Chapter 25 - Temporary Exile

Jennifer barely slept.

Every time she closed her eyes she saw Ethan standing in the kitchen.

Every time she drifted off she heard the front door closing.

Sometime around four in the morning exhaustion finally won.

By seven she was awake again.

Alone.

The house felt different.

Quieter.

Hollow.

The pink satin nightgown felt twisted around her legs as she sat up in bed.

For several seconds she simply stared at the wall.

Trying to remember whether the last twelve hours had actually happened.

Unfortunately they had.

A soft knock sounded.

Michelle opened the door.

Neither woman spoke immediately.

Michelle looked exhausted.

Her eyes were swollen.

Jennifer suspected hers looked even worse.

“Did you sleep?” Michelle asked.

Jennifer gave a small laugh.

“No.”

“Me neither.”

Silence.

Michelle sat beside her on the bed.

For a moment neither knew what to say.

Finally Jennifer asked the question.

“Did Ethan text?”

Michelle nodded.

Jennifer’s stomach tightened.

“And?”

“He’s okay.”

Relief flooded through her.

Followed immediately by sadness.

“Is he coming home?”

Michelle hesitated.

That answer was enough.

“No.”

“Not yet.”

The room fell silent again.

Finally Michelle spoke.

“I think he needs space.”

Jennifer nodded immediately.

Because she already knew.

“He does.”

“I hate saying that.”

“I know.”

Michelle looked at her.

Really looked at her.

The blonde hair.

The tear-swollen eyes.

The nightgown.

The woman who had somehow become part of their lives.

And the husband she still loved hidden somewhere beneath it all.

“We don’t know how long.”

Jennifer nodded.

“I know.”

Michelle swallowed.

Then quietly added:

“I was thinking maybe you should stay with Mom for a little while.”

The words hurt.

Even though Jennifer had already expected them.

Even though they made sense.

Even though Jennifer would have suggested the same thing.

She nodded.

“Okay.”

Michelle reached for her hand.

“I’m sorry.”

Jennifer squeezed it.

“It’s probably the right thing.”

Neither of them wanted it to be.

⸻

Packing started an hour later.

At first Jennifer thought it would be easy.

Then she opened the closet.

And realized how much Jennifer Russo owned.

Dresses.

Sweaters.

Blouses.

Skirts.

Cardigans.

Shoes.

Far too many shoes.

Jennifer sat on the edge of the bed holding a pair of gray suede boots.

The same boots she’d worn on Thanksgiving.

The same boots she’d been wearing when Ethan found her.

She quietly set them in a suitcase.

Michelle appeared in the doorway.

“Take enough for a couple weeks.”

Jennifer nodded.

But neither of them missed the uncertainty in the sentence.

A couple weeks.

Maybe.

Maybe not.

Nobody knew.

Jennifer continued packing.

One suitcase became two.

Then a large duffel bag.

Then a tote full of cosmetics, hair products, and work supplies.

Finally a garment bag holding several dresses.

Michelle stared.

Jennifer stared.

Five bags.

Five.

Jennifer looked at them.

Every single one had been purchased as Jennifer Russo.

Michael hadn’t packed a single suitcase.

Jennifer laughed weakly.

“How did this happen?”

Michelle smiled sadly.

“You went shopping.”

“A lot.”

“A lot.”

For a brief moment both women laughed.

The sound felt strange.

Almost guilty.

Then the laughter disappeared.

Because sitting in front of them wasn’t Michael’s wardrobe.

It was Jennifer’s.

⸻

By late morning the bags were lined up near the front door.

Jennifer stood in the foyer looking at them.

Five bags.

Enough luggage for a vacation.

Enough luggage for a move.

The distinction suddenly felt unclear.

Before leaving, she wandered through the house.

Not intentionally.

Just slowly.

As if trying to remember it.

The kitchen.

The family room.

The staircase.

The little things.

Her coffee mug beside the machine.

The throw blanket she always used while watching television.

The basket near the door where she kicked off her shoes after work.

The charger next to her usual spot on the couch.

Tiny pieces of a life.

Jennifer hadn’t noticed when they’d become hers.

Now she noticed every single one.

And it hurt.

⸻

Sophie found her standing in the family room.

“Mom said you’re leaving.”

“Just for a little while.”

Sophie immediately started crying.

Jennifer opened her arms.

Sophie practically threw herself into them.

The hug lasted a long time.

Longer than either expected.

Longer than either wanted to let go.

Finally Sophie pulled back.

Her eyes moved toward the bags by the door.

“For someone who wasn’t supposed to be Jennifer forever…”

Jennifer looked at her.

Sophie managed a tiny smile.

“…you sure have a lot of Jennifer stuff.”

The joke landed.

Then immediately didn’t.

Because everyone knew it was true.

Jennifer looked toward the luggage.

Then quietly said:

“Yeah.”

Neither had anything else to add.

⸻

The drive to Kathy’s house felt much shorter than usual.

Maybe because neither talked much.

Michelle kept both hands on the wheel.

Jennifer stared out the window.

Neither wanted to discuss Ethan.

Neither wanted to discuss the future.

The silence felt safer.

When they finally pulled into the driveway, Michelle turned off the car.

Neither moved.

Neither seemed eager to end the moment.

Finally Michelle reached over and squeezed Jennifer’s hand.

“We’ll figure it out.”

Jennifer nodded.

“I know.”

It wasn’t confidence.

It was hope.

And hope was all either of them had left.

⸻

Kathy opened the door before they reached it.

One look at Jennifer’s face.

One look at the luggage.

And she understood everything.

“Oh sweetheart.”

Jennifer found herself being pulled into a hug.

A long one.

The kind mothers gave when there was nothing useful left to say.

⸻

An hour later Jennifer stood inside Michelle’s old bedroom.

And stared.

Pink walls.

Floral comforter.

White furniture.

Lace curtains.

A stuffed bear sitting on a shelf.

And posters.

So many posters.

Jennifer covered her face.

“Oh no.”

Kathy laughed.

“Oh yes.”

“This was definitely Michelle’s room.”

Kathy smiled.

“It always will be.”

Jennifer laughed softly.

Kathy stepped beside her.

Jennifer looked over.

Kathy smiled warmly.

“And now I think it’s the perfect room for my favorite niece.”

Jennifer blinked.

“Niece?”

Kathy shrugged.

“Well…”

Kathy smiled.

“It’s a little hard to keep calling you my son-in-law.”

Jennifer couldn’t help laughing.

Kathy reached over and squeezed her hand.

“You’re family.”

For the first time all day Jennifer found herself smiling.

A real smile.

Small.

But real.

⸻

Later, after Kathy went downstairs, Jennifer changed into her favorite pink velour sweatsuit.

Jennifer noticed the closet door was already open.

Most of it was empty.

Except for a handful of garment bags pushed all the way to one side.

Curious, she unzipped the first one.

A navy-and-white plaid Catholic school uniforms.

Pleated skirt.

Blue blazer.

White blouse.

Jennifer smiled.

“So this is what you looked like.”

The next bag held a pale blue prom dress.

The satin had yellowed slightly with age, but it was still beautiful.

A third held another formal dress.

Jennifer carefully lifted the first one from its hanger.

Without thinking, she held it against herself.

She turned toward the full-length mirror.

The skirt stopped just above her knees.

The bodice looked surprisingly close to the right size.

She couldn’t help smiling.

“You had good taste.”

Then the smile faded.

She lowered the dress.

What on earth was she doing?

She quickly hung it back up.

Closed the garment bag.

And shut the closet door.

As though someone had caught her.

She sat cross-legged on the floral comforter.

Around her were five unpacked bags.

The room was quiet.

Afternoon sunlight streamed through the lace curtains, casting warm stripes across the pink walls.

Luke Perry.

Jason Priestley.

Leonardo DiCaprio.

Three teenage crushes stared down at her from oversized posters that had somehow survived three decades.

Jennifer couldn’t help but laugh.

A soft, exhausted laugh.

“I’m fifty-two years old,” she muttered to herself.

“I’m living in my mother-in-law’s house.”

She looked around the room.

“I’m sleeping in my wife’s teenage bedroom.”

Her eyes drifted to the posters again.

“And apparently I still have excellent taste.”

She shook her head, smiling despite herself.

The smile faded almost as quickly as it had appeared.

The room should have felt humiliating.

It should have felt absurd.

Instead…

It felt strangely safe.

Safe from questions.

Safe from conflict.

Safe from Ethan’s pain.

And that realization bothered her.

Because she wasn’t just relieved to escape the confrontation.

She was relieved to be here.

Jennifer looked down at her deep red fingernails resting against the floral comforter.

The image should have felt ridiculous.

Instead it felt oddly normal.

And that frightened her almost as much as Ethan’s reaction.

Because for the first time she found herself wondering something she had spent months avoiding.

When all of this was over…

Would she still know how to be Michael?

Or had Jennifer Russo become something more than a disguise?

The question lingered long after the room fell silent.

And for the first time…

Jennifer wasn’t sure she wanted the answer.

Jennifer sat quietly on the floral comforter.

The room had finally grown still.

The last suitcase was unpacked.

Downstairs Kathy called,

“Dinner’s ready!”

Jennifer stood.

She looked around the room one last time.

The pink walls.

Luke Perry.

Jason Priestley.

Leonardo DiCaprio.

The floral bedding.

She smiled.

“Thanks…”

She hesitated.

“…Aunt Kathy.”

Jennifer froze.

She hadn’t meant to say it.

It had simply come out.

She switched off the bedroom light.

Closed the door.

And followed the voice downstairs.