I hang up and shove my cell phone in the back pocket of my shorts. I slip my hand into my front pocket and pull out a small, black velvet jewelry bag. My heart shudders and I fight to keep the trembling to a minimum. With a deep breath in through my nose and out through my mouth, I find the courage somewhere inside to take the rings off that Jake put on. I bite back a strangled sob as the white gold bands slip easily off my thin ring finger. With uneven breaths, I drop them into the small velvet bag, tug the string, closing the bag tightly, and slip it into my front pocket before I can change my mind. I trace the tan line across my ring finger and take in another shaky breath, feeling heartbroken but proud of myself. I turn on my heels, taking one more look around my empty house. The boxes are gone. The furniture that I wanted to keep has been stored. I donated a good portion of my household things to the church I grew up attending. The Ladies Auxiliary Club helps struggling families and I know that someone will appreciate the things that I can’t hold on to anymore. They’ll appreciate the things that Jake’s hard-earned money bought. I think he’d be glad to know that he has helped someone else.
I take one last stroll through the home that I shared with Jake. I remember him chasing me down the hallway to our room. I remember him walking into our bathroom and joining me in the shower for lazy Sunday lovemaking. I remember us dancing in the empty living room to no music the day that we bought the modest little house that we’d planned to live in for so long. I remember him working hard to transform the garage into my personal studio. I remember him tripping when he carried me over the threshold for the first time. We fell in a heap onto the floor in the front doorway and laughed so hard we both had tears seeping from the corners of our eyes.
Tears pool in my eyes, but they aren’t all sad tears. They’re a mix, I guess. Tears of loss and happiness. Tears of joy and grief. Tears full of memories, good and bad. Tears of hope. That little part of me that hopes steps forward and dominates every emotion. I run my fingers over the light switch and turn the lights off for the last time. I shut the door and tuck the keys into the lock box the real estate agent attached to the handle of the front door. I shut the little door on the box, leaving the keys to our house locked safely inside. I turn and make my way into the front yard over to the oak tree. Our initials are still carved there, staking our claim, memorializing a chapter in my life when I was happily married to the boy who stole my heart when I was just a carefree little girl. Jacob Parker will always have that little girl’s heart. But the woman I am now has given her heart to a man that lives in lonely beach house in Tybee Island, Georgia, and I plan on giving him the rest of me. I just hope he still wants me.
I sigh deeply and pull the little package from my purse, stuffing it into the mailbox. I send it off with a silent prayer that when it reaches its destination, it will be received with an open heart.
***
July 4, 2013
The sun has scattered its essence across the horizon, boasting pinks and purples and glowing oranges. The fireworks will be peppering the sky soon.
My feet graze across the windblown sand with each easy stride. I take my time as I make my way north up the beach, soaking up my surroundings. I let the calm that I feel here in this place wash over me, bolstering my courage. I feel, smell, hear, taste, and watch everything around me. Seagulls call in the distance. The water is calm today. Whitecaps slosh on the surface, then settle down into the water from which they were conceived. The air is heavy and laced with the subtle taste of salt. The gritty warmth of the sand beneath my bare feet feels nice. I stop for a second and wiggle my toes down into the sand. My head tilts back as far as it will go and I turn my face skyward so that the barely there rays of sunlight can warm my cheeks.
I right my head, facing forward again, and take one step. One step is all I can take. One. The sight of Zander walking down the beach towards me stills my resurrected heart. He walks with long, relaxed strides. His body isn’t tensed, but his eyes are. My poor black sheep. I love him so much. He comes to a stop only a foot or two away from me. His hair flicks in the light sea breeze, making my fingers itch to run them through his cinnamon strands.
“You came back,” he states more than asks.
“I never left, Zander. Not really.”
He sweeps me up against him and breathes deep. His arms are so tight around me that I can’t fill my lungs completely. “God, I missed you.” He whispers his confession like it hurts and I know that it does. I know how he feels. “You said you love me.”
“I do,” I assure him. “I love you. I love you so much.”
“I love you too, baby. More than you’ll ever know.” He sets me to my feet and brushes a loose tendril of hair off my cheek. The sea breeze lifts and holds it back. I bring my palms to his cheeks. We both lean in and kiss each other with as much love and passion as we can. “Let’s go home, Slim.” He smiles a perfectly crushing boyish grin and I fall in love with him all over again.
“Okay.”
I think I’ve always been on my way to Alexander McBride. My journey has been tumultuous and unbearable at times, but I’ve stayed the course. I’ve run, crawled, walked, and stalled along the way, but I’ve never been on my way to anywhere else except right here. My perfectly imperfect Zander is my truth and my destination. He’s my home. He’s my proof of life.
My vital sign.
I’ve been pushed, squeezed, and cornered all the way to him. Always to him, my vital sign.
Epilogue
Sadie
19 months later…