Best Laid Plans

Chapter 8: May, 1990

~Jake's POV~

When I started the work week, things were quiet. In all honesty, things had been quiet for weeks. But it was a good quiet. Jeanette and I had been dating for just over a month. She was kind. I enjoyed her gentle company. We were not exclusive, but at the same time, it wasn't like a huge single's scene, so... But it was good. We had spent a whole Sunday together, getting lost in window shopping in Flint and getting tangled up in my bed that left both of us satisfied.

That Monday morning, I felt like my lungs were punctured when I brought Mandy coffee for our morning catch up. She brushed it off when I asked if something was wrong. She blamed it on catching some bug and being sick the day before. But I knew. I could feel it in the darkest parts of me that she was deeply hurt. Her eyes were void of light and it felt like I was being flayed when I could not bring her back with a smile.

I decided that she needed time. She would come around eventually. I continued bringing coffee and conversation. I would stop in before the end of her day with some excuse to see her. I tried to be patient, but after a week, I could bear it no more. Sunday morning, I appeared on her doorstep, a daisy in one hand and a grocery bag in the other. I made her pancakes while she sat watching me, her flower between us. I found a Van Morrison LP to put on and we ate together, with me doing most of the talking. She looked exhausted and there was nothing I could do. It was like she was refusing to come out of her shell.

"Mandy," I started as I was cleaning up the dishes. "I don't know what is going on. I just know that this is not being sick. This is not working a lot of hours, either."

I watched as she crumpled against herself. Her skin was so gray and small. The first tear edged through her lashes unchecked. The second tear was wiped as she tried to turn away. I moved around the table, kneeling down in front of her, my hands on hers trying to get her to look at me.

"You're scaring me," I whispered, tucking her hair behind her ears. "Amanda. I can't stand to see this pain in you. Please. Please. Just trust me."

The sob that ripped through her was harder to hold than anything. It was the same sound that emptied from me with the loss of my son. I knew that kind of pain too well. I eased her to the floor with me so I could hold onto her. I still did not know the root of her pain, but at least she was sharing it with me. Her fingers dug into my t-shirt as I wrapped myself around her like armor.

The first of her words were whispered, embarrassed. She told me about the phone call. She told me about the woman saying there was a baby. She faltered across the word as her face broke and I pressed her against me once more as she hissed into a torrent of anger that threatened to incinerate us both. She launched to her feet, her hands balled into fists.

"How the fuck can he do this?" she shouted, her anger flushed across her face. "After what he did to me, he does this?"

She rambled as I gained my feet. Amanda's fury was unleashed but my brain had latched onto one thing - what had done to her? Was it physical? Was it mental? Had he harmed her beyond whatever else was going on? My selfishness stepped in with the idea that things were not going well. And if things were not going well, perhaps... I'm such a bastard.

Just as soon as her storm started, she stopped. It was like all the fight that I had once loved - all her strength and fortitude - was gone. Evaporated.

"Fuck. I did this to me," she whispered, melting into the couch. "I did this. I made these choices. I was so tired working at Franklin. I wanted to be here. I wanted Sparrow. I just wanted to be fucking home. I wanted him to be here with me. I wanted him to love it here like I do but he doesn't. He never has. But I thought if I made this home, he would follow."