Second Chance for Love

Second Chance for Love

Copyright 2013 Leona Jackson

Chapter 1: Jetta

I looked around my empty house one last time and knew my life was changing again. Two days ago was the last time I’d enjoyed the illusion of life being normal. In forty-eight hours, I’d packed up my life into the back of my car and given away what wouldn't fit.

None of it mattered to me; not what was in the car, or what had been given away. With the exception of my online clothing business, it didn't matter whether it was thrown to the curb or stuffed in a box. I’d felt that way for some time though I’d done a good job of lying to myself. Now, there was no longer a reason to pretend.

I sighed and forced myself to my feet. I had a three hour drive ahead of me and just wanted to get it over with. I walked out of the place that had been my home for the last six years, knowing I would miss my cozy apartment. After all, it was the place where I had adopted Bosco and found out who I really was; the place that had fostered and nurtured my independence.

Bosco was still running around the yard looking for his ball, not understanding the big changes underway. I retrieved it from the floorboard of my car, where I’d tossed it to make sure it wasn't forgotten and gave it a squeeze. The high-pitched squeak hurt my ears, but it got my Golden Retriever's attention. He looked at me and wagged his tail.

“Let's get on the road, Bosco. I want to get this over with.”

Bosco jumped in through the driver's door and settled down in what had become his seat whenever I could possibly take him with me. Even the few times I’d gone out with friends, Bosco had always ridden shotgun since the day I adopted him.

I pulled out of the driveway and didn't look back. If I had, I may not have left at all. It wasn’t a mansion, but it had been my sanctuary from the craziness of my family. Without it, I wasn't sure what I was going to do.

“I hope you dug up all your bones and packed them, boy, because we ain't coming back,” I told him.

Without looking at him, I could hear his tail wagging against the seat. A typical Golden Retriever, Bosco had always been a happy dog, and I’d never been more grateful for his steady presence in my life. His wagging tail reminded me that there were better days ahead. There had to be, because I’d taken all the pushing and shoving around I was going to stand for.

Two days ago, I received an unexpected call from my mother that I didn’t answer. My family hadn't been in contact with me for over three years and I didn't see the need to start talking to them again now. I was in the middle of getting a large order ready for shipping and didn't have the time to waste. She called four more times while I was working, and I knew something was wrong.

I took Bosco for his evening walk before I called her back. My life was peaceful and I wanted to hold onto that a little while longer before I let my family tear it apart again. When we arrived home, I immediately saw the blinking red light on the answering machine.

“Jetta.” My mother’s sobbing voice echoed around the room. “Your father died of a heart attack last night! I need you to call me! Please come home. We need you.”

I turned off the machine and unplugged the phone. Bosco followed me to my bed and jumped up beside me while I stared at the ceiling.

“Bosco, I don't like this,” I told him. “This is going to be bad for us, boy. I know it.”

I felt numb as I walked back downstairs and picked up my cellphone. Six years ago, I’d left home after a falling out with my father, and had only spoken to him twice since then. Now he was gone, and much as I hated to admit it, it hurt like hell.

My mother was probably never going to let me live down how I had “broken his heart” and as always my feelings on the matter wouldn't count. They never did.

When I called her back, she cried on the phone and begged me until I agreed to move back home. At least for a little while. For the life of me, I don't know why the hell I agreed, except for the fact my mother has never lived alone a day in her life. My sisters are all married and I knew they weren’t willing to give up time with their husbands and children to look after Mom. So it was up to me, the bad daughter, the one everyone always treated like shit to come home and take care of her.

How the hell did that make sense? It didn’t. Truth was, I felt I had no choice.

Chapter 2: Chase

I’d forgotten milk at the grocery store so I was forced to drink my coffee black. I think the bitter taste woke me up more than the coffee. The sun was barely up when I crawled into my truck. The diner wouldn't be open for another half an hour so I would have to wait outside.

Since my divorce, I’d found myself avoiding the house more and more. After four years, I’d fallen into a bad pattern of only being home long enough to sleep. The waitresses at the diner knew all my favorite dishes and placed my order before I even sat down.

Most mornings, the diner was full of lonely, old men trying to escape their wives. I didn’t mind them. Anything was better than being stuck at home listening to the silence that echoed around the empty rooms.

I almost kept driving when I saw my father's truck parked out front. Being a creature of habit, I decided to ignore him and have my breakfast anyway. A small group of men stood by the front door, leaning on their canes and talking with each other. One of the waitresses, Destiny, stood in the middle of the group. As I grew closer, I could tell she was crying. My heart skipped a beat and a lump formed in my throat.

Destiny looked too much like her sister, Jetta, and seeing her cry brought back memories that were best left in the past. I lit a cigarette and got out. Over the years, I’d remained friends with Destiny, the only one of Jetta's sisters that would still talk to me. She’d even helped me with my daughter, Abby, after Melissa first left.

Abby now spent most nights with my mother. She claimed the food was better there, and I had to admit she was right. I’d inherited my Dad's skill in the kitchen, which meant I knew just enough to burn water.

Destiny broke away from the group and ran towards me. “Daddy died last night!” she said, throwing her arms around me.

It was a blow to the gut. I couldn't say that I ever cared much for Musco, but I didn't like to hear about anyone dying. I hugged Destiny back and asked if there was anything I could do to help.

“No. Mama wouldn't want you around the house,” she told me. “Sherry's going to come and open for me. I’ve got to get over to Mama's and make sure she's okay.” She wiped away tears with the back of her hand. “She's trying to get Jetta to come back home.”

Hearing Jetta's name knocked the air from my lungs. I watched as Destiny ran to her car and pulled out. I could feel my father staring at me. The last thing I wanted was to talk to him or anyone else. I hopped into my truck and drove home since my appetite had completely disappeared.

I poured myself a cup of cold black coffee and turned on the television, more out of habit than anything else. Destiny's words still bounced around my head.

“She's trying to get Jetta to come home,” she’d said.

“Jetta,” I whispered to the empty house.

Jetta and I had fallen hard for one another in high school. We had our whole lives planned around one another. I’d even signed up for a fashion design class our senior year just to make sure we had all our classes together.

From day one, it had been a long, hard battle for us to be together. Mostly because of our families and the small town with backward ideas that we lived in. It wasn’t normal to see a black girl dating a white guy and the town people talked about us. Jetta even had to sneak out of her house to go on our first date. My father forbade me to see her, “that black girl”, but I didn't listen. I was determined to have the life I wanted and to give Jetta the world.

My father and I had never gotten along and that sealed the loathing between us for good. I was determined to be more than some redneck racist who spent his life being blind to anything good in the world. I wanted more and I was determined to have it.

I had more in common with Jetta than with anyone else I'd ever met, past or present. She was the woman I’d wanted to spend the rest of my life with. I hated to admit it, but it was my own fault that things didn't work out between us.

When I proposed to her my first year in college; my father threatened to cut me out of the family will. When that didn’t convince me, he threatened to stop helping me through college. Being so young at the time and faced with living in poverty, I felt I didn't have another choice.

I hated myself for being such a coward and for being too chicken and insecure to give up the plush comforts I’d grown up with. Sure, I could’ve earned them back eventually on my own. At the time though, the thought had seemed impossible.

The only good thing that had ever come out of my losing Jetta was my daughter, Abby, but even her life had been hell so far. My mother claimed she was a happy child, despite the fact she didn't even remember her mother. I didn’t agree.

Abby frequently withdrew into her own little world of make-believe. I didn’t think that was healthy for a child and it caused me to worry about her. Sometimes she reminded me too much of what I had begun to do. I lived in my own bubble and kept everyone else the hell out of it too.

Chapter 3: Jetta

The town had grown up more than I’d expected. New buildings had popped up, intermingling with the older ones. I drove past the diner and it looked the same as it always had. Then I saw an old truck that I thought I recognized. I bit my lip and pushed the gas pedal. I wasn't here for Chase and his cut-out bride. My sudden burst of speed nearly knocked Bosco from his seat.

I pulled into the park to calm down before heading home. Bosco needed to stretch his legs and I needed time to think. The park was filled with children and their parents. I watched a man pushing his daughter on the swings and a bolt of envy shot through my stomach. That was supposed to be my life.

“It's not your life,” I reminded myself. “It was just a pretty lie. Chase chose money and his daddy over you. Girl, you're over this. Been over it a long time. Just leave him to the fate he chose and try to get through your daddy's funeral. You're going to have enough issues without allowing Chase to become one of them.”

But was I really over it? Over him?

I've heard that time heals all wounds, but I don't believe it. The passage of time only puts a band-aid over the wound and allows it to scar over and life sure was ripping off the band-aid and cutting open the scar today.

I was already regretting coming back home. How long would I be able to avoid Chase and Melissa? I would come face to face with them sooner or later, and I didn't think I was ready for it. No, I knew I wasn't ready for it. I'd end up acting like some crazy ex-girlfriend, or even worse, a jaded bitch. I took a deep breath and decided I'd deal with it when I had to, not now.

Right now I had more important things to worry about. I had to get through this funeral, and then there would be shipments to catch up on. I wasn't about to lose the income I’d worked so hard for just because I was back in this snake pit of a town. I leaned down and hugged Bosco after a short game of Frisbee. I was feeling a little stronger, and knew I had to get to my mother's house. I could hear my cellphone ringing from the car.

“I'm coming, Mom.” I rolled my eyes and began walking back towards the car. This was going to be a damn nightmare.

The drive to my mother's house took less than five minutes. I didn't even have a chance to turn off the engine before my mother was trying to wrench open my locked car door. When I got out, she squeezed me so tightly that I thought I might choke.

“Oh baby! You’re finally home! Thank god my favorite baby girl is home! Oh how your Father would have wanted to see you too!” She alternated between sobbing on my shoulder and hugging me.

I let her ramble on. She was grieving, but I felt like she was trying to lash me with her tongue to relieve her own pain. When she finally pulled herself together, she suggested we go inside. I opened the car door and Bosco ran out wagging his tail.

“What the hell is that?” she asked, looking disgusted.

“Mom, meet your grandson.” I laughed at his big tongue hanging out. “His name is Bosco.”

“He's not coming inside my house, Jetta!” she snapped. “You know how much I hate dogs! Why the hell did you bring that mangy mutt home? You ought to be ashamed of yourself! Does he live inside your house?”

“Don't you go insulting Bosco!” I yelled, letting years of pent up anger cause me to lose my cool. “He's a better soul than you've ever been! He stays where I stay. I drove all the way here because you said you needed me! Bosco and I are a package deal. If he can't stay, then I won't be staying either!”

“Calm down, Jetta,” she warned. “It's just a damn dog! And wait a goddamn minute! Are you saying you'd choose a dog over your own family? Jetta, I raised you better than that! Your daddy and I sacrificed everything for you and your sisters! You have no reason to come home and have this pissy attitude of yours. This is still about that damn white boy, isn't it? You're still pining away because he chose someone else over you. Your Daddy warned you about that!”