Chapter 23 - THE BOX HELD MORE THAN MAIL.
Jessica brought the box herself.
She did not ask to come inside.
That mattered.
Joey opened the apartment door and found her standing in the hallway holding a cardboard storage box with both hands.
“No diamonds today?” Joey asked before she could stop herself.
Jessica looked down at her plain sweater.
“I’m trying casual.”
Joey almost smiled.
“Terrifying.”
Jessica actually laughed.
Small.
Then both remembered why she was there.
“The cards.”
Jessica held out the box.
Joey took it.
“Heavy.”
“There are other things.”
Joey looked at her.
“What things?”
“Open it.”
“Here?”
“If you want.”
Joey considered.
Then stepped aside.
“You can come in.”
Jessica froze.
“You’re sure?”
“Yes.”
For the first time, Jessica entered Joey’s home as a guest.
Joey noticed the symbolism immediately.
So did Jessica.
She stood near the door.
“Where should I sit?”
The question nearly broke Joey.
She pointed.
“Couch.”
Not the kitchen chair.
That was hers.
Jessica sat.
Joey opened the box.
Cards.
More than twenty.
Some from people Joey knew.
Some from names she barely recognized.
A knitted cap.
A grocery gift card.
Two pharmacy gift cards.
A handwritten offer from a church transportation volunteer.
Joey looked up.
“Why?”
Jessica’s eyes filled.
“I told myself you had enough.”
“You kept gift cards?”
“Yes.”
“Why?”
“I was going to give them to you later.”
“When?”
Jessica looked down.
“I don’t know.”
Joey picked up a grocery card.
“Did you use any?”
“No.”
“Did you check?”
Jessica stiffened.
“No.”
Joey inspected the packaging.
Still sealed.
Good.
Facts.
Not assumptions.
Another envelope contained cash.
Forty dollars.
Still inside.
Another.
Twenty-five.
Joey counted.
One hundred thirty-five dollars total.
Jessica said, “I didn’t take it.”
“I can see that.”
The box also held a scarf.
A puzzle book.
A handwritten recipe.
Then Joey found a notebook.
Not black.
Blue.
She froze.
Jessica immediately said, “That’s yours.”
Joey opened it.
Her handwriting.
She had forgotten it existed.
A treatment journal.
Dates.
Symptoms.
Medication reminders.
Small notes.
Alan called.
Bad nausea.
Couldn’t eat.
Jessica drove.
Better today.
Cried in shower.
Side door again.
Joey stopped.
Jessica saw.
“I never read it.”
Joey looked up.
“Why was it in your storage?”
“I found it in the laundry room after you left.”
“Why didn’t you send it with my documents?”
“I forgot.”
Joey believed that could be true.
The box was full of forgotten things.
Forgotten by Jessica.
Not by the person they belonged to.
Joey kept reading.
Several pages later:
J says I’m relying on people too much.
Then:
Need to do more myself.
Then:
Washed kitchen. Too tired.
Then:
Alan called. Told him I’m okay. Hate lying.
Jessica began crying.
Joey closed the notebook.
“I wrote this while I lived with you.”
“I know.”
“You didn’t read it?”
“No.”
Joey believed her.
Strangely, that hurt in a different way.
All the information had existed.
Joey had known something was wrong.
She had written it down.
Then minimized it.
Ignored herself.
Jessica whispered, “I wish I had read it.”
Joey looked at her.
“No.”
Jessica seemed surprised.
“No?”
“You didn’t have the right.”
Jessica nodded.
“That’s true.”
Joey returned to the box.
At the bottom lay one final object.
A plastic plate.
White.
Cheap.
Joey stopped breathing for a second.
Jessica’s face crumpled.
“I found it in the storage unit.”
“Why bring it?”
“I almost threw it away.”
Joey touched the edge.
“Why didn’t you?”
Jessica looked directly at her.
“Because I realized throwing it away would be another decision I made for you.”
Joey’s eyes filled.
That was new.
Not the plate.
The thought.
“What do you want me to do with it?” Jessica asked.
Joey stared.
Months ago Jessica had decided which plate Joey used.
Now she asked.
Joey held it for several seconds.
Then laughed.
“I don’t know.”
“That’s okay.”
Joey placed the plate on the kitchen counter.
Jessica looked around.
Her eyes landed on the chair.
“That’s new.”
“Yes.”
“It looks comfortable.”
“It is.”
Jessica swallowed.
“I’m sorry about the chair.”
Joey looked at her.
Not a vague apology.
Specific.
“For taking it?”
“Yes.”
“Why did you?”
Jessica took time before answering.
“I thought it made the kitchen look untidy.”
Joey waited.
“And?”
Jessica’s eyes filled.
“I cared more about what the room looked like than whether you could sit down.”
Joey felt something in her chest loosen.
Not forgiveness.
Recognition.
Jessica continued.
“I’m sorry about the side door.”
Joey said nothing.
“I told myself it was hygiene.”
“Was it?”
“Partly.”
Joey waited.
Jessica looked ashamed.
“And partly I didn’t want people seeing you come home looking sick.”
There.
Truth.
Not pretty.
Not excused.
Joey nodded.
“I’m sorry about the laundry room.”
Jessica’s voice shook.
“I thought I was making things easier.”
“At first you were.”
Jessica looked surprised.
“The first night helped me.”
That mattered too.
Joey continued.
“Then you decided because it helped once, it should become where I belonged.”
Jessica closed her eyes.
“Yes.”
“I’m sorry about the food.”
Jessica whispered.
“I didn’t think I was restricting it.”
“You made me feel watched.”
“I know now.”
“I’m sorry about the cards.”
Jessica cried harder.
“I liked being the person you needed.”
Joey looked at her.
“And I hated how much you needed me.”
The contradiction hung between them.
Jessica continued.
“I don’t know how both were true.”
Joey did.
“They can be.”
Jessica nodded.
“I’m sorry I told Alan you were fine when you weren’t.”
That apology changed the room.
Joey stared.
“Why did you?”
Jessica wiped her face.
“At first because you asked me not to worry him.”
“I asked you not to scare him.”
“Yes.”
“Not lie.”
“I know.”
Jessica continued.
“Later…”
She stopped.
“Later what?”
“I was afraid he would come home.”
Joey’s eyes narrowed.
“Because?”
“He would see I wasn’t handling it.”
There it was.
Not career protection.
Not only.
Pride.
Jessica wanted to remain the competent caregiver.
Alan’s return would reveal the gaps.
“So you kept him away.”
Jessica looked horrified.
“I didn’t think of it that way.”
“But you did.”
“Yes.”
Joey closed her eyes.
That was enough.
Jessica looked around the apartment again.
“I don’t expect you to forgive me.”
“Good.”
Jessica almost smiled.
Joey continued.
“I might someday.”
Jessica looked at her.
“Or I might not.”
“I understand.”
“And if I do, it won’t mean this was okay.”
“I know.”
The conversation lasted another hour.
No dramatic reconciliation.
No hug.
When Jessica stood to leave, she picked up her purse.
Then stopped beside the door.
“Can I ask you something?”
“Yes.”
“The check.”
Joey knew.
$2,846.71.
“I haven’t cashed it.”
“I know.”
“How?”
“My bank.”
Of course.
Jessica almost smiled.
“Keep it.”
Joey frowned.
“It doesn’t erase anything.”
“I know.”
“Then why?”
Jessica looked at the cards.
“Because for months I kept a number that made you feel indebted.”
She looked back.
“I want that number to cost me instead.”
Joey stared.
That was the first consequence Jessica had chosen without demanding something in return.
Joey did not promise to cash it.
Jessica opened the door.
Then turned.
“One more thing.”
Joey waited.
“I know who painted the garage.”
Her face changed.
“Who?”
Jessica looked ashamed.
“Mark’s brother.”
Joey frowned.
“Why?”
“He admitted it to Karen.”
“Because of me?”
“Because he heard what happened and got angry.”
Joey sighed.
“Idiot.”
“Yes.”
“What happens now?”
“He’s paying to repair it.”
“Police?”
“I told them.”
Good.
Concrete consequence.
Mystery closed.
Jessica stepped into the hallway.
Then she said, “There’s something I haven’t told Alan.”
Joey’s stomach tightened.
“What?”
Jessica hesitated.
“It isn’t another scandal.”
“Then what?”
“It’s about the day he came home.”
Joey stared.
May you like
Jessica’s eyes filled.
“I knew he was coming.”
