Four Good

Love always,

Jay

Big, fat tears are falling on the paper. I can barely read the last sentence because of them.

It’s a really beautiful note, but it hurts so much, because Jay and the Hayes men don’t know what they’d be getting into.

I let the tears flow for a couple of minutes, and then, after blowing my nose twice, I pick up my phone and call Jay without taking the time to second guess it.

He answers immediately. “Did you get the pictures?”

“Hi, Jay. I did. They’re really wonderful. Thank you.”

“And my note?” he asks.

“We need to talk.”

There’s silence on his end of the call. I’ve said the words no one ever likes to hear.

“Jay, the day after I came home, I got really sick. My lupus affected me in a way it never has before, and I could barely function.”

“Tina, why didn’t you call us?”

“My neighbor took care of me, so I was okay, but I was so exhausted I could barely move, and my body ached like it never has before.”

“How are you now?” he asks.

“I’m better. I’m essentially back to normal, and I’m on new meds.”

“You should have called, Tina. We could have extended our stay or come right back. We could have taken care of you.” He sounds anguished, and I feel bad for even telling him about it, but I’ve got to get through this.

“No, that’s not my point, Jay. My point is that you should stop sending me things, because I can’t be with you. In order to stay healthy, I need to live life at a completely different speed than you. If I try to keep up with you, I’d essentially be an invalid, and I don’t want that for you, or me, or any of us. I don’t want your sympathy and I don’t want you to feel like you have to take care of me.”

“It’s not about keeping up with us —”

“I don’t want to argue about it, Jay, and I don’t really want to talk about it anymore either. I just needed you to know everything that was going on, so you’ll know why I can’t be with you.” My voice breaks at the end, immediately followed by such a red-hot flare of anger at my lupus that my jaw hurts from clenching it.

He’s quiet for a long moment before finally saying, “Is it okay if I share this conversation with the others?”

“That’s fine.” I was actually hoping that he would, because I don’t want to have to talk about it again.

I feel hollowed out that night at work. Empty.

It’s impossible to believe that it was only two weeks ago that I first met the Hayes brothers. And a day and a half later that I was reunited with Jay.

In these past two weeks, I’ve experienced the highest highs and the lowest lows, and now I’m just … empty.

I thought I was happy enough before, but now it feels like there’s so much missing in my life.

All around me, customers are talking. Music is playing. Life is going on like usual, but it’s not the same. And it’s not enough.

The next day, no deliveries arrive.

And I should be glad, because that’s what I wanted.

There are no texts either. I thought the Hayes brothers might reach out after Jay talked to them, but maybe I should be grateful they haven’t. It would either lead to another difficult conversation, or I’d feel their pity through the phone.

I go through the motions of my day, eating, drinking, taking Roscoe for a walk — thankful that I have the energy to do these things, but not able to muster much more in the way of positive emotions.