Mom smiles, kneeling down on the worn carpet with Clementine and Benjamin. “How are my two favorite people doing today?”
Tiny smiles up at her. “Papa comes home tonight.”
Mom looks over her shoulder at me, her lips frosted in CoverGirl pink, and she gives me the smile I’ve seen every single day of my life. Ledger is gone all the time as a long-haul truck driver, but Mom? She’s my constant.
“Whatcha hanging around for, Penny?” she asks, shooing me off. “Don’t you have work?”
I laugh. “Okay, fine, I’ll go. Thanks again.”
“Love you, Mama!” the kids say as I lean down to kiss their cheeks.
“Love you more,” I say, pulling open the front door. I walk away, hearing their shouts as I go. Impossible, they holler, thinking they love me most. But they don’t. They couldn’t.
Ledger, my twins, and my mom are my whole wide world, and I pray to God nothing ever changes that.
Chapter Two
Over Easy has an afternoon lull and I’m taking advantage of it in the mid-day sunshine. I’m sitting on the back steps with a Diet Coke, my notebook in my lap. I’m writing a list of short story ideas. The last four I submitted to magazines were rejected. And that means every story I’ve ever written has been rejected.
I’m starting to realize I don’t know what I’m doing. The rejections from the editors tell me to look for a stronger hook, to find my authentic voice, to dig deeper and discover my true story. I read each rejection, blinking back tears, wanting validation that this effort is worth it somehow. Wanting someone to tell me that pursuing my champagne dreams on a beer budget isn’t a waste.
Cheryl, my long-time manager, joins me outside, carrying a paper-lined basket of chicken strips and fries. I close my notebook and set down my pen, reaching for a fry.
“When does Ledger get back?” she asks, plucking a piece of chicken and dipping it in ketchup. Her shoulder-length hair is frizzy from bleach and her eyes are rimmed in thick black liner. Her smile, though, is completely natural.
“I texted him a few minutes ago, asking when he’ll be home. He hasn’t replied.” I groan, retying my unruly black hair into a bun on the top of my head. “I’m so ready to see him. It’s been a long two weeks. Summer is stretching out forever.” I look up to the blue sky, the sun hanging high. It’s nearing ninety today and I wish I could strip out of my dress. This red and white polyester uniform is an inferno. When I get off work, maybe I’ll put on a swimsuit and jump in the pool at Mom’s. The twins would love that.
“I don’t know how you do it, girl.” Cheryl’s twice my age. She gave me my one and only waitressing job when I was fifteen. Ten years later, I’m still her go-to girl. I don’t think that’s the story the editors of these literary magazines want.
I break a fry in half. “It’s not so bad. I mean, it could be worse.”
Cheryl clucks her tongue. “True. You and Ledger both got work, adorable kids, a marriage that makes every girl in town jealous.”
“Shut up,” I laugh, cocking my eyebrow at her. “I’m not sure anyone gives me a second look.”
Cheryl stands, her face softening as she looks down at me. “Well, I see you, Penny. And I know you pretty well. Enough to know Ledger is lucky to have you, keeping that family of yours together while he’s gone.”
“Thanks,” I say, brushing off her comment with a sheepish smile. After she goes back to the kitchen of the diner, I reread my story ideas as I finish my food. Adding a new one to my list: What it’s like to be married to a long-haul trucker.
That might appeal to someone?
Twenty minutes later, after I’ve scrolled through Facebook and Instagram, called Mom to check in with her, there’s still no reply from my husband.
When the phone finally buzzes, I answer without looking to see who it is. I haven’t talked to Ledger since last night when he was going to bed. Allergies had been irritating him as he drove through eastern Washington — there’s so much pollen in the air — and he’d grabbed Benadryl at a gas station before settling in to sleep in his cab at a truck stop.
“Are the twins in bed?” he’d asked, lying on his mattress as we FaceTimed. Pictures that Tiny and Benny colored for him in magic marker on white printer paper were taped to the wall, his head propped on the pillow I bought him for Christmas. It’s printed with the words I like your beard. I sleep with one that says I like your butt.
“Yeah, for an hour.” I walked around the kitchen, phone screen facing me as I finished tidying up the house for the day.
“What are you doing now?” he’d asked.
“I’m going to try and read a book I checked out at the library today. Short Story Writing For Dummies.”
“Stop, Pen. Don’t say that.”
“Why?” I blew air out of my cheeks, frustrated. “I don’t know what I’m doing, Ledger. I’m making it all up as I go.”
“Maybe when the twins start school next year, you can start community college?”
“Maybe,” I said. “But Bethany is taking classes right now and she’s in over her head. Always stressed.”
“Yeah, but she has a six-month-old and a toddler. You’ll have all day.”
I rolled my eyes, walking to our bedroom. “You mean when I’ll be working at the diner?”
“I might have another raise by then, babe. You can cut your hours back.”
I smiled tightly, pulling back the comforter on the bed. Biting my tongue. Not wanting to hurt him. But what I was thinking was that if I cut my hours, we’d always be paycheck to paycheck. Was it wrong to want more?
“I met someone at a diner this morning,” he says.
I swallow. Remembering the night I met him at a diner. “Yeah? Was she wearing a polyester uniform?”
He chuckled. “No, it was a college kid, just came back to the States after traveling abroad for a year. Called it a gap year. You ever heard that term?”
I’d looked away, not wanting him to see my eyes. The regret in them. Not for our marriage, our children… but for what wasn’t. What could never be. I made a choice that changed my life. I fell in love with a man before I ever spread my wings.
Now, on nights like this, it feels like my wings were clipped. And the thing that’s hard to accept is that I was the one who did the clipping. I had a savings account, a map, a plan. And instead of traveling Europe, I bought two cribs, a double stroller, and a nursing bra.
It’s not regret, it’s just… a loss of what could have been.
We ended the call, Ledger and I, both of us saying I love you. And we do. We may not be loaded, but we have one another. It’s not a gap year, it’s a lifetime.
Now, on the steps outside the diner, I take the call from the unknown number, knowing I really ought to get back to work.
“Is this Penelope Stone?” a man I don’t recognize asks, his tone causing me to sit up straighter. I set down my half-empty can of soda.
“Uh, yes, this is she.”
“This is State Trooper Jordan Parrish, calling about an accident—”
I cut him off, panic setting in. “Accident?” The hot summer air is thick. It’s hard to breathe as I absorb his words. “What kind of an accident?”