“You drooled,” David said, pointing to Jonathan’s mouth.
“Thanks, buddy,” Jonathan said. He gave the kid a high five before he wiped his mouth and got ready to deplane. As he walked up the jetway, Jonathan turned his phone back on and a few notifications popped up, including a new voicemail. The voicemail was from Zoey.
Jonathan smiled to himself. He assumed Zoey went home and crashed since he hadn’t gotten any texts the night before. She must’ve left it before her shift at the spin studio. Listening to it would be his reward for getting out of Phoenix Sky Harbor.
The voicemail was three minutes and forty-two seconds long.
He quickly texted his buddy Seth and let him know they landed. Seth worked in IT, and they had struck up a quick friendship when he started, frequently getting lunch together on Fridays. He graciously offered to pick him up at the airport so they could go straight to work. Jonathan grumbled at the thought of possibly going into the field that day. The week before, he had staked out at a softball field for hours to catch the target throwing with an arm he claimed needed surgery. Being in the field, waiting for a target to do something worth capturing, sounded brutal. Hours alone, letting his mind stew was not a good idea.
The phone burned in his hand, knowing that he would get to listen to Zoey’s voicemail as soon as he was out of this airport. He needed to hear in her voice that everything was okay. It felt off when he left her, completely different from the weekend when she was all smiles and jokes and she looked at him like she did in high school.
He texted Seth again that he was heading toward the exit.
He found Seth in his white Dodge Charger. The trunk popped for Jonathan, and he shoved his luggage in and closed it.
Zoey’s voicemail would be better when he got to work. That would be a shining spot in his dismal day of coming back from vacation.
“So, how was it?” Seth asked. He wiped his forehead, his dark skin already glistening with sweat. “Did you see her again?”
“Yeah, I did,” Jonathan said, a smile developing on his face.
Seth jumped in his seat. “There is something you’re not telling me. Did you sleep with her?”
Jonathan’s face hurt he smiled so wide. “Maybe.”
“Oh shit,” Seth said. “You have to give me details.”
“Soon.”
“Do you want to get coffee before we go into the office? I think we have a little time before the boss would get super pissed,” Seth said.
“Absolutely,” Jonathan said, without hesitation.
Seth and Jonathan arrived at work with large iced coffees. Jonathan walked to his cubicle and threw his keys on the desk.
“Welcome back,” Helen said from the cubicle next to him. Helen was a sweet, older woman who worked with the speed of an injured snail, but Jonathan thought she was delightful. She worked clerical for them, and he had to remind himself to assign tasks to her since it was easier to do them himself. “Did you see her?”
“Yes, I did,” Jonathan said.
“And how was it?” Helen said with delight in her voice.
“It was wonderful,” Jonathan said. Again, that smile returned that engulfed every muscle of his face. Even though it didn’t feel right when I left.
While Jonathan fired up his computer, he pulled an item from his messenger bag. On Sunday night, he had run to a Walgreens and printed out a picture from the wedding from his phone. Dan had snapped his favorite picture of all time: Zoey and him, holding their cocktails against the twinkle-light wall. His mom had found him the frame, and he played around with the placement of it in his cubicle, finally deciding on the lower desk, right next to his computer. He was sure people would eventually notice it and ask him about it. But right now, it was just for him.
Jonathan pulled out his phone.
He lifted it to his ear after pressing play and his smile disappeared as the voicemail continued, until he felt his throat bottom out of his chest. As the words barely registered in his brain, he had to press play again to make sure he heard it correctly.
Hi, it’s me. I was doing some thinking last night instead of sleeping. I…I can’t do this. Literally five days ago, I was dreading seeing you and now we’re talking about me moving. It’s so crazy and fast and I’m not ready for this. The weekend was so great and you’re so great. Jonathan heard a sob over the other end. Zoey’s voice cracked as she rambled, talking about the wedding and the lake and pie and carrots. There was a long pause until she said, I will always be grateful for the time we had. You were my first love and you will always hold a special place in my heart. I hope you understand but I...
The message cut off.
What the fuck?
27
Later that week, Zoey had gotten home from her lunch shift at Buonissimo Italiana and fallen asleep in her work clothes, covered in marinara sauce and a beer spill a half hour into her shift. Zoey was going on five days of unwashed hair, and she had substituted smudged mascara for eyeliner. Zoey felt tired all day long. Her heart was tired too. Jonathan had called her or texted her every hour on the hour. She eventually put her phone on airplane mode to avoid the constant reminders that she was a mess.
She had waited like a coward until she knew he was on a plane. She paced in her room, severely sleep deprived as she left a voicemail, basically saying it wasn’t going to work and she wasn’t ready. She eventually got cut off, but she had been talking for a while and wasn’t completely sure of everything she said.
She had regretted the voicemail almost instantly and wished she could reach through the phone and take it back. She wished she could be carefree and fun like she was over the weekend, jumping in lakes and getting drunk and dancing with Jonathan. In reality, she was a mess; her life was not at all together. But man, she wanted to have her life together. She wanted to be with him. So bad.
On Tuesday driving to the studio, Zoey’s vision blurry from lack of sleep and delirious from crying and leaving the longest voicemail of her life, Lillyvale looked different. It felt small, suffocating, as Jonathan said. Her schedule did feel like a noose around her neck.
Damn him for being right.
She had even started searching entry-level marketing jobs, doing the exact thing she was doing part-time at Cycle Yoga Love. In the Phoenix metro area, some of them were three times her salary. Her hand might’ve even slipped and bookmarked a couple on Indeed.
She had also started searching Google images of Phoenix to torture herself. The desert was so pretty.
But what was done was done. It was better this way, though she had stopped her thumbs from typing out a text to Jonathan an average of three times a day.
A frantic knock came at the front door. She sat up quickly and held her breath. She had been watching all the crime documentary series in pockets of free time. It had become the only thing she could fall asleep to. The storylines of men killing their ex-girlfriends were especially comforting.
Zoey collected a tennis racket from the hall closet and approached the entrance. She’d just watched one where the perp knocked on the door, and the victim had just let him in, like an idiot.
Not today, Satan.
Zoey stood about ten feet from the door.
“Who is it?”
“It’s Addison Varick.” She had known Addison for over fifteen years and she always said her full name. When she was at your door. When she called you. Zoey usually thought it was endearing, but today she was not so sure.