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7
Day Seven
I join everyone for one last breakfast. All of the friends I’ve made and everyone I’ve met this week are huddled at a table, Jackson included. Melissa spots me and calls me over. Unsure of how this will play out with Jackson, I reluctantly head that way. Halfway there, Jackson makes eye contact with me, and my breath catches. His features are soft and nothing like they were yesterday. And for a second, I start to believe that maybe he’s no longer upset with me. Maybe I will have that shot at apologizing. But, as smooth as he’s ever been, he says a few words to the guys and leaves the crowd, deliberately walking in the opposite direction.
So much for that hope, I think to myself while forcing a smile. The entire time I sit here with these people, my mind is elsewhere, crowded by thoughts of Jackson as I try to understand why he would be so pissed with me. Was I truly wrong in the way I reacted? It wasn’t my intention to dismiss his feelings. Honestly, I don’t know what my intentions were. I do know that I didn’t want to cause a scene and get that I probably could’ve chosen better words. Someone’s talking to me, but I don’t register what’s being said. After a while, I excuse myself and decide to go grab my bags so I can be amongst the first to exit the vessel.
We dock, and soon the walkways are flooded, loads of suitcases and grumpy people fighting to get home. As I reach the ladder leading off the boat, I spot D'Andre and Aliza waiting their turn. The bruise on his lip has scabbed over, but for the most part you couldn’t even tell he’d been in a fight. Unsure of how he’ll react in my presence, I quietly pass, hoping to avoid any possible tension. To my surprise, Aliza calls my name, her voice just as sweet as it has always been.
“Hey,” I say softly, approaching the couple.
“Hey.” She nudges him in the side. “D'Andre.”
I sense that whatever he’s about to say, he doesn’t want to. From what I know of D'Andre, apologies aren’t a thing he does well. He always gets awkward and sometimes says worse things in the process. By the looks of things, Aliza is forcing him to talk to me right now.
“I want to apologize for yesterday. I shouldn’t have acted the way that I did,” he finally says.
“He told me about what happened between the two of you and why he’s been so awkward and weird. So I told him he should consider moving forward and let you know he’s sorry,” Aliza adds.
My breath quickens as I mentally prepare myself for the potential backlash of sleeping with D'Andre. But, oddly enough, she smiles at me, making me feel that maybe he didn’t tell her everything.
“Um…that’s big of you, thanks. Listen, I had no i—”
“It’s…fine.” Aliza releases a shaky breath. “I certainly wasn’t happy about it. But my problem isn’t with you. It’s not like you can make him have sex with you. He chose to and assured me that you didn’t know about me. Not that it’s any of your business, but we were broken up at the time and…men.”
I don’t know how to feel about this confession, but I do appreciate her kindness. It takes a big woman to behave the way she has, which makes me feel worse. I didn’t know about her when I hooked up with him. While I was upset when he’d introduced her, I didn’t feel that bad about it. But, after meeting her, and her being so reasonable, I hate that I ever gave her something to be reasonable about.
“Thank you. And I’m truly sorry also. I never wanted anything to escalate the way it did. I certainly didn’t mean—” I point to D'Andre but am cut short.
“Don’t worry about it,” D'Andre says. “I was a jerk. If I was Jackson, I’d kick my ass, too.”
We all chuckle and say our goodbyes.
D'Andre’s demeanor today is a welcome surprise, yet I’m left feeling unsatisfied. I know it all has to do with Jackson and the way we left things. That’s not my MO. I don’t like leaving things open-ended.
Before descending and holding the railing, I search the deck one last time in hopes I’ll see his face. When I don’t, I pivot and take the captain’s hand as he guides me safely off the boat. I grip the guardrail, struggling with my bag, trying not to lose my footing. Midway down, I glance across the open lot where I spot Jackson already heading towards his car. Now more disappointed than I was a moment ago, I release a breath, coming to terms with the fact I may have missed my shot.
I make it to the crowded platform then over to the covered garage where I left my car. It’s pretty late in the evening, so the place is nearly empty, with the exception of maybe five other vehicles. In the distance, people start their engines or load their trunks. I search my purse and locate my keys, popping the boot on my car when I find them. As I reach down for the handle of my suitcase, footsteps echo, but I don’t think much of it, figuring whoever it is, they’re trying to get out of here, too.
“Let me help you with that.”
I turn to find Jackson approaching me. As usual, he doesn’t wait for my answer and takes my luggage, gently placing it in the back of my car.
“Thanks.”
“No problem!”
I rub my hand along the nape of my neck and am about to speak but he goes first.
“Listen, Sabrina. I was pissed off after our fight and wasn’t going to say anything else to you. But I’ve had time to think and I saw you from my car over there.” He points to a car several feet from where I’m parked. “And I need you to know I’m sorry. You were very upfront about not wanting my help or any drama. My ego just wouldn’t let me leave well enough alone. I don’t know what I was thinking. I guess I just feel that after the other night and the way we were connecting it was—”
“Stop!”
He stops, waiting for me to speak.
“Thank you,” I say.
He furrows his brow, and I know I must be confusing him.
