Her Melting Point

A Past Master

In the evening, her phone rang, and Jackie groaned. There could be only four or five people who'd call her at this time of night. Neither of them was a particularly enjoyable telephone company.

She put her book aside, and her hand hovered over her mobile on the bedside table.

She considered pretending to miss the call, but that little icon that popped up on your screen when you'd get a voicemail made her even more uncomfortable. If it were her family, she'd rather just hear them out in one swift excruciating move, as opposed to having one of their usual bollocking messages sitting in her inbox.

If it was Gabriel, someone could be dead. He wouldn't bother with her for anything less.

"Hiya, Jackie," Gabe greeted her.

She habitually rubbed her palm against the scar on her side.

"Hi." Her voice was scratchy. "What's wrong?"

"Why would anything be wrong?" he answered with a laugh. "Can't a guy check on his ex-wife?"

"No, no, of course," she muttered. "I just– You just rarely do, so I got worried."

"Well, you ain't completely off the mark," he said with another warm chuckle. "I've got a question for you - but I did want to see how you're doing as well."

Jackie realised that she'd gotten up without noticing.

"I'm OK," she answered stiffly. "What's the question?"

"You don't sound OK." His tone softened. "Is everything alright at work? Are your young'uns giving you trouble?"

Of course he'd assume it was about work. There was bugger-all else happening in her life - had been for years.

"How have you been?" she evaded clumsily.

"I'm all tuckered out from the move, of course, but I'm managing," he said lightly. "Don't make a fuss on my account. What I'm calling you for–"

He paused, and she knew he was doing his usual thing; but she still took the bait.

"Yes?"

"I feel darn bad asking, Jacki-doo, but I'm fittin' to sell the house, and–"

When he was emotional, his native drawl was more noticeable. She sucked a breath in, but for some reason her oesophagus felt blocked.

"So, I reckon, you'd need to take your Mimi's furniture," he said.

"You're selling our house," Jackie repeated.

"Jacks..." he murmured with a gentle reproach in his voice.

He didn't continue, but he didn't have to. It hadn't been 'their' house for five years.

"Sorry, sorry, you're right! Sorry!" Jackie pressed her back to the wall, and then started slowly sliding down. "Of course, you can do whatever you want with it. It is yours. I just didn't expect–" She bit her tongue.

"Jacks," he drew out. "Remember? We decided that everything would stay where we'd had it, since you've been renting these piddlee'o flats." He sighed. "And if it were different, believe me, I'd love to continue to look after your folk's belongings. It's just not feasible anymore. Don't make me feel bad about it. You know how much I hate to inconvenience people."

"Yeah, yeah, of course!" she rushed. "Sorry, Gabe. Just let me gather my– my thoughts. I just can't suss out how to go about it."

"Well, that's what I'm here for, honeycake," he laughed - and then stopped abruptly. "Darn it, old habits." He cleared his throat in that charming shy way that used to make her ask herself exactly how she'd gotten a partner as ace as him. Until he wasn't her partner anymore. "Just give me your address, and I'll ship you the lot. I seem to have misplaced it. Are you still in the same school?"