walked to the door, arm in arm, and hugged again before Rosa climbed in and started the car’s engine, and didn’t move until the taillights faded into the darkness. She closed the garage door and glanced at the wall clock as she walked back to her bedroom. It was just after five.
She’d completed the majority of her packing the night before, and it didn’t take her long to brush her teeth and her hair, and wash her face. Her eyes seemed tired, but all in all, she looked a hell of a lot better than she had when she’d arrived in Delaware. Grief and sadness still dominated her emotions, but she had moments of happiness, like the one she’d just shared with Rosa, and she was laughing once in a while, too. She was ready to jump back into life.
After slipping into her jeans and a sweater, Ward pulled on her sneakers and closed the smallest of the three suitcases she’d brought with her. The other two were already in the car, and she quietly carried their mate to the front door and softly closed it behind her. A note contained her final good-bye to Cindy, and she was on Route One heading north to Philly just a few minutes later. She planned to shower when she reached the city and spend a few hours laundering and putting away the majority of her winter clothes. Although she knew March in the mountains could be cold, by April she’d need warm-weather gear. It seemed pointless to pack many sweaters.
Traffic was manageable until she reached Chester, but even then it still moved, and she pulled her car into her garage in Wayne only two hours later, next to the little red sports car that belonged to her tenant. Michelle Marker was a fourth-year medical student, worked constantly, and had agreed to live at Ward and Jess’s place while they were away. It was a win-win situation for all parties, and Ward was happy to see Michelle’s car.
“Welcome home,” Michelle said at the kitchen door. Wearing scrubs, her short hair slicked with gel, Ward couldn’t tell if she’d just finished work or was about to start, so she asked.
“Sadly, I’m just leaving. I wish we had more time to catch up,” she said, seeming to choose her words carefully. Ward hadn’t shared the details about Jess with Michelle, and she knew her tenant was curious about Ward’s sudden move to Delaware. But until Ward knew what was happening with Jess, she wasn’t sharing much with anyone. Only a few, very good friends knew the details of that night in Garden.
“Next time,” Ward said, and they hugged as Michelle raced out the door.
When the garage door closed and the house was quiet, Ward took a moment to look around. She hadn’t done that two months earlier when she’d been too blinded by tears, and even now it was hard. Jess was everywhere. Above their table hung a painting they’d purchased in Venezuela. On shelves next to the window lay trinkets from trips they’d taken and a few photos, all of the two of them together. It would be the same throughout the rest of the house, for they’d bought it together and painstakingly decorated and furnished it beautifully.
What would she do with this place if Jess stayed in Garden? She’d decided she’d wait six months, staying close by so she and Jess could see each other, and talk, and try to work this out. She owed that to Jess, and to herself. But for the sake of her sanity, she needed to have some sort of deadline for when she’d walk away, whether she was ready or not. If she didn’t, she’d be lost, floating, waiting. On the first of September, either alone or with Jess, she’d be coming back to Philly and picking up the pieces of her life.
Ward spent a few hours as she’d planned—putting away clothing, sorting mail, inspecting the house. When she’d worked up a sweat, she washed it away with a shower. At eleven thirty she pulled out of the garage again and weaved her way along the back roads until she found herself on Henry Avenue in Philadelphia, at Dalessandro’s, her favorite
She’d completed the majority of her packing the night before, and it didn’t take her long to brush her teeth and her hair, and wash her face. Her eyes seemed tired, but all in all, she looked a hell of a lot better than she had when she’d arrived in Delaware. Grief and sadness still dominated her emotions, but she had moments of happiness, like the one she’d just shared with Rosa, and she was laughing once in a while, too. She was ready to jump back into life.
After slipping into her jeans and a sweater, Ward pulled on her sneakers and closed the smallest of the three suitcases she’d brought with her. The other two were already in the car, and she quietly carried their mate to the front door and softly closed it behind her. A note contained her final good-bye to Cindy, and she was on Route One heading north to Philly just a few minutes later. She planned to shower when she reached the city and spend a few hours laundering and putting away the majority of her winter clothes. Although she knew March in the mountains could be cold, by April she’d need warm-weather gear. It seemed pointless to pack many sweaters.
Traffic was manageable until she reached Chester, but even then it still moved, and she pulled her car into her garage in Wayne only two hours later, next to the little red sports car that belonged to her tenant. Michelle Marker was a fourth-year medical student, worked constantly, and had agreed to live at Ward and Jess’s place while they were away. It was a win-win situation for all parties, and Ward was happy to see Michelle’s car.
“Welcome home,” Michelle said at the kitchen door. Wearing scrubs, her short hair slicked with gel, Ward couldn’t tell if she’d just finished work or was about to start, so she asked.
“Sadly, I’m just leaving. I wish we had more time to catch up,” she said, seeming to choose her words carefully. Ward hadn’t shared the details about Jess with Michelle, and she knew her tenant was curious about Ward’s sudden move to Delaware. But until Ward knew what was happening with Jess, she wasn’t sharing much with anyone. Only a few, very good friends knew the details of that night in Garden.
“Next time,” Ward said, and they hugged as Michelle raced out the door.
When the garage door closed and the house was quiet, Ward took a moment to look around. She hadn’t done that two months earlier when she’d been too blinded by tears, and even now it was hard. Jess was everywhere. Above their table hung a painting they’d purchased in Venezuela. On shelves next to the window lay trinkets from trips they’d taken and a few photos, all of the two of them together. It would be the same throughout the rest of the house, for they’d bought it together and painstakingly decorated and furnished it beautifully.
What would she do with this place if Jess stayed in Garden? She’d decided she’d wait six months, staying close by so she and Jess could see each other, and talk, and try to work this out. She owed that to Jess, and to herself. But for the sake of her sanity, she needed to have some sort of deadline for when she’d walk away, whether she was ready or not. If she didn’t, she’d be lost, floating, waiting. On the first of September, either alone or with Jess, she’d be coming back to Philly and picking up the pieces of her life.
Ward spent a few hours as she’d planned—putting away clothing, sorting mail, inspecting the house. When she’d worked up a sweat, she washed it away with a shower. At eleven thirty she pulled out of the garage again and weaved her way along the back roads until she found herself on Henry Avenue in Philadelphia, at Dalessandro’s, her favorite
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