Another Hope For Morning

Ch. 8

          I stood facing Jordan for the first time since that morning. I was disgusted with shock. I couldn’t believe what I was hearing. Jordan was moving out, she followed me, and who the fuck was Sarah?

          “You followed me? Who the hell do you think you are?” I was yelling, the intensity of my anger growing with every breath I took. I couldn’t remember having been this mad in years.

          “You’re goddamn right I followed you, you arrogant bitch!” Jordan was red with anger. “To answer your second question, I thought I was your partner.” Jordan was shaking with rage, fighting back the tears she had every right to cry.

          “Who the hell is Sarah,” I demanded to know, trying to change the subject from me to Jordan.

          “Jesus, Sam, you really haven’t been paying any attention over the last few months. Sarah is the new executive director at work.”

          “Oh,” I exclaimed, in an almost ‘yeah, I knew that’ tone of voice.

          Jordan’s response was quick and sarcastic, “What, were you hoping that I, too, had been fucking around?”

          “No, that’s not what I meant at all. I just didn’t remember who she was.” Jordan went back into the bedroom and continued packing the boxes she had brought home. I followed her, stopping in the doorway of the bedroom “Jordan, stop, please? Stop packing your stuff,” I yelled. She ignored my pleas and continued about her business. I was at a complete loss. I walked over to her.

          “Don’t come near me you son of a bitch.” I tried to touch her hand but she pulled away from me quickly. Jordan picked up the box she had just finished packing and walked into the living room, placing it alongside the others. Following her into the living room like a confused puppy, I stood in the doorway, leaning on the frame. Jordan walked over to the end table that sat next to the couch and began picking up small knickknacks and putting them in a box that was sitting on the couch.

          “Jordan, please stop this. Can we just sit down and talk for a few minutes,” I pleaded with her. “The last thing I want is for you to move out. Please just talk with me.”

          “Talk with you! That’s what I’ve been trying to do for the last nine damn months. You haven’t wanted to talk, but now you want to fucking talk.” Jordan was yelling and still trembling. “I trusted you Sam, I stayed with you while you were screwing things up in college. I moved everywhere you did so that we could stay together. I put my life and career on hold so that we could be together, and this is the thanks I get. You sleep around with a woman, not a stranger, but a woman who broke your heart and left you for someone else. Have you forgotten all of this, or do you simply not care?” Jordan was holding a snow-globe in her right hand, shaking it at me as she spoke. “I wonder if you were fucking her when we went to London last summer? When you gave me this. When you told me that you would never do anything to hurt me.”

          “No!” I shook my head. It was a lie, I had been with Chris by then. “I love you Jordan. I’m sorry. God, I’m so sorry. Please, I’ll stop seeing her, I promise. We can make it work, please don’t do this.”

          “Don’t do this! Sam, you’ve already done it. We can’t make it work! You won’t leave her! You’ll keep fucking her! I’ll never be able to trust you again!” I started to take a step toward her. “Don’t, Sam! Don’t come near me.” Jordan was begging me to leave her alone, still holding the snow-globe in her hand.

          I took another step towards her, quickly ducking as she threw the snow-globe. It shattered against the wall right where my head had been. The water and glitter from inside sprayed the side of my face. What was left of the blue and silver London skyline slid along the wall and shattered further once it hit the floor. The remnants of the snow-globe lay shattered and crushed beneath the soles of my shoes as I slowly stepped back towards the bedroom door. I could hear the sound of water seeping between the small gaps of the hardwood living room floor.

          Everything fell silent in my head. There were no more words to be spoken. The only noises that I could hear were the thoughts in my own mind, the memories of nine years flashing into focus in front of my eyes, superimposed over my view of Jordan sitting in a fetal crouch against the far living room wall, her face buried in her hands, sobbing uncontrollably. I could not hear her; I could only see her. I wanted so badly to hold her but I could not go to her, I could not seem to muster the strength to move my feet and legs in her direction.

          I didn’t say a word. The shock and fear set in on my conscience almost immediately. Jordan stayed where she sat, still shaking with rage sobbing quietly. A cloud of silence fell over the both of us, neither moving a muscle.

          Soft metered knocking on the front door finally broke the tension. I slowly started towards the door, almost afraid to take my eyes off Jordan for fear that something else would be thrown in my direction. When I finally reached my destination, I realized that the door had been unlocked the entire time I had been home. I slowly opened the door and found a very attractive athletic woman standing before me. She stood about five inches taller than myself, causing me to raise my glance a bit. She was wearing a tea green long-sleeved t-shirt, blue jeans, and what appeared to be black leather biker boots. She was a towering blonde.

          “Hi, is Jordan home?” she asked as she looked over my head and into the apartment.

          I stared at her, “Who might you be?” I responded, trying fruitlessly to regain her attention.

          “Yeah, I’m Sarah.” She said still looking around me. “Jordan asked me to help her out tonight. You must be Sam. If you’ll excuse me.” She said as she began to walk into the apartment, and past me. “This should only be a few minutes.”

          I stood motionless as the newly introduced Sarah walked past me and directly into the living room, as if she had been there before.

          “You okay?” I heard her ask Jordan, who was only just now beginning to stand up.

          “Yeah, I’ll be fine.” She responded, rubbing the tears from her face. “Lets just get this stuff. We can come back for the rest tomorrow,” she said, pointing to the boxes in the middle of the living room floor.

          I walked into the room to see Sarah’s left hand on Jordan’s left shoulder and her right hand stroking Jordan’s back. My heart began to race with rage and jealousy. What the hell was going on here? Who the hell did she think she was caressing Jordan like that in front of me? I cleared my throat, signaling to both of them that I was back in the room. They looked over at me but didn’t say a word.

          “You’ll be back tomorrow then?” I asked in a quietly shy voice.

          “Yeah, after work.” Jordan answered gruffly.

          “So it would be best for everyone if maybe you worked late tomorrow.” Sarah was insistent in her tone. She had just told me to stay out of the way and let her move my girlfriend out.

          “Ah, ok.” It was the only response I could come up with. I stood with my hands in the pockets of my slacks, head bent, staring at the shattered snow-globe on the floor.

          Sarah didn’t miss a beat. She began arranging the boxes like a pro mover and asking Jordan which ones would be going into storage and which to her place, marking each with a large, putrid-smelling permanent marker. I decided that the best place for me was out of the way, so I gathered my briefcase and cigarettes and stepped out on to the balcony to settle down as much as I could.

          It was only about five minutes before I saw Sarah exit the first floor door with a box, walk to a small pick-up truck parked in the loading zone in front of our building and set it in the bed. She and Jordan repeated this trip about five times each until they were through with the mess in the living room. Jordan didn’t bother to let me know she was leaving. She simply boarded the passenger side of Sarah’s truck and they drove off, leaving me to clean up the shattered mess that was left of the snow-globe and the tornadic destruction inside the apartment.

          I walked back into the quiet, still apartment. It looked lonely and disturbed. I went into the kitchen to get a dish towel, broom and dustpan to clean the floor, but came out with a glass full of ice and a bottle of vodka.

          I placed my left hand on the wall to brace myself, but I could stand no more. Sliding to the floor, much like the skyline of London, I sank into a ball with my back against the wall. Crying, still holding onto the cold sweating glass of ice.

          I don’t remember hearing the phone ring the entire night, but when I woke I found several messages on the answering machine, but none of them from Jordan. I reeked of cigarette smoke and alcohol. Empty packs of cigarettes and their remnants formed an odd crescent shape around where I had fallen asleep on the hardwood floor beside the destroyed snow-globe, along with an empty quart of vodka and several travel size liquor bottles.

          My body ached as I sat up, trying to shield my eyes from the blinding sun entering through the open curtains. I stumbled to the bathroom, attempting to find the strength to clean myself up. Startled by the phone, I made my way over to the receiver on the floor of the bedroom, next to the bed.

          “Hello?” My voice was harsh and dry sounding.

          “Sam?” It was Rachel.

          “Yeah.”

          “Jesus, you sound like shit.”

          “Well, I feel like shit.” My head had begun to throb with the onset of a much-earned hangover.

          “I’ve been trying to reach you all morning.” Rachel sounded a bit frantic. I fumbled around trying to see my watch to find the time.

          “What time is it?”

          “It’s two o’clock.”

          “Shit! Class.”

          “Yeah, Bloomridge is pissed.” Thomas Bloomridge is the head of the history department and an old-fashioned man, the type of professor who would teach from his deathbed. The old man had not missed a day of class in thirty years and expected the same of his staff. “He’s been looking for you all morning. Wants to know why you missed class and left it to a grad student to cancel.”

          “Fuck!” I whispered, rubbing my eyes trying to clear my blurred vision until I realized I was missing my glasses.

          “Fuck is right. You know how that son of a bitch can be.” There was a pause in our conversation as Rachel answered a question from someone else talking with her in her office. “Get ready, I’ll be there in a little bit so you don’t have to ride the Metro.”

          “Yeah, I’ll be ready when you get here.” I hung up the phone.

          “I can’t believe this shit,” I said out loud to myself. Somehow I managed to find cloths that had not been thrown from the closet to the floor by Jordan the previous night, and found my way into a cold shower.