As if to mock me, my textbooks and electronic tablet sit in a pile next to me, and I have assignments due that I’m not in the right frame of mind to tackle. Never mind that I’m off work early thanks to being Fired with a capital F.

“What am I gonna do?” I ask in a hollow, scared voice. Gnawing on a loose nail, I look around at my house and see nothing but failure. The entertainment center Jayson helped build, the furniture he helped pick out, the very house he renovated—I’ll lose it all if I don’t figure out a way to dig myself out of this mess. Every single memory hurts. I’ve already lost him. “Why is this happening to me?” I squeeze my eyes shut and count to ten to keep from breaking down. I’m, like, ten seconds from losing it.

Out front I hear Grace’s car squeal to a halt on the street that passes my house. I know it’s her because it sounds like the car comes in on two wheels, and she’s the only one who drives like a bat out of hell on this quiet, sleepy boulevard. Seconds later, there’s a pounding at my door. I hop up from the kitchen counter and throw the door open. Grace flies at me, wraps me in a tight hug. It threatens to wring the life out of me, but I need the comfort. “Oh, honey!” she croons.

My tears fall immediately. “He-he said he had to let me go!”

“I know, Kit. I know. I heard everything. I can’t believe that woman complained about something so trivial. Wallpaper, for goodness sake!”

I pull back, battling sniffs and blubbering. “It’s not her fault. It was mine. I was totally off my game tonight. But now I—now I don’t have a job!” I wail.

Grace eases the door shut behind us and patiently ushers me to the sectional to let me cry on her shoulder. I sob until the pain in my chest eases, leaving me with nothing but this weight on my shoulders and a grateful sense of not having to go it alone. At least for the moment.

“We’ll figure out something,” she murmurs soothingly. “There are other jobs. You don’t have to give up hope. Now, I want you to take deep breaths and try not to think about the problem right now, alright? We need to get you centered. Breathe in, breathe out.” She closes her eyes and starts to hum, with her fingers pinched together as if holding up the air around me. I take one look at her and cry even harder.

“Oh, Grace, I can’t not think about it!” I squeak. “I tried to get everything right, but I just screwed everything up. What is wrong with me? Am I cursed? Is that possible? I lost Jayson. I lost my job. I’m about to lose my house. And, I’ve been so out of it lately that my grades have taken a hit, too. We’re a month into the spring semester with midterms coming up soon, and I’m behind in every single class. Do you think I’ll flunk out? Do the thing, Grace! Tell me if you see certain doom in my future.”

“Let’s not get too worked up, Kit. We’re trying to center.”

“No, I’m trying to figure out what I need to do. You’re the one humming at the cosmos. Tell the dang cosmos to fix this mess.”

“What you need to do? Nothing. You do nothing tonight. You curl up in your bed and sleep on it. In the morning, you’ll feel rejuvenated and ready to face the world, and—who knows—you might even dream up your next move. Kitrina, dear, this is only your first heartbreak. From what I hear, you’ll come out stronger for it.”

I chuckle humorlessly. “I’m so broken down that there’s no lower to go from this point. Of course I’ll come back stronger.”

“Here, let me help you up to your room.”

Groaning, I let my best friend tug me up from the sectional, push me up the stairs to my bedroom. Still in my work clothes, I don’t bother to change out of the khaki pants and loose blouse, and she doesn’t force me. Why bother? I won’t have cause to wear them again. Grace folds back my covers and pats the mattress. My tears start up again at the sight of the big bed, no Jayson on his side to help take up space.

“I don’t want to sleep alone,” I hiccup.

Grace snorts with laughter. I play back in my head what I just said and giggle softly too. “Girls night?” she suggests.

That’s how we wind up downstairs with a fort made with the pillows from the sectional. I turn on the television and we watch old DVDs deep into the night. She listens to me vent about the whole ordeal, including the breakup with Jayson. After all that’s happened, I have no venom left, and she doesn’t have any more advice for me. She simply supports me.

The next morning when I wake, exactly as Grace predicted, I know what I need to do. “Grace,” I murmur. She pauses with a coffee mug to her lips. I pick over my scrambled eggs, debating on whether I’m ready to tell her my plans or not. I take a deep breath and go for it. “I think it’s time. I think it’s time for me to go back home to my mom.”

Grace blinks in surprise. She twists her hands in her lap anxiously, eyeing me as if she wants to tell me it’s a bad idea. I know exactly what she’s thinking. Grace advocates my independence. She was the one who encouraged me to move out in the first place. Well, I did it; look what it got me. I square my shoulders and prepare myself for a debate that doesn’t come.

“Are you sure?” she simply asks me.

I nod dismally. “I don’t think there’s anything else for it. If I try to stay here, I’ll lose everything. Maybe if I go back to Candace, she’ll at least help me keep the house.”

“Now a moment of silence for the death of a brilliant rebellion,” Grace jests lightly. She hops up from the couch and pads into the kitchen. I hear the clink of glasses, look up and see her pulling down a bottle of wine, a special bottle I bought for New Year’s. (I spent New Year’s Eve watching TV and eating an entire pan of brownies.)

“Oh, Grace, it’s the middle of the day!”

“You know what they say. Besides, we both need this. You having to give all this up is a tough pill to swallow. Hopefully this spoonful of sugar helps the medicine go down.”

We laugh together, albeit sadly, and drink half the bottle. When the shock of the decision wears off, Grace sticks around to help me pack up my few portable belongings. Neither one of us bothers with classes for the day, which I know is a bad thing, but I simply don’t have it in me. It takes several more hours of watching movies, talking about inane stuff to avoid the topic before I finally feel I can avoid it no longer.

“I’m about to call her. I think you better go.”

“I can stick around for moral support if you’d like.”

“No, it’s something I need to do alone, Gracie, but thank you. I just…I know there’s going to be a lecture, and you’ve already seen me cry enough.” I smile sadly, and Grace pats my hand reassuringly before finding her things so she can leave.

When the house is finally empty and quiet with nothing to keep me company but the sound of my heartbeat in the dreadful silence, I reach for the phone that weighs a million pounds and dial my mother’s number as if walking to the guillotine.

The phone rings once, twice. She answers. “Good afternoon, Kitrina.”

Her tone is so civilized I hardly recognize her as the woman who told me I was as good as dead to her. I swallow my pride and tamp down on the instant irritation. Now isn’t the time for a squabble. “Hi, Mom,” I murmur. “Are you busy?”

“I’m forever busy, but I can always spare a moment for you. I’m on the way to a business brunch with…an investment banker friend of mine, no one you would know. What do you need?”

I idly wonder what she’s doing meeting with an investment banker in the middle of the day instead of working at the hospital, but mother has all sorts of friends and an unpredictable schedule. I draw together my frazzled nerves and try to tell her what’s going on without actually telling her. “Well, you see, I’ve run into a little trouble with my, uh, job.”

“Yes?” she prompts. Is it my imagination, or did her voice just tick upwards with a hint of anticipation?

“And...” I sigh. I have to force myself to say it. “I got fired, Mom. My back is against the wall. I really just need to come home and revamp if—well, if the offer still stands.”

“Kitrina Anne, you know my door will always be open to you.”

“That’s not what you said the other day.”

“Ah, yes. We both said some things we didn’t mean. For instance, I take it your knight in shining armor turned out to be the stable boy if you’re crawling back to me.” She chuckles, and I cringe at her choice of words. She just couldn’t resist making a verbal jab at Jayson. I shake my head, knowing some things will never change.

“Jayson and I aren’t together anymore. I hate to say it, but you were right about him. He turned out not to be the man I thought he was. So, if you don’t mind, I’d rather never speak about him again. Please,” I add.

“That’s understandable. Take it from me, Kit, he’s not even worth your breath. Now, what time should I expect you so I can have dinner ready when you get home? I can cook something you like. I left your room exactly as you had it with the exception of refreshing the sheets. I knew you’d come back.”

“Don’t you mean you knew I’d fail?” I state glumly.

“Don’t be silly, Kit. You haven’t failed at anything. You lost a part time job and a shiftless boyfriend. You still have a lovely place to call home and a mother who loves you very much. Now, it’s time you put your head in the game. Let’s get you finished with school before you slip up and make this mistake again. I trust you learned your lesson.”

“Yes, ma’am.” I grit my teeth to bite back anything acerbic about what I “learned.” All I know is love hurts, money doesn’t grow on trees and eating crow means a tough bird to swallow. “I’ll wrap up some things over here at my place, and I’ll probably make it to your house around the same time you get off work.”

“Your place? My house?” Mom snickers. “Are you still holding out hope of keeping that distasteful little dwelling of yours? Oh, fine. It’s your money, your loss.”

“I plan to pay you back,” I remind her. “I may need a little more time.”

“Kit, I’m not concerned with the money you owe me. I only want you to be happy, and you’ll be happiest back where you belong. If you’re able to keep your love nest in the process, kudos to you. I have to go now. See you when I get off.”

I hang up the phone and stare at the wall as time inches forward while I feel like I’m stuck in the past. I see Jayson sitting next to me, smiling. The Christmas tree in the corner. We open gifts, giddy with plans for the new year, plans that have vanished into nothing. It’s like coming out of a a heart-stopping movie into an ordinary afternoon full of teenagers on skateboards . Who would’ve thought so much could change in a month? I wonder where he is and what he’s doing.