Sparrow

“You don’t have to decide now.” Lucy bumped her shoulder into mine, laughing when she saw Daisy dancing around the truck like a drunk hippie.

We were standing in the middle of a trailer lot, looking for potential trucks for our new business. I was a few hundred thousand dollars richer than I was when I walked down the aisle with Troy, but also a few hundred thousand times less happy than I was right before our marriage fell apart. True to his promise, he’d never contacted me after that hospital visit. Not directly, anyway. Didn’t make any move on the divorce papers either. But I knew better than to think it was about the money.

We didn’t care about the money. It was about betrayal.

After I quit my job at Rouge Bis, he sent me my paycheck to my dad’s house. I bet he knew I no longer lived there, that I moved in with Lucy, since now I could afford the rent. I appreciated him not giving away he was still watching me.

Or was he?

It was bad to want him to follow me around. It was even worse to hope to bump into his employees or associates just so I could feel that he was still in my life. But in all honesty, that’s exactly what I wanted. I wanted him, but was all too aware of the divide between us. Of its depth. Of the gravity of the lies our relationship had been built on.

He buried my dead mom in a forest and didn’t even tell me.

Knew where she was all those years and never said a word.

He forced me into marriage so he could inherit his father’s fortune.

He. Was. A. Monster.

And yet, I’d give anything to have this monster’s claws back on my body, his cold eyes roaming my face. I missed the talks, the banter and everything this monster made me feel. Troy was the devil, but he breathed life into me.

“Earth to Birdie.” Daisy snapped her fingers, her hot-red nails dancing close to my face, reminding me of the ruby ring I took off not too long ago. Its weight on my finger was unbearable without Troy in my life.

“Yeah, yeah, we’ll take it.” I waved my hand, and both Lucy and Daisy jumped up in the air, hi-fiving each other.

“Group hug!” Daisy announced, and before I knew it, I was buried in my friends’ arms. I inhaled their scents, feminine and hopeful, closing my eyes, praying their happiness would seep into me. Sure, I was excited about chasing my dream. This was the original goal before he barged into my life. But now, even with this opportunity, these friends, that money—enough not only to build the career I wanted, but also to donate some to that homeless shelter down the road—life had an unpleasant aftertaste. Like nothing was going to be delicious again. Nothing would be blueberry pancakes and hot chocolate in the rain.

Nothing.

“I’m running into the office to tell them this one’s off the market.” Daisy bolted to the white trailer where the salespersons were watching us through the slits of their blinds.

They’d never come out to offer any help. I think they were under the impression that we were crazy. The truck was obviously hideous to anyone who wasn’t starting out a sugary crap business. I bet it had collected dust for centuries before we walked in and decided we were going to take it.

Lucy turned back to me when Daisy disappeared through the office door. “How’s your leg? Is your foot okay?”

I looked down to my cast. Every time I glanced at it, took a step or kept it dry when I was taking a shower, I thought about Brock. I supposed I should be more shaken by his death—the man died right in front of me. But the truth was he got what he deserved. The only things I couldn’t wrap my head around yet were the reason why my mom had left us, and Troy’s hideous secrets.

“Yeah, it’s a lot better.”

Lucy made a face like she knew exactly what wasn’t a lot better. That thing beating for no one inside my chest.

“It’s okay to miss him. It’s that Stockholm syndrome. It’ll go away.”

It won’t. I know it won’t.

“Sure.” I managed to flash her a smile.

Lucy offered me her hand, and I took it, as she helped me limp to the office to sign all the paperwork.

We were going to have our own business.

We were going to fulfill a childhood dream.

We were going to make freaking pancakes.

Then why did it all feel so pointless and sad?

“What if it’s not Stockholm syndrome, Lucy? What if it’s the real deal?”

“Then, my darling,” she said, speaking patiently, “destiny will find a way to get you two back together. Real love doesn’t disappear. It can turn into hate, and hate can turn into love, but those feelings won’t ever turn into indifference.”

She was right. Real love was cancer. All it took was one blink, and it would spread inside you like wildfire and consume you.

But that was okay, because I had a feeling that unlike cancer, real love didn’t die. Ever.



SPARROW



Six months later

“THREE…FOUR…FIVE blueberry pancakes,” Lucy shoved the paper plates in my direction, and I bent forward, handing them to the two women who stood at the front of the long line to our food truck. Jenna and Barbara. They were legal secretaries, and they came here twice a week. Would visit more, if it weren’t for their waistlines, they said. They always bought a few extras for other people in their office. Or at least that was their version of things.