A Better Next by Maren Cooper

Author:Maren Cooper
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: She Writes Press
Published: 2019-11-18T16:00:00+00:00

Chapter 26

Sideways rain and wind made the drive to the massage studio challenging: cars crawled along, and a traffic light was out at the busiest intersection on the route. But Jess, still feeling the rush from her meeting with Dick, arrived with a smile on her face.

The low light and soft music of the studio enveloped her. She hadn’t realized her body was tense until she was on the table and warm, oiled hands were working the knots out of her upper back.

Her mind drifted to Arthur. She conjured up an image of him reading her e-mail. He would be furious. It made her smile but then sad. Memories floated in: happy family moments at the lake; she and Arthur attending school activities as proud parents; teaching their kids to drive. Why couldn’t those good times have lasted?

Anyway, what does it matter now? she asked herself. There he is in Portland, with a whole new life. She remembered helping him set up his office in St. Louis, his favorite art on the walls, a piece of sculpture they had found on one of their escapades in Italy. Had he boxed all that up and put it in his new office?

What about family photos? She knew he had a favorite one of her and the kids: Tom still a toddler, Beth barely older, smothering their mother in their no-holds-barred embrace.

Maybe the new love had helped him set up. She felt her body tighten at the thought. The new love would mean different pictures on his desk, for sure. She forced herself to block any further thoughts of Rebecca.

The masseuse helped her flip over onto her back. Her leg muscles, tight from running, protested at the targeted touch, but she knew this pain was therapeutic. She stayed with the touch and forced her mind to go blank.

Jess was always a bit dazed after a massage. She dressed slowly and sipped the tea the masseuse had left for her. She turned her cell back on and noticed that she had received a response from Arthur: “Tickets for the kids to Portland for Thanksgiving. The rest of the miles are yours.”

She fell hard back into her chair, gut-punched, and dropped her teacup in the process. It broke, loudly, on the tile floor. Her teeth clenched as she squeezed her eyes tightly against oncoming tears.

Memories of Thanksgivings past floated into her consciousness, until she grabbed one: Beth and Tom proudly helping to decorate the table with their preschool construction-paper place cards; Arthur making his special stuffing.

A soft knock on the door pulled her out of her past. “Is everything OK in there?”

“Uh, yes, thanks. I just spilled my tea. Sorry. I’ll be out in a minute.”

But it took ten minutes to right herself and navigate out of the room, carrying teacup shards and apologies with her.

The rain was coming down in sheets outside, and the wind pulled her every which way as she made her way to her car.

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