Crystal Lies - Melody Carlson [29]
I swallowed hard. “A big part of me is already dead, Sarah.” She didn’t say anything.
“I’m sorry, honey,” I continued. “I know this is hard for you to hear. But like I told your dad, I just needed a break, a chance to regain myself and to think about everything that’s going on right now. It’s not as if I’m looking for a divorce. I’m certainly not. I just needed to catch my breath. Can you understand that?”
“Not really.” She paused. “Oh, I think Leslie’s here, and we were going to look at apartments this afternoon.”
“Right.”
“Think about what I said, Mom,” she told me.
“Yes, of course I will.”
“Good.”
“I love you, honey.”
“Love you too, Mom.”
And that was it. I shook my head and looked around the interior of the Range Rover, trying to remember where I was and where I’d been going. Then, spying the short grocery list by my purse, I remembered. Oh yes, Jacob was coming home.
I headed the Range Rover back to More-4-Less, not even sure why I was going there again, except that it was in the neighborhood, and perhaps I wanted to prove something to myself. I tried to push Sarah’s words and accusations away from me as I walked across the blacktop parking lot. After all, my opinionated daughter was only twenty-one and still had a lot to learn about life and relationships. And, although I hated feeling like I was hurting her, I knew it was best for her to hear the truth, at least from me. Still, it seemed there was far too much hurt going around these days, and I wished there was some other way…something I could do to stop all the pain.
As I searched for a grocery cart without wobbly wheels or too much sticky grime, I wondered if Sylvia would be there at this time of day. For some reason, I wanted to see that woman again. I wanted to assure her I was doing much better now. Okay, perhaps “much better” was a huge overstatement, especially after that conversation with Sarah. But I was alive and moving—even if it was only two steps forward before I took one and a half back. At least those half steps were something.
Thinking of Jacob, I got a gallon of milk, some “no pulp” orange juice, a large carton of eggs, two loaves of bread (one white, one whole wheat), some sliced roast beef and smoked turkey, some leaf lettuce and tomatoes, a nice selection of fresh fruit. I even picked up some of the junk foods—cheese curls and powdered-sugar doughnuts—that I normally avoided but knew my son liked. Then, feeling like the prodigals mother who was ready to slaughter the fatted calf, I even got a case of Dr Pepper, my son’s beverage of choice. Well, at least in childhood. Who knows what he imbibes now? I also picked up a box of maple bars (another Jacob favorite) and a package of chocolate chips in case we felt like making cookies. Who knew? Then, feeling even more celebratory at my son’s homecoming, I picked out one of those bunches of prearranged flowers, mostly carnations and chrysanthemums and only $5.99, before I headed to the checkout.
To my pleased surprise, Sylvia was there, and even though her line was slightly longer than the other two, I decided to get in it anyway. I absently flipped through a Good Housekeeping magazine as I waited my turn. After shopping at the discount furniture warehouses, I couldn’t bear to look at magazines like House Beautiful or Architectural Digest, my usual preferences. I kept telling myself it was best not to look back. Just move forward.
When Sylvia began ringing up my purchases, I was ready for her. I expertly snapped open the brown paper bags and loaded my groceries almost as quickly as the moving belt funneled them at me. Sylvia didn’t really look up at me until she announced the total, but I noticed a faint glimmer of recognition in her eyes.
“So you got it all figured out this time,” she said as I handed her my debit card.
I nodded. “I’m figuring out a lot of things.”
She nodded as she ran my card through the scanner on her register, but after a moment she frowned.