Birdie stood and picked up her purse, hanging it over her shoulder. She took a deep breath, released it. “All I know is that I can’t deal with this day in and day out.” Her eyes, when she looked up at me, were wet pools of blue and I felt my heart constrict painfully. “I don’t even know why I feel so strongly about it, but I do, and I can’t ignore it. I believe you, Hayes, when you say nothing happened in November. I do.” She looked down at the ring, covered it lightly with her hand, and then walked to the door. “But I don’t trust her, and I don’t want her here.”
I closed my eyes in a single long blink, listening as the door behind me opened and then shut. When I opened them, the office was empty. Hollow, save for the glitter of a diamond on a desk.
The house was dark save for the Christmas tree lights, and silent when I got home. I called for her anyway and walked from room to room, looking for her.
When I found the keys to her car on the coffee table, I sank down on the couch. The Christmas tree lights blinked a steady rebuke and after a minute I turned them off, unable to look at them.
She was gone.
“Don't ever tell me I'm broken if you will not be the glue, and please don't point out the fractures if that's all you're allowed to do.”
Tyler Knott Gregson
December 21│Birdie
CHRISTMAS WAS APPROACHING AND AS THINGS STOOD, I WOULD BE ALONE. I had moved myself out of the farmhouse immediately after my discovery, begging Remi for the futon in her apartment. She’d acquiesced, brought me Ben and Jerry’s, and rubbed my back while I cried that first night.
Okay. Every night.
Now, I sat on her couch and snuffled into a paper towel that left my nose as raw as my emotions. I had already used all the tissues. I needed to get it together. Shoppers were out in force trying to find last minute gifts and I had work later this morning.
Remi was already dressed for the day and sat opposite me sipping on a cup of coffee. “Are you sure you won’t come with me to my parents? I hate to think of you here all by yourself through the holiday.”
I shook my head. “I don’t want to see anyone right now,” I said.
“Well, you need to get up off your butt and stop feeling sorry for yourself. You made a decision, now you have to live with it.”
“It’s not that simple,” I responded. “Just because I made the decision does not mean the decision makes me happy.” I blew my nose. “I did not want to hurt him. But I’m tired, Remi.”
“Tired of what?”
“Never being put first. Never being chosen, you know?”
Remi shook her head. “Birdie, that man chose you every day for the last year. It’s time for you to wake up to that fact and choose him for once.”
I pinched my lips together. “He’s not, though. I have a legitimate reason for wanting her gone. I don’t think I’m asking too much. He’s choosing his job security over that…over me.”
“But don’t you want him to have his job security? For that baby to have a father with a job that he loves? To not have to worry about where the money’s going to come from?”
A knock came at the door, forestalling my response, and I looked at Remi in panic. “I’m not here,” I reminded her and rose to run into her bedroom.
This wasn’t the first time. The day I had left, he had called and texted without ceasing. He had come to Remi’s apartment and banged on the door until a neighbor complained and she answered. I had locked myself in her bedroom and refused to speak to him, and eventually he gave up.
I hadn’t heard from him since.
I didn’t understand why he couldn’t give me more than trust me. Believe in me. On a practical level, I understood his concerns about tenure. On an emotional level, though, it seemed like there should be some means of compromise. Some middle road he could take that did not include Serena Hansen’s presence in his office. He didn’t get it. I needed him to put me first. Not tenure.
When I thought about it, I didn’t think I’d ever truly been put first. Not by my parents, one of whom had made a career out of placing her needs first, the other of whom had thought only of his wife’s betrayal when he chose to commit suicide. Was it too much to ask that someone choose me?
And was I really willing to sacrifice our future — our baby’s future with both of his parents – for the sake of that emotional quagmire? Was that really the hill I wanted this relationship to die on — my feelings?
Remi was no help. She was compassionate and loving and sympathetic. She listened to my complaints. She dried my tears and brewed gallons of decaffeinated tea for me. But today was the first time she had given me her opinion on things. Usually this meant that she did not agree with me but wasn’t interested in arguing about it.
From my hiding place, I heard her open the door, murmur a few words, and then close the door. I peeked out and saw her looking down at a small white box. No one else was present, so I emerged and took my place back on the sofa. “What’s that?”
“It’s for you,” she said handing it to me.
It was a plain cardboard box tied with string. Nothing fancy. No markings to indicate where it had come from. I untied the string and pulled open the lid to see an object wrapped in wax paper. Before I even pulled the wrapping away, I knew what I would find.
A cream puff.
“Damn him.”
Remi peered over my shoulder as she pulled on her coat and readied to herself to leave. “Yeah,” she said. “That’s really terrible of him.”
I glared and set the cream puff on the coffee table. “You don’t understand,” I said, for what felt like the twenty-fifth time.
“I understand plenty.” She picked up her purse and walked over to the door. “I’m sure I’ll see you later. I have a few things to get for my parents, so I’m planning on being in town for a little while.”
Opening the door, she left. I stared at the box containing the cream puff for several long minutes, the apartment cold and silent around me. Then, with a muffled exclamation, I got up to get a fork.
At The Farmer’s Daughter, Maggie took a long look at my lank hair and puffy eyes and asked me to update the window display. I nodded gratefully. I’d much rather do that than deal with customers.
I was there, modifying it for the new year, when a blond woman walked past, did a double-take, and eyed me through the glass.
Serena Hansen.
I narrowed my eyes, and with a jut of her chin in response, she strode to the door. With a sigh, I turned to climb out of the window box.
“You!” She came to stand in front of me and pointed a scarlet-tipped nail in my face.
“In the flesh.” I gave a small shake of my head to Maggie, who was looking our way with concern etched into the lines of her face. “What do you want, Serena?”
“I hope you’re happy with yourself,” she hissed.
“I have no idea what you’re referring to.”
“You got me fired! You and your ridiculous accusations and petty jealousy.”
I looked at her in confusion. “Serena, I’m sorry you were fired, but I can assure you that I had nothing to do with that.”