Total pages in book: 77
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
Estimated words: 73425 (not accurate)
Estimated Reading Time in minutes: 367(@200wpm)___ 294(@250wpm)___ 245(@300wpm)
My aunt chortles, her cheeks pink.
“Yes, teddy bear, yes,” Angie chuckles. “Let’s go to the kitchen and see what we have.”
My aunt waves as my bus pulls away. I spent a week with her before hopping back on the Greyhound to make my way back to New York City. At first, I was dead set on going back as soon as possible, but then I realized it was a bad idea. I was too tired, hungry, and worn out for the long ride back, much less as a expectant mother.
But in the meantime, I left a voicemail for my husbands letting them know that everything was fine. I was just visiting relatives for a while in Kentucky, and I’d be back in NYC soon enough. Of course, I got some panicked texts from Jordan and Jason, but I wrote back immediately, assuaging their fears and letting them know that I was safe.
Then over the next week, I reflected on what’s happened to me. It helped that our Kentucky town is a small village, far from prying eyes and nosey gossips because I was able to establish a modicum of mental tranquility. I’d come so close to ruining the best thing to ever happen to me, and it was only with the intervention of Aunt Angie that I pulled back from the brink in time. Thank god. She’s always been there to support me and this instance was just another example of her giving ways.
Now, we’re pulling into the bus depot at Port Authority and my heart’s in my throat. What am I going to say to Jordan and Jason? I’ve missed them desperately, but there are loads to discuss; so much in fact that I’m afraid I’ll be buried beneath the weight.
But this is my last and best opportunity and seeing how much I love them still, I can’t afford to make a mistake. I won’t. Jordan and Jason are my everything, and I will climb the tallest mountains and walk through the most dangerous valleys before I give up on our shared love.
20
Jordan
It’s been so long since Mira left. We tried calling, but her cell kept going to voicemail. We texted, and at least she responded to those, letting us know she was alright.
But still. Jason and I were worried out of our minds. Mira means the world to us, and to discover that our precious jewel was gone drove us to insanity. We were ready to call 9-1-1, the Secret Service, and the FBI just to get her back.
But what could we do? She left us the most heartbreaking note, taking all the blame for the destruction of the Village Church. Hardly. Jason and I were very much a part of that, and to be honest, it’s not that big of a deal anymore. Sure, it was shocking when we lost most of our congregation, but we’ll recover. Some hard work and elbow grease are all it takes. Besides, congregations are living entities. Maybe our flock had reached its expiration date, and it was time to build anew.
But why would Mira beat herself up like this? Why would she assume the blame for something like the dissolution of our church? Were Jason and I too overbearing? Did we ask for too much, too quickly? Maybe the marriage wasn’t a good idea. Our relationship moved so fast, and she’s so young that perhaps we scared her off.
Regardless, Jason and I have been pretty much been seeped in depression ever since Mira left. The days are dark, and the nights darker. We don’t get out of bed some mornings, and we hardly ever leave the apartment anymore. It’s piled high with random food wrappers, garbage, and the general detritus of our misery.
Today is the same as usual. We’re wearing dirty sweats and sitting on the couch, staring at a silent TV. We could be watching Beverly Hills 90210 or Jerry Springer, and it wouldn’t matter. Behind us, the door opens, but I don’t really care. Maybe it’s the super, here to complain about the godawful smell. Whoever it is, they’re more than free to walk in and do whatever it is they want.
“Jason? Jordan?” comes a melodic voice. I slightly tilt my head, but don’t turn to the sound. Is this a dream? My head feels fuzzy and my sight is dim. I could be imagining things.
“Jason, Jordan!” This time the voice is more insistent, and Mira comes to stand right in front of us. In fact, the curvy girl kneels before the couch, looking up at Jason and me with worry on her face. “Are you guys alright?”
We stare dumbly as Mira looks around the room, aghast. None of the lights are on, and our entire apartment is shrouded in darkness save for the flickering light of the TV on our faces. Again, there’s garbage everywhere, and junk piled high like we’re a pair of mentally ill hoarders.