Page 93 of One More Chance
Harper
Wakingup after crying yourself to sleep is taxing on the body. You spend all day stiff, a discomfort all the way down to your bones that doesn’t go away no matter how much you stretch or bend or try to relieve it. Despite knowing there’s nothing I can do, I stretch my arms up over my head, arch my back, wiggle my toes.
Last night was my second night home, back on the farm. It was my third night crying myself to sleep. Like all healing, I’m sure it will take time to get past this blip in my life. In a little while, this will be nothing more than a dark memory—the moment Jensen walked in, to the moment he walked out.
Of course, until then, I’m left replaying our last interactions over and over again.
Jensen never came to bed that last night. I woke the next morning to him packing his bag for California. We moved around each other in silence, packing and avoiding. The car ride to the airport was filled with more silence. It was so deafly quiet and tense in the Uber, the driver turned on music just for the sake of noise.
When we arrived at the airport, Jensen silently helped me with my bags, handed me a ticket home, and for a moment, I held my breath as he leaned in and kissed me on the forehead. He ran the pad of his thumb over my jaw as he gave me a halfhearted smile, and then turned toward his gate in the opposite direction of mine.
Since I’ve been home, he hasn’t tried to contact me. He called Cora and had Cora call my sister just to make sure I made it home safely. It would seem even Cora didn’t want to contact me directly. Of course, Lyla’s not here, so then she called me. I broke down and confessed everything to her, sobbing into the phone all over again just yesterday. Luckily, she’s coming home today.
She and Gentry spent their honeymoon backpacking through Ireland, seeing every inch of the countryside they could fit in. They even extended their trip just to see more. Hence, why they’re not back yet. But I’m excited to see her, excited to hug her. Shamefully, I need to lean on her yet again to heal my heart. Or at least to distract me from it. Either would do at this point.
After I shower and dress, I find Nan on the porch and offer to help her snap the green beans she’s working on. Mindless repetitive work will be my distraction and help pass the time until Lyla arrives.
Taking a bowl into my lap, I start snapping the ends off and throwing them into tub between us.
“Tell me what’s on your heart, baby. I waited to ask. Seemed like you needed a little time,” she says, her voice gentle and caressing.
“Oh, I’ve gone and made another mess, Nan. No surprise there.”
“What was the first mess you made?” she asks.
“Charles.”
“And the second?”
“Jensen.” I huff out his name, trying my best to hold back the tears brimming my eyes.
“I need to tell you some hard truths, baby. Are you ready to hear them?” she asks.
I nod, unable to actually speak.
“Now, first, let’s talk about this Charles mess. I fail to see how that was your mess. A devoted partner, that’s what you were. Even when it got tough.”
I press my lips together as she continues.
“The way I see it, Charles is the only one who made a mess. Didn’t know what he had, didn’t want to know,” she says, stilling the swinging porch with her feet. “And that’s okay because sometimes people don’t deserve to see you, the real you. I think deep down you knew that. You were never your whole self with him. Ever.”
“I tried to be,” I croak, my voice breaking mid-sentence.
“I know you did,” she says, patting my knee with her hand.
All bean snapping operations have stopped. I stare down into my bowl, unable to move my hands or anything else.
“Now, this Jensen mess. Tell me about it.”
I recount all that happened between us. By the end, I’m crying again, but I don’t try to stop. I just let it all out. After several minutes, I finally pull myself together.
Nan sits there quietly, absorbing all I’ve told her. “Well, my dear, that is your mess. A man—a good man—opened his heart to you. Maybe that wasn’t his intention in the beginning, maybe it happened to him the same way it happens to everyone. Suddenly. Without rhyme or reason or sense. And you denied him. But why? That’s the part that truly baffles me. Why did you do that?”
I wasn’t prepared to answer that. I wasn’t expecting to be asked why.
I straighten my back, sniffling and tell her what I’ve been telling myself. “Because, Nan, it’s too soon. It’s too complicated. My home is here, and he travels. And I know I already said it, but it’s too soon. I shouldn’t be jumping from one serious relationship to the next.” I breathe all this out as fast as I can, gulping in a breath when I finish.
Nan looks at me, studying me, taking in my rushed excuses with a precarious look in her eyes.