Angel Smits - A Message for Julia

Memories and pain made her step a bit too hastily on the accelerator when the light changed. She refused to think about that anymore. It hurt too much.

She passed the grocery store and slowed. Parilton wasn’t big enough for more than one, and it didn’t even merit a national chain. But the local grocer carried nearly everything anybody needed. The bare cupboards of her newly rented apartment came too easily to mind.

The empty parking spot in front was like an invitation. She pulled into it and sat staring through the grimy windshield. She’d never felt so alone.

Minutes later, she was rushing through the aisles, filling the basket with all the staples to make meals for one and trying to outrun her thoughts. It wasn’t much, she realized as she looked at the pathetic pile of goods in the basket. Only one person stood in the checkout line. She could get out of here quickly.

The older woman checking groceries smiled at her. Rita Sinclair was Ryan’s mother.

Julia’s anger at Linc resurfaced. Why couldn’t his inspection report mention the number of kids like Ryan working the mine—kids who should be in school? Her anger was at the system, but he hadn’t helped at the meeting the other night. When had he lost faith in her?

“Hi, Julia.” Rita smiled as she ran the items across the beeping scanner.

“Hello, Rita. How’s everyone?”

“Fine.” Rita examined the contents of Julia’s basket, left eyebrow rising. “That’s everything?”

Julia still didn’t like the familiarity of small-town life. That’s why she often drove into Pittsburgh to do her shopping. “Yes,” she hedged and Rita didn’t make any more comments. “That’s $27.57.”

Julia handed over two twenties, and, as Rita counted out her change, she curled her fingers gently around Julia’s hand. Julia looked up and was surprised to see the sheen in Rita’s eyes.

“I want to thank you for all you did to try to get Ryan to stay in school.”

Julia stared at her in surprise. “I…I wasn’t sure if you agreed.”

“My husband didn’t. He thinks what was good enough for him is good enough for his boys. I’d like better for them.” Her voice broke on the last words.

“Me, too,” Julia whispered. “I haven’t given up.”

Their eyes met and for a long moment neither spoke. Someone moved into the line, and Julia didn’t bother looking to see who.

Rita transformed from a mom back into the efficient grocery clerk and handed Julia her receipt. “You have a nice day.”

“You, too.”

Rita’s words haunted her all the way to the car. That was what she’d tried to convey to Linc, though not very well. Why couldn’t he understand? Why couldn’t any of them understand? She quickly put the groceries in the car, avoiding the pain that went along with those thoughts.

She needed to move on, and today was the day for that to begin.

She drove too fast through town. She wanted this over and done with. Pulling into the drive, Julia sat there staring at the little house they’d bought within weeks of moving here.

She’d fallen in love with it the instant she’d seen it. She hated that Linc was the one still here, but she’d been the one to walk out. She’d left it and him behind.

The shades were all drawn, which grated on her nerves and gave the house a dejected look. She loved the shades open, loved watching the sunshine pour in on the old wood floors. She tore her gaze away and took in the entire place.

It looked sad and neglected. This was ridiculous. She’d only been gone six days.

She shoved the car door open and walked up to the porch. She hesitated when she pushed the key into the lock then mentally berated herself. This was still her house, damn it. She stepped inside and decided maybe it wasn’t.

The air was stale and warm. She longed to open the windows to let the rooms breathe, but she wasn’t planning to be here that long. She turned to finish her packing but stopped in the bedroom doorway.

Frowning, she stepped inside, over two pairs of Linc’s shoes. Her heart sank. She’d worked so hard to make this a room for relaxation, for privacy, for romance.

And now look at it.

“Linc, you idiot,” she whispered. “I can’t believe this.”

The bed wasn’t made, and as she sat down on the rumpled down comforter, she realized the same sheets were still on the bed as when she’d left. A pile of clothes grew in the corner by the rocker. Three beer bottles sat on the nightstand on his side of the bed.

What was wrong with him? He wasn’t the neatest person in the world, but he’d never been a slob.

And alcohol? He wasn’t one to drink…not in bed…not unless… Suddenly a memory of their honeymoon and a bottle of cheap champagne surfaced. No.

Julia shot to her feet. This was not her problem anymore. Determined to get this over and done with, she went to the closet and yanked out the first load of hangers. They grew heavy as she lugged them to the car. She’d piled several empty boxes in the back of the car, and she pulled them out to make room for the rest of her clothes.

She took the boxes to the bedroom and tossed her sweaters inside. She’d just opened her lingerie drawer, where a Pandora’s box of emotions waited for her, when she heard the distant ringing of the phone. She ignored it, staring at the full drawer. Each silky garment held a memory of at least one night…

She didn’t want to do this. It felt as though she was ripping her entire life to shreds with her bare hands. “Damn you, Linc.” She grabbed a handful of silk and threw it into the box. She didn’t care if the lingerie wrinkled. She’d never wear it again, but she wasn’t leaving it behind, either. “Damn you. Damn you. Damn you.” She crammed handfuls into the box in time with her words.

The phone started ringing again. Why wasn’t the answering machine picking up? She stood and stalked to the kitchen where the only phone hung on the wall.

After seeing the bedroom, she’d thought Linc would’ve trashed this room, as well. But he hadn’t. It was exactly as she’d left it.

Had he even come in here? Walking around the counter, she realized that, yes, he had been here. The trash can overflowed with takeout containers and paper plates. And the remnants of the answering machine that had been smashed to pieces.

Curious, she opened the pantry. The same three boxes of cereal she’d left sat there, untouched. How about the fridge? She hesitated to open it, knowing she’d left half a gallon of milk.

She breathed a sigh of relief. The milk was gone, but all that sat on the shelves was a six-pack of beer and a dozen sodas. She grabbed a cola, enjoying the feel of the cool metal against her hand.

“Serves him right if he starves to death,” she mumbled and closed the fridge. Linc was a grown man. She refused to worry about him—he certainly didn’t worry about her. The sound of the phone ringing yet again startled her, and she turned to glare at it. She didn’t live here anymore, so why should she answer?

What if it was Linc? He knew she was going to be here today. Didn’t she want to talk to him?

It kept ringing, loud in the quiet house. Might as well get this over with. “Hello,” she snapped.

“Mrs. Holmes?” A stranger’s deep voice came through the line.

Probably a salesman. How did they know to time this stuff? “Yes?” She sighed, not wanting to be rude, but not wanting to talk, either. Maybe she’d sign Linc up for whatever they were selling. Magazines? A burial plot? She knew she was being petty, but anger was easier to deal with than the hurt.

“This is David Hutchinson with the State Police. There’s been an accident at the Winding Trail Mine.” His voice was too distant, too rehearsed, as if he’d already said this a dozen times. “The family staging area is at the high-school gym.”