JEANIE

Dear Travis,

I'm glad you were always there for me.

Jeanie

I kiss him for much longer than I should have.

The tears have already dried on my face, and the hiccups are gone. I am still out of breath, but this time it isn't from yelling.

I have to turn my head to stop. To pace myself. I couldn't get lost in him. Not when I have to keep my head.

"I shouldn't have done that," he whispers against my hair. I feel his breath on my neck.

I laugh a little. "Well I'm glad you did," I say.

It is quiet now. I look around and feel Travis' grip on my waist tighten.

When I see the living room in front of me, it feels weird to be in his house. Just his.

No longer mine.

"Jeanie?"

"Hmm?"

"Why were you crying?"

I swallow. I move my whole body to face him, his face so close to mine. I look down when I speak.

"I got into an argument with my Mother and John."

"Look at me," he demands.

I do. I gaze into his eyes and see the frown on his face. The concern written on his face like a blackboard.

I smile. No, I grin.

"What?"

"You know that the argument is about?"

He shakes his head.

"How much John didn't want me. How he didn't care for me since the moment I met him. I told him I knew."

Travis just listens.

"I cried because when I left he called me ungrateful."

His eyes are soft. And smiling.

"So why are you smiling?"

"Because every time I got into a tough situation at home, you were there. Every time I cried, you held me. And now, after an argument of how worthless I am to him, you're still here. I'm smiling because you care," I say, feeling a tear run down my cheek, "and I'm just glad someone does."

He kisses me again. And this time I don't try to stop it.

"Oh Jeanie, your mom cares," He says in between kisses. "Fran cares, Jared cares. More people care about you than just me."

He kisses me for a long time, hands on my face, and I have to take a breath. I take one, and he chuckles.

"What started the argument?" He asks.

"Mother tried to match me up with her young male friend, Nathaniel Wilson, a rich kid down the street. She invited him over," I say, playing with the collar of his shirt.

"Uh oh."

I smirk. "Yep. I ended up telling him a story that made him leave."

Travis asks about the story, and I relay the whole thing to him. He laughs at the end.

"What is your mother like?"

"Mad. I argued with her first, actually. I told her about how I isn't ready to move on."

Travis sucks in a breath.

I look at him, sitting up, putting space between us.

"She didn't take it too well, then I left the room, and ran into John. He is pretty upset you were back in town."

"I bet," Travis says, ducking his head, and I know he feels terrible.

Then I realize something. "Why were you at the house, Travis? Did mom invite you?" I ask, then realize that's a stupid question. She didn't even know he was in town.

"No. I don't really know why I came. I thought to maybe talk to your mom, explaining everything, but then decided against it. So I started to leave, but then you came out. Crying, and I couldn't leave."

"I'm glad you did."

"Me too," he agrees.

I am now out of his lap and sitting a few inches away from him on the couch.

And the feeling is gone. The moment of us is gone. Our life is gone again, just in that one second. The second of reality.

I glance at Travis. And smile.

"I should go," I say, standing, and he doesn't try to stop me. He knows the risk it is in me being here.

So I put him out of his misery.

And get out of his house. His life.

Closing the door behind me.

TRAVIS

I get home, tired and soaked in sweat. I close the door behind me, walking into the kitchen.

After Jeanie left, I left the house, no longer feeling comfortable in my own home. I hit the gym, staying there for six hours.

I just got home. At one in the morning.

I quickly take a shower, ishing, then lay on my couch, staring at the walls.

There is no way I can sleep. Not after what happened today.

I can only just stare at my suitcases which I had started to pack yesterday. The ones that I would end up taking far away from here.

I feel for my back pocket. I feel the letter there that I keep. To remind myself that if anything were to happen to Jeanie, I couldn't live with myself.

I can't live without her.

With all my stuff being packed up, I end up finding a bunch of pictures of us. Of the wedding.

Of her.

I also keep a picture of her in my pocket with the letter. To keep her with me.

I stare at my left hand. I focus on the line on my skin. The white line that held my wedding band for seven months.

Which makes me feel even worse. Because even though I had divorced her, I also lost the ring. I have a hunch Lucy had something to do with it, but I don't feel like asking her.

Too many problems with her anyway. Don't want to start another one.

I don't even know where she is anyway.

I get ready for bed. I knew it is better to try to sleep than to not to.

So I lay in bed. With the light off, the fan on, the door closed. I don't bother getting under the covers.

How many times after the day I remembered Jeanie I would stare at her side of the bed. Hating myself. Hating what I put her through.

And I don't even remember living without her. Up until a few days ago.

She went through so much more than me.

And it broke me. When I saw her crying coming out of her house, Even though I am supposed to be protecting myself from her, I couldn't just let her cry.

And then let her come inside my house, holding her, kissing her, is also a bad idea.

Because it reminded me of the could haves, and the wants that flooded through my mind at that moment.

The moment when I realized I couldn't have her.

Even though I wanted to.

I sometimes think of how much she went through when I left. But, even though it's selfish of me to think, I went through so much more.

I had to deal with the fact that I was going to break her heart. And I did. And it broke me.

It still does when I think about it.

When I think about her.

I am still surprised she even let me be around her after the first time I saw her again. When I finally realized who I am.

Who I became for one year with Lucy.

I had started to pack up my stuff but got tired of doing it pretty quickly, so instead of doing it by organizing it, I just decided to toss things in boxes and hope they don't break.

If Jeanie were here she might have murdered me. She's all for that organizing stuff. If one thing is out of place, she's annoyed.

And me, who cares nothing about that, would be happy to live in way less than perfect conditions.

Jeanie told me all the time how much I helped her. How much she needed me. She even just told me this morning.

When the truth is, I need her. So much.

She keeps me sane. Which is why I've been hitting the gym every day for more than four hours.

Which is way more than I ever have in my whole life.

I just about roll over to try to fall asleep, when I hear a knock at my door. I frown, and stand, walking towards the front door.

Opening it, I expect to see someone waiting for me, but there is no one.

I sigh, then start to shut the door when it doesn't close. I look to see what is blocking it.

A rock. With a paper that has my name on it.

With writing I recognize.

I go to pick it up, unwrapping it from the rock, tossing that into the yard. I shut the door, walking back to my bed.

I sit on it, legs hanging over the side.

My fingers shake as I open it, wanting to shield my eyes from the words, but that would just be ignorant.

I read it slowly. Carefully.

I close my eyes. The threat is there. Again.

It is a good thing I had already been planning on leaving.

But now I just have to go sooner.