Sacha
It's amazing what a woman can do when she has a goal.
I was in the midst of packing my suitcase for yet another road trip for work, when a knock sounded on the door of my apartment. It wasn't just any knock but the knock. My neighbor Melanie and I had a specific knock, three short then silence, followed by two more knocks. That way we knew who was at the door. Living alone, you couldn't be too careful.
I opened the door to let her in, and she blew me a kiss as she went straight to my kitchen.
"Hey, girl. What's cooking?"
Melanie's question was rhetorical, but I answered anyway. "Nothing. But I have some cheese and crackers laid out on the counter and some wine in the fridge."
"That's why I love living next door. You always have the good stuff."
It really was the good stuff. But then, I'm a liquor and wine sales rep so I have an edge. Plus, a trip to the gourmet section of my local market that afternoon had been a success. I'd scored some aged fontina, sour cherry chutney, and garlic salami. Melanie sniffed the tray, her dark eyes lighting up.
"This will go perfect with that bottle of Shiraz, won't it?"
"You bet. Go ahead and pour us some, I'm almost done packing."
As I reached the bedroom door, I heard Melanie ask, "Where are you going this time?"
Travel was one of the things I liked about my job-sometimes. The long hours on the road would often make me lonely. But when I visited a new town, there was excitement about the possibility of writing a high-dollar beverage order. Of course, there was also anxiety over striking out. But there was always hope.
This time, though, I needed to score big. I'd set myself a monthly sales goal that was nearly impossible, not only to gain extra pay but because I was vying for a promotion to regional manager. I was on a mission-I had a dream to finance and failure was not an option.
"I'm going to this little town up in the mountains called Tilly. Have you heard of it?"
"Yeah, my band played in a bar there once. Years ago."
Melanie entered the bedroom and handed me a glass of wine. Then she sat on the bed, crossed her long legs, and took a sip from her own goblet. Dressed in yoga pants and a faded tee shirt, with her long, dark locks in a ponytail, she looked nothing like her onstage rock diva persona. I adored her. Her band, Sparker, was really good, and she sang like an angel gone bad.
"You recall the name of the place?"
"Nah. I heard it burned down or something. But the town itself is cute. Like a little European village smack in the middle of the North Georgia Mountains."
I threw some lingerie and a sleep shirt in the case and zipped it shut. I tend to travel light.
"I've heard it's nice, but I'm only staying for one night. The last guy my company sent up there came back virtually empty-handed. No chain restaurants, and the bars in town are run by locals who are not fond of newcomers. But the city recently passed an ordinance that relaxed the liquor laws, so I figured maybe it was time to try again."
"Maybe. Well, if anyone can do this, it's Sacha Rowan, the Queen of Liquor Sales in Atlanta. But take time to have some fun while you're there."
I picked up my glass from the nightstand and held it up in a toast to Melanie's confidence in me. "Well, I'll be working most of the time. Not going there for fun. C'mon, let's eat."
We stood at the kitchen counter, talking as we nibbled. I'd almost cleaned out the fridge, so there was an assortment of veggies and fruits to go along with the cheese and crackers. I listened to Melanie gossip about the neighbors while I glanced around my apartment. It was small, but I loved everything about it-the dark wood floors, white walls, and eclectic décor that had taken me months to find. It was decorated to suit me and no one else. One of the perks of living alone.
But those perks were few, and I had a long-term plan to change my status. I was doing everything in my power to make my dream come true, and if it did, I'd never be lonely again.
~*~
Friday morning, I called a few clients to make sure their orders had gone in correctly before the weekend. Even though I was used to driving all over Atlanta, it was a welcome change to be heading away from it for a few days. Between increasing traffic and non-stop road construction, my days had become torturous. I wasn't getting any younger, and the hours I've been putting in sure weren't getting any shorter.
The drive to Tilly was uneventful, except for the phone call from my mother. Julia, bless her heart, loved to keep track of everyone she knew on social media, including my ex-husband, Kevin. I rarely had the time or patience for it, but she told me anyway.
"Mom, you know you're gossiping, right?"
I was born in New Jersey, and we moved to Georgia when I was in middle school. I'd lost my northern accent, except for a word or two. But my mother's "Jersey voice" made every story she told sound dramatic.
"I swear, Sach, I'd bet a million bucks she's pregnant again. Not even trying to hide the freaking baby bump."
"What part of 'I don't care' do you not understand?"
It was a bald-faced lie, but I'd never admit it. I actually did care that Kevin's new wife was pregnant again. Even though it was none of my business.
It was because of her I was now listening to my mother discussing the cause of the worst year of my life.
The fact that Julia was hundreds of miles away didn't slow her down much. She still called me, her only daughter, nearly every day. Even so, I missed her. Especially the past few years while I was going through hell with Kevin and his antics. Lately, with work and all the traveling, I rarely had time for social media, thus the phone calls from her to keep me updated.
"Well, I thought you'd like to know. Where are you going now? How are you ever going to date if you're always on the road?"
"I'm not worried about dating. And I like my life the way it is."
Another lie, but I was working to change things.
When mom remarried five years ago and moved back to New Jersey, Kevin and I had already been married for two years. I thought we were happy, working together at his catering business, buying a house, the usual married life. I'd wanted to have kids right away, but there always seemed to be a reason why it wasn't the right time. He never came out and said he didn't want children, but he never seemed excited about the prospect either.
Mom's voice on the car speaker was skeptical. "Really? Like your job and that tiny apartment are enough. I know you better than that."
"It's fine. For now."
"Mmhmm. Well, I still can't get over how he treated you. It's been almost two years since you split up, but still. Now, to hear they're having another baby…"
I gripped the steering wheel, forcing down the anxiety that reared every time I discussed having children. My mother wanted a grandchild as much as I wanted to give her one. What she didn't realize was how it hurt to be reminded that I would likely never be able to conceive. I couldn't bring myself to admit it out loud, though, and she had never addressed it directly, either.
"Yeah, I know, Mom. This will be their third child. Not our concern, really. I have to go now. Call you tomorrow."
I didn't want to be reminded of how my marriage ended, but now the memories came flooding back.
Eventually, I had grown tired of waiting for the perfect time to start a family and told Kevin I was no longer on the pill. After a huge argument, he agreed we'd try to conceive. I was happy and hopeful, but somewhere deep inside I could sense his heart wasn't in it.
We tried for two years, with no luck. My periods had always been irregular, even when I was on the pill, so every month it was a continual cycle of raised hope and bitter disappointment. Kevin began to avoid my sexual advances, saying he was too tired or not in the mood. I chalked it up to the stress of trying to conceive and decided we needed to take a break. I left for a two-week vacation to visit Mom and see some old friends. I thought some time apart might rekindle our spark, and when I returned home, we'd be happy again, and I would finally conceive.
Maneuvering my little compact car up the winding mountain road, I realized now that vacation had been the beginning of the end. It was a decision that at the time had seemed to be inconsequential. I had never been so wrong about anything in my life.
~*~