Three Weeks

9

"FP?"

Alice tentatively calls out as she approaches the Andrews' Construction Office. She got Hal to watch Polly while she ran out to do some errands, though her real purpose was to track down Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr., who happened to be MIA as of late. 

She couldn't figure it out. He was stopping by her house nearly every day for weeks, and after he told her he loved her, he suddenly stopped. He wouldn't answer any of her calls and he was clearly avoiding her. 

"FP?" she tries again, pushing open the office door. He was sitting at the desk, scratching a pencil over what looked like blueprints, clearly deep in thought. 

He jumps when he sees her, taking off his glasses quickly, "Uh--Alice...hi," he stutters, putting the pencil down. 

"Hey, sorry, I didn't mean to scare you. I just...I haven't really heard from you since, well, you know..."

FP sighs, standing up slowly, "Oh, I know, I've--uh, I've just been...busy," he says unconvincingly. 

Alice nods, focusing on his shift in tone. Something was clearly going on that he wasn't telling her. 

"Well, I just wanted to check in with you...make sure you were still okay," she says, trying to get him to open up. 

He simply nods, shoving his hands in his pockets. "Gladys is pregnant, Alice."

The blonde woman stares at him in shock, her face falling slightly, "Oh--and it's...it's yours?"

"Yeah, it's mine."

The silence is deafening, both of them caught up in the other's emotion which was clearly conveyed across their faces. Alice couldn't help but feel betrayed. He said Gladys didn't mean anything to him. Though that was clearly not true.

"I guess I didn't realize you were still seeing her. I thought you said it was nothing," Alice says, unable to hide the sting in her tone. 

FP sighs deeply, his guilt beginning to bubble up. "Listen, Al--I swear, I had no idea. I haven't been with her since you and I started spending time together. She showed up at my trailer and sprung the news on me...I'm sorry."

"You're sorry as in, what? What do you mean by that?"

He bites the inside of his lip, staring at the floor, "I just think we should probably not see each other anymore."

Alice holds her elbow, running her hand up and down her arm, trying to find the words to say. Her stomach feels like it's twisting in knots, and her eyes begin to well up. 

It kills FP to do this to her, but he truly feels it's for the best. She's a married woman after all. He was going to be a father. It was never going to work. 

"Al, I'm sorry--it's over."

She feels the first hot tear roll down her cheek, not even bothering to wipe it away, "You--how could you...do you still love me FP?" she practically whispers, voice wavering. 

He holds back his own tears, trying to maintain a strong front, "It doesn't matter now..."

Alice nods, finally wiping her tears away. "I thought you changed. I really did. But you're the exact same jackass you were in high school, aren't you?"

She walks out the door without another word, not giving him a chance to explain or defend himself. She was absolutely heartbroken. A part of her knows he still loves her, and she knows that she'll always love him. But he said it best, "it doesn't matter now."

Alice gets in her green station wagon, forcefully closing the door. She breaks down as soon as she's sitting behind the wheel, gasping for air as her sobs grow louder. She never thought her heart could get broken worse than it did in high school, but she was wrong. Forsythe Pendleton Jones Jr. still had the ability to smash it into a million pieces.

* * * * * 

FP was leaning back in the office chair, hands over his face as he cried. He couldn't believe that he let her walk away again. Or, more accurately, pushed her away again. How could his life have taken this turn? He thought he was finally on a good path--trying to get sober, working a steady job, seeing Alice on a regular basis. But as soon as things start to look up for him, something has to come along and knock him on his ass.

He realizes he blames everything on his father. Every time something went wrong in his life he immediately reached to place the blame on Forsythe Senior, regardless if it had anything to do with him or not. Right there in the office of Andrews Construction, he was cursing out his father for ruining his life. 

FP sits up, his eyes stinging from crying and he leans over to the bottom drawer of the desk, pulling it open, a bottle of Smirnoff emerging. 

He rolls it over in his hands, the coolness of the liquid inside washing over his palm. It's stupid, but it's the only thing that is going to bring him any comfort right now. He pops off the cap taking a long pull at the bottle. The alcohol burns against his throat, the feeling oddly delightful. He takes another pull, and another, and yet another, everything beginning to buzz around him. FP stumbles back onto the couch, his alcohol-induced bliss taking control of him. 

He did it again.