Many Waters

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  I cried when he left, of course, even though I told myself a dozen times I wouldn’t.

  I rode home from the airport with Miss Josie in silence, too miserable to talk much. I glanced at myself in the mirror when I got home and realized I looked awful from crying, but I didn’t care. I washed my face and brushed my hair so maybe Jenny wouldn’t notice the condition I was in, and then lay down on my bed to stare bleakly at the ceiling, hugging the biggest bear I could find. However much I might promise that even ten years apart wouldn’t matter, it was still hard.

  I thought about lots of things, the next few days. I thought about going after him to Alaska, in spite of the rules against it. I thought about ways to get money so he could come back home sooner. I thought about all kinds of crazy plans. I even thought about trying to get a job with the oil company myself. One by one I realized how impossible and hopeless they all were. Leaving Mama with no one to take care of her except Jenny would be unforgivable, and as for money, well, I’m no trust-fund girl, that’s for sure.

  I finally came to the conclusion that all I could do was hunker down and wait it out till he came back home next summer, no matter how hard that might be. I meant what I said when I told him he was my one and only, and I wasn’t going to give him up no matter what it might cost me.

  I knew he was right about how people tended to get wandering eyes after a while, when they were apart for so long. That was no lie. I was determined never even to look at another man, but I guess somewhere in the back of my mind I couldn’t help wondering what if Cody was the one who found someone else? What if he met some hot little chick up there in Alaska and decided he didn’t want me anymore, and I ended up waiting for him for nothing? It wasn’t like he wouldn’t have his pick of them, if he wanted to. I could see it happening in my mind’s eye, clear and sharp as on a movie screen.

  The mere thought of Cody being with some other girl brought up a red-hot surge of loss and grief, and fresh tears spilled out to soak my pillowcase. I told myself to get a grip and not to be ridiculous, but that was hard, too.

  My year of desolation had started.