“No problem. I thought you may have changed your mind.”
“No. Not at all. I’ll be there in a few.” I hang up and rush through getting presentable. I slip on the summer dress my mother insisted that I pack and ditch the flip flops for a pair of ballet flats. I touch up my makeup in the bathroom mirror and brush my straight brown hair. I grab my abandoned bottle of water on my way out the door and wash down anxiety medication about the time I make it to the parking lot where my rental car is waiting. I swing the door open and jump in, scorching the backs of my thighs on the smoldering leather interior. “Fuck!” I hiss, pulling my knees up as I turn the key.
Thankfully, it takes me only seven minutes to get to the BBQ restaurant Terry and his wife, Ellen, arranged for us to meet at. I look up at the marquee one more time, verifying that I’m in the right place, about to be near a man who has part of Jacob living inside of him.
Because Jacob died, he gets to live. I’m still not okay with it. I’m stuck in a perpetual state of “it’s just not fair” and I don’t know if I’ll ever shake it.
I step out onto the sidewalk and take a look around like Jacob drilled into my head. Being married to a police officer means knowing every safety technique and trick known to mankind. Being victimized once means making sure it never happens again. I’ll never rely on that elusive sixth sense again. I can hear Jake’s voice in my head.
“Have the things you need in your purse at all times. Keep your phone charged. Make sure your pepper spray isn’t too old and is in an easily accessible pocket of your purse. Never confront an assailant. If all else fails…run. Scream. Draw attention. Keep running until you find help or help finds you. If you’re forced into a physical altercation with an assailant, use the one-on-one combat techniques that you’ve been taught. Eyes, ears, nose, neck, groin, knee, leg. All you need is a moment to get away. Be strong, Sadie. Be strong and you can do it.”
I go over his safety speech in my head and take another look around at my surroundings. A few people are milling about. It won’t be long before the dinner crowd begins filling the streets, walking to and from bars and restaurants.
It will be evening by the time I can make an excuse to leave. I’m sure I’ll cite my day of travel as the culprit, when, in actuality, I’ll likely just go back to my hotel room and channel surf until it’s time for a little room service before a night fighting against sleep simply for fear of what I may dream about.
I walk into the restaurant and come to a stop near the hostess station. My eyes scan the crowd of patrons looking for a man and a woman matching the description Terry gave me.
I spot them at a table against a window. Bile churns deep in the pit of my stomach. A thin mist of sweat sprouts up across my hairline. Trying to ignore the wild thumping in my chest, I play Jake’s words back to myself, holding tight to them like a security blanket.
“Be strong, Sadie.”
I will my anxiety medication to kick in already. I can’t disguise my unease well enough to make it through this. The medication will help.
Terry is wearing a red baseball hat with a swordfish on the cap. His wife, Ellen, is sitting beside him, her blonde hair, cut in a short bob, showing off highlights of soft white shining in the sunlight that’s coming through the window. They are just as Terry described.
I inhale deeply. In through my nose, slowly out of my mouth. It’s so difficult pretending to be pleasant. It’s even more difficult for me to pretend that I’m managing the grieving process. I’m not managing it. It’s managing me.
A polite, tight smile tilts up the corners of my mouth just enough and I make my way across the restaurant to the couple who got a second chance thanks to Jake. It’s not fair.
I need a glass of wine and a cigarette.
I try diverting my thoughts with plans to stop at the nearest convenient store on my way back to the hotel after this torture.
“Terry?”
His head pops up and his hazel eyes widen with surprise. They both scoot away from the table and stand to greet me.