Deeply Personal

Chapter 5

“Hearts and diamonds are nice. But be forewarned about clubs and spades.” —Patty Preston, YouTube Influencer, The Allegiance, 4.6 million views

Jessica

December came, marking the calendar year’s final trot to the finish line. No, it actually felt more like a race—as fast as Abibu Nwranga, the Nigerian contestant who’d won the Turkey Trot in record time.

A gorgeous blue sky heralded the day. Jessica ate breakfast at her glass-top kitchen table, ensconced in a white oak high-back chair. She’d just redone her kitchen a month ago and adored her new amber-toned stained cabinets and the hardwood flooring she had installed. White oak, wide plank, 1360 on the Janka scale. It was the most durable hardwood flooring available.

She lived on a shady street in a cozy bungalow built in the fifties. Red brick exterior, three bedrooms, two baths, two floors, two-car garage. She’d overhauled and updated practically everything, including tearing down an adjoining wall between the kitchen and the living room, giving everything more flow and a much more modern look.

Jessica grabbed her phone and entered “best diets for women in their early thirties” into Google. The cardiologist who she’d seen after the Trot, Dr. Gladstone, had prescribed a medication for her heart rhythm, and he also said she needed to eat right and exercise.

“And please, no alcohol, at least for a few months, okay?” he’d said.

“Of course,” she had dutifully replied.

Her test revealed high cholesterol, and she had elevated blood pressure as well. Wonderful, right? Late-night margaritas and early-morning frappés would now have to be things of the past.

“And make sure you exercise too,” he’d said. “At least two to three times a week.”

Everybody on the planet seemed to be doing something—cardio, weightlifting, barre, Pilates. Yoga. Whatever. Maybe she should jump on the bandwagon as well. After all, she did not want another episode. No way.

Unfortunately, knowing she needed to exercise and actually doing said exercise were two different things.

“I’ll need to see you back in two weeks,” Dr. Gladstone had said as he wrote his notes on an iPad.

Now Patty’s voice echoed around her as she ate her breakfast: steel-cut oatmeal, and she could barely get it down.

Jessica sighed as she searched online for the right diet. There were so many choices, which left her wide-eyed and confused. She needed a healthy diet, not something that only focused on weight loss. She found all kinds—keto, vegan, and even the caveman diet.

Strange. She’d thought about trying the caveman diet after watching a TikTok about it. But to her, eating frozen bison delivered to your door by an overworked deliveryman didn’t seem caveman-like at all. More couch-potato-man-like. Besides, cavemen—and cavewomen too—were usually dead by thirty, most likely torn to bits by the jaws of prehistoric predators, creatures who were on their own caveman diet.

Too bad Jessica had gone on the jilted lover’s diet—the “anti-diet,” as she called it. Stuffing herself and binging when her emotions had boiled over after losing Adam.

Forget Adam.

Patty’s voice cut into her: “Forget the person you were and the person you were with. Find the new you.”

The new me? Right. And that person is . . . where, again?

But now, things had only gotten worse. She was not only facing life without Adam and all the joy he’d brought her, but also the wondrous nature of steel-cut oatmeal. Wow. Weren’t oats for horses?

Funny how collapsing at a Turkey Trot could change your entire—

Her phone rang, and when she saw who it was, she answered right away. “Hey, Dad,” she said, trying to sound happy and bright. “How’s it going?”

“Jessica,” her father said. “Are you all right? I’m just calling to check on you. What did the doctor say?”

She’d finally told Lenny the truth at Thanksgiving dinner, just as she was taking a bite of sweet potato casserole. No, it wasn’t her ankle, she’d admitted, and just as expected, Lenny got all up in her face about diet and exercise, going on for at least ten minutes.

Then they’d talked with their father on the phone, and Lenny had filled him in about her collapse while Jessica sat there, listening, studying her nails, and feeling sheepish for not being honest with her brother in the first place.

“No need to worry, Dad. I’m good.” She hadn’t seen her father in months, and she missed him. His worried, paternal voice sent warm waves of emotion rushing through her. He was her safe place—a harbor for her heart. It had always been like that. “Just had a little issue, that’s all.” She cleared her throat. “I’m fine now. Not a single problem since.”

His tone was grave. “Heart issues? At your age? I don’t like that at all.”

“Like I said when we talked at Thanksgiving, Dad, I was just dehydrated, really. No biggie. So . . .” Redirect. She stared at the oatmeal as if it were an alien species that had suddenly manifested in front of her. “Lenny said you’re in Barcelona? How long are you staying?”

Her father traveled all over the world as a bridge designer and civil engineer. “I’m designing a water overflow system for the city there. Then it’s back to London for another job.”

“Don’t you need to slow down just a bit, Dad?” she asked.

“Who, me? No way. The staff’s treating me like a king and the paella is amazing. I’ll only be here a few more days, though.”

“I’d love to go to Barcelona someday,” Jessica said. “Did you know they have the most extensive collection of Romanesque art in the world?”

“Hmm. Interesting. I did not know that, Miss Art-History-Minor.” He laughed that same big, gregarious laugh that she so often heard from Lenny as well. “By the way, I found time to go to the Picasso Museum,” her father went on. “Picasso’s pencil drawings he did as a child? Man oh man. Simply out of this world.”

“Really? I’ll have to check that out.”

“They’re amazing.”

Her dad sounded happy and excited, and that pleased her. He’d come a long way. He was totally different from how he’d seemed when Mom had taken off fourteen—no, fifteen—years ago now, basically destroying their family.

She swallowed more oatmeal down. “Here’s something you should know,” she said. “Instead of skipping breakfast, which I sometimes do, or eating a donut as I also usually do, I’m as of this moment in time devouring steel-cut oatmeal mixed with flaxseeds. Aren’t you proud of me?”

“Yuk. Sounds awful,” her father replied. “Sorry about that.”

“I’m sorry too. But I am determined to revel in the awfulness, Dad. I am determined to find it wondrously awful. So, anyway. Have you gotten your ticket to come home for Christmas yet?” Jessica couldn’t wait. She, Dad, Lenny, Haley, and the boys, all of them together for Christmas. It meant so much to her. It was their tradition. “We can’t wait to see you.”

“Well, that’s the thing. See . . .” He paused. “Something’s come up.”

“What?” She shifted in her seat and pressed the phone closer to her ear. “What’s going on?”

“There are, uh, certain, uh . . . things I need to take care of this year. And so I won’t be coming.”

“What things ?” she asked, incredulous.

He coughed, sounding nervous. “It’s just that I need to be in London for Christmas this year. I’m sorry. You’ll be okay, won’t you?”

Sure, she’d be okay, but that didn’t mean she wasn’t hurting at the thought of his absence. She’d already bought a Christmas present for him: a model replica of the Brooklyn Bridge. Her father worshiped its builder, John A. Roebling. He’d actually met his grandson.

“Well, of course I’m okay. But I’m still disappointed.”

“Look. I have a job coming up in February to help engineer the Wasena Bridge in Roanoke. That’s not far from you. I’ll take a whole week off and see you and Lenny and his family then. I promise.”

“Sure. I understand, Dad,” she said, trying to force down the disappointment in her voice.

“I’ll be there sooner than you think.”

Jessica sighed. “Well, if you must. Just take care of yourself, Dad. Don’t drink too much. And stay away from those cigars. If I have to be healthy, then so do you.”

“Will do, honey.”

“Bye, Dad.”

“Bye, darling,” he said. “And please, please take care, okay? I don’t want to hear about any more episodes.”

“I know. You won’t. I promise.”

“Love you.”

“Love you, Dad.”

After ending the call, Jessica sat there, blinking, feeling sadness soaking into her. What was up with him?

She called Lenny. “He’s not coming for Christmas,” she said when her brother picked up. “And he won’t tell me why.”

In the background, Lenny’s two boys were wailing about watching a video. Haley’s voice came through. “There won’t be any Peppa Pig if you two don’t settle down right this minute.”

“Really?” Lenny said. “Oh, well. I mean, he’s got his life to—”

“But don’t you think we should at least know why he’s not coming?”

“What’d he say when you asked him?”

Jessica relayed her father’s words.

“Hm, that’s odd. Maybe he’s found someone new,” Lenny said breezily.

She laughed. She hadn’t thought about that possibility. “Dad? Really?”

He’d had zero relationships since her mom, and Jessica had worried about that. But she hadn’t encouraged him to meet someone either. She just didn’t think it was her business.

“Sure. Why not? It’s been a long time. I’m sure he’s lonely,” Lenny said.

She pushed her oatmeal away. It had turned into a glob. Awful. Then she pictured her father out there, making moves in bars. The thought of it made her cringe.

“Listen. Let Dad do his thing,” Lenny continued. “If he wants to stay in London this year, so be it. It’s a long way for him to travel. No biggie, right?”

She ended the call and felt one of those strange heartbeats again, the stop and the start, like a two-second delay. Then one more time before returning to a steady rhythm. Her nerves twitched. Sudden fear made sweat line her palms, and she accidentally spilled her coffee. She was shaky as she poured herself a glass of water and took one of her pills.

Damn. When would this get better?

***

Jessica threw on a gray sweatshirt, jeans, and Nike trainers, then stomped outside into her fenced-in backyard. She would get dressed for work later. Now, she needed air, a reboot.

It was still early enough that she could take some time to ponder why and how her life had turned out this way. Adam-less. Lonely. Still nursing her wounds. Despite what Patty said, Jessica had learned that leaning into solitude only went so far.

With no mother around, a father who was always gone, and Lenny, who was busy raising his own kids, she felt, in a way, abandoned. She had her colleagues, of course—but she was the boss so they could never be close friends. She had her best friend Kristin to hang with. But still. She couldn’t help feeling the way she did.

Was she on the verge of losing her father now? Was his failure to return home for Christmas the prelude to some kind of further disassociation? She trembled at the thought, and for a moment, she could hardly breathe.

Jessica and Lenny had been sixteen when their mother left the family. A functional alcoholic who’d loved horses all her life, she had run off with a wealthy, blue-eyed equestrian named Philip J. Westerman III, one fine spring morning. They’d driven away in a white Land Rover with a horse trailer in tow. It had destroyed their father.

The sky overhead was a cerulean-blue ceiling. Jessica stared up into it as she mulled over what her father had said. She didn’t like the undertone at all. It sounded like Dad was being overly happy too. Faking it.

Maybe it was some sort of health problem. Heart issues? Cancer? God forbid. No, it couldn’t be that, could it? Her throat clamped shut at the thought.

A flock of birds crossed her vision, heading south. Wind chimes sounded behind her, bell-like tintinnabulations, tinkling and clanging. She gazed around her backyard. The magnolia tree, the azalea bushes, and the two large pines in the back against the split rail fence were all thriving.

A cardinal landed on her bird feeder. It was a brilliant red with a red beak and a black face. Male or female? She didn’t know. The bird twitched, then was gone, unable to stay in one place for long. Weren’t birds lucky? When things got tough, they simply up and flew away. When things got tough for humans, however, choices were a lot more complicated. And yet, hadn’t her mother flown away from the family nest?

Maybe humans are nothing but birdlike creatures after all. Jessica stared into that umbrella of a sky again. When things get tough, people simply fly away from their problems. The cost of an airplane ticket isn’t that much. Why not?

“I need to spread my wings.” That’s what Adam had said.

When the going gets tough, the tough get going. Right?

Wrong. Not when it came to holding a family together.

Jessica continued to stare into the vast and infinite blue. The real tough people didn’t go anywhere when things got tough. They stayed put and faced the hard road that stretched before them, took the punches, faced reality without flying off. Maybe they were more like, well, like a different kind of bird altogether. Like penguins, for example. The most loyal birds on the planet.

As far as Jessica knew, male penguins returned season after season to mate with the same female again and again for the rest of their lives. How romantic was that? In fact, Jessica had read that the male penguin actually dropped a pebble at his selected mate’s feet as a way of pledging his fidelity and attachment. Talk about dedication of the heart. How sweet was that? Yes. Penguins.

They all looked the same too. Maybe that was why monogamy was built into their nature. Why have random sex with Susie Penguin when Rachel Penguin, your original mate, looked just like her? And like Kelsey and Marissa and Sara Mae and everyone else.

Jessica knew that if she was ever going to find a man one day—the right man—she needed that man to be a penguin. That was what her heart demanded. No more, no less. After all, she could only be a Patty Preston follower for so long, and sooner or later, she’d have to open her heart once again. But this time, she’d have to find someone who wouldn’t leave when things got tough. She wanted a man who stayed put and stuck around, someone who gave her his full attention without wanting to spread his wings. A commitment-phobe was not what she was interested in at all.

Were penguins that hard to find?

Probably . . . definitely.

She went back inside and thought about packing her lunch—a salad with garbanzo beans. Healthy. Not very appetizing, but healthy. She looked out her kitchen window and spotted that finicky cardinal again, fluttering around, twitching, jumping, hopping. It was as if it couldn’t make up its mind what to do, which way to go. Totally confused. Three or four seconds later, it was gone, spreading its wings for a better place to land once again. And another one after that. On and on and on.

***

On her way to work, Jessica stopped at a Starbucks.

She wanted to try something.

She listened to a Patty Preston YouTube video as she waited in the drive-thru: “I pledge allegiance to the flag of the state of singlehood, and to the republic of freedom from the sway of men and justice for all single women, so help me, Jose Cuervo.”

“I’ll have a, uh, tall—” Mocha with whip? Not on your life!—“ medium roast, black, please,” Jessica pronounced the order with steely willpower. The steeliest. Her usual venti frappuccino was something like several thousand calories per serving. She thought about spilling her frappé on Paul. If she’d known she would be cutting them out of her diet, she might have licked the liquid right off his face so she wouldn’t have wasted a droplet.

The barista handed her the drink. Black as mud. No sugar. No fattening cream. Under five itsy-bitsy calories. This would be a majorly life-changing experience. A revolution for the lifestyle of one Jessica Chandler.

She took a whiff. Not bad. Another whiff. Smelled okay. Okay, then.

Here’s to new beginnings. Cheers . She clinked the cup against her steering wheel, then tasted it. What the…? She spat it out. It tasted like shit.