Friday morning, Alexa drove me to the train station. We hugged for a long time before I left.
“Are you gonna be okay?” Alexa squinted at me against the early morning sun. “I know you haven’t been doing so well lately.”
I sighed. “I don’t know,” I said. “I just have to go be there for Mom.” And I have to manage not to break down at the sight of Jackson, I added silently in my head.
As much as I wanted to tell Alexa all about how nervous I was at the thought of seeing Jackson, I knew I couldn’t let her in on my little secret. After all, I didn’t think she’d exactly understand. Alexa could have men eating out of the palm of her hand in a matter of minutes. I knew that she wouldn’t believe me when I told her what a jackass he really was…she’d probably lie, and say something like “Oh, I’m sure you just haven’t gotten to know him yet.”
“Okay, well, I’ve got to run,” I said, smiling tightly. “I’ll see you next week.”
Alexa nodded. “I’ll miss you, bestie,” she said. She air-kissed my cheeks and then I climbed out of her car into the blistering cold.
Alfred, New York was beautiful in the summer months but the winters were cold, snowy, and dreadful. I hated the cold. In another life, I was probably a beach bum – tan and bronzed and worshipping the sun all day long. But in this life, I’m a pale little mouse, I thought as I glanced down at my phone to check the time. And that’s not going to change any time soon.
The train from Alfred to New York City took almost three hours. I couldn’t relax the whole time – I kept thinking about Mom, and how much she must be hurting. I wished that I’d stayed with her the whole time, that I hadn’t let her leave. She must be so alone, and so sad, I thought nervously as I rubbed my hands together for warmth. I need to work hard on being a better daughter to her.
When I got into Grand Central Terminal, I grabbed my bags and walked quickly towards the entrance. Mom had said she’d be waiting for me, but after a few minutes went by and I didn’t see her, I pulled out my phone.
Mom didn’t answer until the fourth ring.
“Hello?”
“Mom, it’s me,” I said. “Um, I just got into the city. Are you here? Are you coming to pick me up?”
“Oh, Belle, it’s so good to hear your voice,” Mom said. She sniffled. “I sent a car, well, actually, Jackson heard you were coming and sent a car for you. I told him that was okay – are you going to be meeting up with us at the church?”
I frowned. I hadn’t spoken to Jackson in years – why the hell was he reaching out now?
“Are you sure?” I wrinkled my nose. “That doesn’t sound like something Jackson would do, Mom.”
“Belle, be easy on him,” Mom warned. “He’s just lost his father. Don’t you remember what that feels like?”
A weird mix of guilt and embarrassment seeped into my chest. She was right – I should understand exactly how Jackson was feeling. My own dad had died when I was a little kid, but I didn’t really remember him. Mostly what I remembered before Mom married Mitchell was how it felt for the two of us to be out there on our own. I remembered the little nights in our cramped kitchen, the way Mom would make macaroni and cheese for dinner. We’d spent the whole evening camped out in front of the television, watching all of our old favorites.
“I know,” I said. I sighed. “I’m sorry. It’s just kind of a surprise, that’s all.”
Mom made a funny little noise with her mouth. “Well, maybe now the two of you will finally be close,” she said after a pause. “You’re both older now. Maybe that’s finally going to happen.”
Fat chance, I thought, thinking of Jackson’s sneer after he’d tricked me into embarrassing myself at Mitchell’s party, years before. But to Mom, I said: “I’m sure. Okay, Mom. See you soon.”
After we hung up, I dragged my suitcase out of the terminal and onto the street. It was bitterly cold. I hadn’t expected much of a change from Alfred, but this was astonishingly brutal. Wind whipped across my face, stinging my eyes and making them tear up. My lips were so chapped they ached, and my fingers gripped numbly at the handles of my suitcase.
When I looked up, I saw a black Town Car parked right in front of me. There was a man standing in front, holding a sign that read: “Belle Harrington.”
I rolled my eyes. Of course, Jackson would do something like this – it was ostentatious, loud, and completely unnecessary…. just like him.
“Miss Harrington?” The driver stepped forward when he saw me glance over the car. “Is that you?”
I nodded. As he tried to grab my suitcase from my hands, I held tightly onto it.
“Miss, let me take your bag,” the man said. “Please.”
I glared at him. “I can manage on my own,” I sniffed. “I didn’t hire you, after all.”
The man’s expression soured, then darkened. “I see,” he said stiffly. “Very well.”
As I dragged my suitcase towards the backseat of the car, I felt a hot anger wash over me. I hated Jackson, for making a scene like this! It was like he’d known everything about his plan was going to make me supremely uncomfortable…and yet, he’d done it anyway.
Climbing into the back of the warm car was a relief. My boots were caked with snow and ice and my toes were still numb, but at least the exposed parts of me were beginning to warm up. The heat was blasting full-force from hidden vents all around the back of the car, and I shivered inside of my down jacket.