Accidental Neighbor by Sharon Woods

Chapter 28

Jennifer

My feet feel like they are moving through concrete as I follow Thomas and the girls outside, feeling a drop in my stomach and a sour taste in my mouth. The delicious pasta dish Mom served up evaporated, replaced with a sour tang.

“Can we talk outside my house so I can let the girls inside to play with their toys? I don’t want Lily to hear this conversation. I think she heard enough.” The last few words come out harsh like he is angry at me. I don’t answer with words, I just nod.

He opens his door. “Lily, take Rose inside and play. I just want to talk to Jen for a minute.”

“Okay, Daddy.” She grabs Rose's hand. “Come, Rose, let’s play,” Lily calls.

They wander off together, and I stand frozen, clutching my elbows with my opposite hands to hug myself, preparing for the next minute. He spins and looks at me with a sadness that matches my own eyes. He puffs out a breath before starting. "I’m so disappointed with what went down. I don’t want arguments in front of my children. They have been through so much, especially Rose. I really wish it didn't happen."

His words hit me, and I wince, feeling my breath hitch and my eyes well. “Sorry,” I speak flatly. I don’t really know what else to say, wishing I could turn back time and tell my parents I had been seeing Thomas. It’s my fault that my dad acted the way he did. I can’t undo anything. I stare down at my feet, shuffling side to side.

I know I shouldn’t speak to my dad like that, but it’s a knee-jerk reaction to him rejecting the relationship. I didn’t think my dad would have had that type of reaction. He is always helping Thomas. If I had known, this meeting wouldn't have occurred.

My dad is aware how smart, sensible, and mature I am. I'm not like the average young woman. I wish he would see it from my point of view. But now he is about to cost me a relationship with the person I want.

My chest constricts as I stand here, and I slowly bring my gaze up to meet his stormy eyes. As they meet, he glances away. I watch his tight jaw tick before he drags his eyes to meet mine again, a new determination written in them.

“Your dad is right. I'm making you settle down when you should be working toward your work goals, traveling, partying, meeting a guy to start a family with… not settle with me and my family. You and I cannot be together; we want different things.”

I listen to the words leave his mouth, but I'm too slow to reply, and I'm sure I haven’t heard him correctly. My throat is dry and beginning to constrict, preventing me from talking. I simply just stare blankly into his sad, stormy eyes.

Don’t I get a say in what I want? Why won’t anyone listen to me? I'm too choked up to let the words slip past my lips, but I force myself to swallow, pushing past the pain. “But I don’t want to party or travel… I want this—I want you."

Staring hopelessly back at me, he sighs. “You're young.  You haven’t really lived. We want different things in life and that's okay… We are better off separating before we get the girls too attached… You need to enjoy life.”

I shake my head violently. “No. I don’t agree,” I spit out. I refrain myself from stomping my foot like one of the children at the center, frustrated from the situation. It would only nail his thoughts that ‘I’m young.’ I throw my hands in front and cross them, hugging myself even though I am the opposite of cold.

“It’s what I want.” His stare is hard and he speaks with confidence. I stand frozen, staring back. What can I say to that? My mouth drops open and my lip begins to tremble. And my hand grabs my throat.

His gaze flicks to the ground before returning, and I see a flash of pain, but just as it is there it quickly disappears. “I’m sorry. I have to go check on the girls.”

Nodding back, I say, “Sure.” I feel the beginning of tears form on my lashes, but I refuse for him to see me break. It will only confirm to him that I am some stupid young girl. If he doesn’t want to be in the relationship, I will not force him. I don’t need him to feel sorry for me and stay with me if it isn’t for him. I wish he would fight for us, but I’m the only one fighting.

I spin and walk aimlessly back to my house, my head swimming with the conversations that happened tonight, trying to make sure I didn’t miss anything. I rip open the door and slam it shut behind me, and the tears start to trail down my cheeks. I pick up my pace as I aim directly for my room. I want to be alone. I need to be alone.

Mom is washing the dishes in the kitchen sink as I stalk past the kitchen in a hurry.

“Are you okay, love?” She talks softly, obviously realizing I’m fragile and hurt by the emotions written on my face as she peeks at me.

I shake my head but don’t speak, fearing the sobs will leave my quivering mouth. I just want to be alone right now.

I continue moving to my room, passing the table that is now cleared of dinner. I spot my dad’s head above the couch, his face angled at the television. He doesn’t try to get up or speak. He can hear what Mom has asked but doesn't bother trying to apologize. That pisses me off. I just lost Thomas because of him. A simple sorry for his actions would be nice. I want to apologize for my behavior and actions but it’s not the right moment, feeling I’m about to break, so I jog the rest of the way to my room.

I slam the door shut, leaning back on it. My head hits the wood and I close my eyes. Warm tears trickle down my cheeks, my body feeling drained and heavy. Pushing off the door, I take a few steps and throw myself onto my bed, my face landing on a pillow. I thrust my hands under it and let out the sobs I have been holding in. I don’t know how long I cry for, but I eventually pass out from exhaustion.

◆◆◆

The next day I struggle getting myself out of bed; the thought of having to face the day had me hiding under the covers until the last possible minute.

My heavy feet hit the floor and I walk to the door like a zombie, still tired even though I slept all night.

When I arrive at work, I avoid bumping into Thomas as much as I can. I need some time to pull myself together. I was falling for him, and I thought he felt the same. How stupid was I? I knew I loved the girls, but my feelings had developed for him as time went on. I could picture a future with us as a growing family. But he doesn't feel or want the same, blaming it on me to focus on my goals. But with the work I have and with my social life, I was content before, but now I know what a taste of true happiness feels like, deep in my soul. I want more. So much more.

I see Emma preparing for the kids’ activities, squatting and pulling out colored blocks from the activity drawer. I wander over to her. “Emma,” I whisper.

Her head tilts up at me standing in front of her, her brows scrunched. “Jen, what’s wrong? Are you okay?” She drops the blocks and stands. I gaze into her eyes before briefly looking away, then I take a deep breath. This will be the first time I speak about Thomas breaking things off. I wish I didn’t have to, but it isn’t my choice.

My gaze meets hers as I stammer, “Thomas, uh, broke things off with me.” Why are the words so hard to say? Maybe because saying it aloud makes it more real.

Her eyes widen in horror. “What, no way. Why?”

Swallowing past the lump in my throat, I blink away the tears that threaten. I will not cry anymore. I can do this.

“He doesn’t want me to settle and thinks I should go and be my age.” I shrug my shoulders, trying to appear unaffected.

She shakes her head. “Oh, shit, Jen. I’m sorry.”

“You have nothing to be sorry for, but I need to ask a favor.”

“Yeah, of course, what is it?”

“If you could help me avoid him today and tomorrow, I just want some space to think, wrap my head around it all.” I don’t want any more poor me cards today.

She nods. “Yes, of course. When he comes in and out, you hide and I'll deal with him.”

“Thanks. Now, enough about that. Let’s set up.” I walk off to grab toys and set up some fun activities outside.

Knowing Emma will cover for me for a few days before the weekend is a relief. I want the time to digest and discuss it with Katie and Olivia and get myself together.

On my break I pull my phone out and message Olivia.

Jennifer: Are you free tomorrow night? Need to talk to you girls.

Olivia: Yeah, where are you thinking? Bar?

Jennifer: No, dinner. I'll book it and pick you up. Can you call Katie for me and let her know? I'll book Rosetta’s. Will seven p.m. work for you?

Olivia: Yes. Will do. See you tomorrow.

◆◆◆

I slept on and off again. Walking around at work, I’m yawning and my actions are slow. My eyes feel heavy and sore, but I know even if I canceled with Olivia and Katie, I wouldn’t sleep. I still have barely spoken to my family. Yes, my dad instigated it but he is a protective father. I need to explain my feelings for Thomas to my parents, but I am not ready yet.

I only speak when I have to, and neither Mom nor Dad brings up Thomas. I think from my messy hair and red eyes they know I have been struggling.

Leaving work at five, I get home, shower, and dress in some blue jeans and a chunky knitted sweater. As I leave the house, I peer over at his house, wishing I could go over there for the weekend. My stomach drops and my throat constricts. I try to slow my breathing down, and I rush to my car and drive off without taking another glance at his house. A few minutes later I pull up to Olivia’s house and send off a text.

Jennifer:Outside

Olivia: I’ll be right out

A minute later Olivia comes out her front door, stepping down her paved steps wearing black leather pants, boots, and a white shirt, her blond locks bouncing with every step. I smile a genuine smile. I’m feeling lighter for the first time in a few days. I relax back into my fabric seat, ready for the fun that is Olivia to come bouncing into my car.

Leaning forward, she pulls open the car door and climbs inside.

“Hey,” she yells.

A small laugh escapes my lips. “I’m right here, Olivia.”

“I know. I’m just excited to be going out again. I feel like since you have been loved up, you went MIA. Also, Katie couldn’t make it; she has to work.”

My lips thin into a tight line, and my heart rips again—definitely not loved up now. “Sorry, that’s my fault,” I mumble.

“It’s fine. I get it, really. I would disappear if I had a guy like Thomas. I’d ride him all day every day.”

I laugh at her, but it also punches my guts to think about how good of a lover in more ways than one he was. He was kind and considerate. “He ended things.”

“What!” Her head whips around so fast I'm sure she almost broke her neck. Driving off to the restaurant, I want to focus on something else.

I nod. “Yep, on Wednesday.”

“Why?” she asks.

“He said a bunch of things but mainly that he wants me to be out like other twenty-two-year-olds and not settle for him.”

“That’s nice, isn’t it?” I hear the confusion laced in her voice.

“Yeah, I can understand he is concerned but it’s the way he chose my life for me, like I should be clubbing and traveling. When have I ever been interested in that? He didn’t ask me what I wanted. I felt like it’s an excuse, like there is more.”

“Like he is hiding something?” she asks.

“I don’t know. I might be overthinking, but I never found out much about his ex, just bits and pieces. I didn’t want to push him. But it happened anyway.”

“You need to go there and demand the answers.”

I pull into a free parking spot at the restaurant. Turning off the ignition, I spin to face her. Lifting a brow, I say, “You know I won’t do that; I’m not you.”

She shuffles in her seat to push her door open. “I know, but don’t you want to find out?”

Do I? Yes, of course. But it doesn’t mean anything if he doesn’t want to give it to me. Pushing open the car door, I climb out and slam it shut before walking around the car to her side. We walk side by side along the brightly lit path. “I’m not forcing him to be with me or to give me answers. He should want to let me in," I huff.

Admitting that out loud was hard.

We walk toward the restaurant door.

"I agree, so unless he wants to sort his shit out, move on."

Our shoes click the same tune along the concrete as we approach the door. The air stills as I ponder her words. Move on? Do I want to? No, but I will have to eventually. This was his choice. We arrive at the restaurant, but I pull on her arm to halt us, pausing to the side for a moment to talk. She spins and faces me, her green eyes staring at me with disbelief.

"I think you're right, and Wednesday he came over for dinner and met my family. My dad lost it. Did not approve at all. We argued in front of Tom’s girls. Dad is the one who mentioned how young I was, sparking Tom’s decision; I’m sure of it.”

She covers her mouth with her hand before touching her forehead. “I’m shocked. Your dad lost it? Like I get it, but to lose it. I can’t imagine.”

“Yeah, Dad completely disapproves and doesn't even care about my feelings. I know he is just worried, but I wish he would have sucked it up at dinner and talked to me later about it when Tom and the girls weren’t there,” I huff.

“It’s freezing out here; let’s go inside and talk more over alcohol. This discussion needs it.” I nod and watch as she steps forward, pulling the door and holding it wide open. Stepping through, we pause, waiting to be seated.

A moment later, a waitress sporting a blond ponytail with a large toothy smile on her face, wearing a white shirt and black dress pants, pauses in front of her desk. "Good evening. Can I help you?"

"I booked for three under Jennifer," I say.

She skims the book searching for my name until she finds it. "Yes, follow me this way, please."

We nod and trail behind her.

She stands in front of an empty table, gesturing toward it. We take our seats opposite each other, and the waitress asks, "Could I start you off with some drinks?"

“Yes, please, a Moscato." I need alcohol after the week I've had. "And also just to let you know, the third person cannot make it. Sorry," I say.

"Make it a bottle of Moscato," Olivia cuts in.

"That's okay. I'll be right back with the bottle." The waitress takes the spare cutlery and glass from the table, giving us more room, then proceeds to walk off.

"I'm driving, so I can't drink too much," I say.

"It's a Friday night. We are eating, and the bottle only has a few glasses. It's fine." She waves it off.

I shake my head, answering, "I'll have two and that's all."

Opening the menu and scanning, I read gnocchi and decide on that, so I close the menu again and put it down on the table and sit back.

Olivia peers up from the menu, closing it and stacking it on top of mine before settling back into her chair.

"What did you decide on?" I ask.

"Fettucini carbonara, you?"

"Bolognese gnocchi," I reply.

The waitress arrives with our bottle, pouring us each a glass of wine, then takes our food order before stepping away again.

"Back to what you said about your dad. Parents are annoying. Hence why I moved out. I like the freedom of my life. I know people think renting is a waste of money, but it’s not. You grow and learn; the freedom is priceless."

Sipping my wine, I mull over those words. What would it be like to live out of my parents’ home? I haven’t thought about my living arrangements. I had been solely focused on my career, and getting the higher position took over everything. And with Thomas next door, I wouldn’t have moved because of convenience. But now that I think about what I want, living out of home is something I want to try.

"I hadn’t thought about moving out, but now with the promotion, I can afford it and I need my own space."

Just as I finish, Olivia blurts, “Move in with me; I have a spare room.”

"Olivia, it's filled with your closet and makeup stuff." I laugh back at her offer, envisioning the cluttered spare room.

"I'll get rid of it. I hate renting on my own. Pleaseee." She bounces and claps loudly.

"Shhh, no promises. Let me think about it. I want to do a budget. And I'll need to tell my parents."

"I'll start organizing the room so you can move in." Her face flushes pink and her mouth opens into the biggest grin.

My mouth drops open. Am I ready to move so soon? Away from Thomas? If it was up to Olivia, I would start moving tomorrow. I need a pause button on my life.

"Just let me think about it. I have a lot on my mind right now, so just give me time."

"Okay. I know. Sorry. You know me, I get excited. But just so you know, you won't regret it." Leaning her elbows on the table, her head is propped into her hands.

I tilt my chin. "I know it will be fun but a lot to think about; just give me a little time."

Our dinner arrives, ending the conversation which I gratefully accept.

Taking the opportunity to change the topic, I say, "And how's guys in your life, especially the one you went on the date with?" I stab the gnocchi with my fork and put a piece into my mouth. I chew as she talks.

She shrugs. "No one serious. I don't want to be tied down. I like being single. He is nice but I have only seen him once."

“Look what happens when you try to settle down. Maybe it’s best to be free and not tied down, to save the heartache.” I stab another piece and chew.

Olivia picks up her wine and takes a sip. “We could totally fix that by heading out on a night out. Didn’t Thomas say that?” She has a cheeky smirk on her lips, clearly mocking me.

“I only go out for events; you know that. That’s why I was shocked by Tom’s words. He assumed I’m like everyone else my age.” I peer down at my pasta, my appetite disappearing. No longer hungry, I put down my fork, pick up my drink, and take a sip of the sweet fruity wine. I think about Thomas and what he would be doing right now. I wonder if he is missing me. I miss him; having a heart sucks.

“You know I’m playing with you,” she teases.

Flicking my gaze back to hers, I lower my glass. “Yes, I know.”

We finished our bottle of wine, which Olivia had more of than me. I didn’t want to continue drinking if I wasn’t eating anymore.

When we leave the restaurant, she links her arm through mine, and we walk like that back to the car. The warmth from her is welcomed. She offers the comfort and safety I long for right now.

On the drive home Olivia scrolls her socials and discusses her findings. I’m hardly listening but when I do, I’m enjoying it. It’s helping pass the time and take my mind off Thomas.

I park in front of her house. “Thanks for listening to me tonight. I will let you know about moving in.” Leaning forward, she unbuckles herself to meet me in a hug. Rubbing her back, I say, “Thank you for tonight. I needed it.”

“Of course, I got you. Anytime you need me, call.” She smiles.

“Okay,” I mutter back. Leaning my face into the seat's headrest, I watch her push open the door, climb out of my car, shut the door, and take the path back to the front door and into her house.

I scan her house more thoroughly. Could I live here too? It is pretty, a modern small brick home with a flowery garden. It’s not far from my parents, and Olivia has decorated it already so I would only need bedroom furniture and accessories. It’s a big decision, which I don’t want to rush making. I will sleep on it and talk to my parents.

Once she is safely inside, I head home. I keep throwing the idea of moving out around in my mind. But when I pass Thomas’s house, the tightening pain in my chest returns. Pulling up outside my house, I park and take a few breaths before gripping the door handle and stalking the path. Pushing the key in and unlocking the door, I enter. I see the light from the television is on. Crap. Someone is awake.

I step inside and close the door. I quietly walk inside the house and head straight for my dad; I can tell it’s him because he sits in the same spot on the couch. Mom has her own armchair. Walking to the living room, I whisper, “Hi, Dad.”

He peers over the couch at me. “Jennifer, where have you been?”

I can see curiosity etched on his face. He wants to ask about Thomas and if I was out with him because I haven’t said many words to him or Mom since the disastrous dinner. “I went out with Olivia for dinner.”

He shifts his weight on the couch, moving forward, his eyes staring at me. A flash of something I don’t recognize enters his eyes, but it's late and I don’t want to have a discussion this late and with so much on my mind. I want to have a serious talk about moving out when it’s a more suitable time.

“Did you have a nice time?”

“Yeah, but I’m tired now, so I’m off to bed. I will talk to you tomorrow.”

“Okay, darling. Good night.”