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Let's Live Like Jack & Sally

Say Goodbye

The phone was ringing off the hook, it's shrill sound hitting my ears as I pressed open the door to the apartment with my hip, both arms full of groceries. "Go to hell." I snapped at it and made my way to the kitchen. The ringing stopped and the familiar answering machine message picked up. I shut my eyes.
Jack swept me off my feet and carried me up the stairs to our new home, his lips nuzzling into my ear. "Welcome home baby girl." He grinned slyly and sat me down on the couch, motioning around the practically empty room while waving his arms like a chicken.

I giggled and shook my head at him. "I bet you're soooo proud of yourself, aren't you." I beamed up at my husband of three weeks, hooking my thumbs into his belt loops.

"Yes. Stop. Don't distract me. " he grinned and picked up a wrapped box from the side of the couch, "open it baby."

I raised an eyebrow and tore off the yellow wrapping paper. "A phone?"

"Welcome to adult hood baby girl." Jack smiled at me and took it out of the box. I waited while he set it up and scrambled into his lap. "Ready?" His finger hovered over the record button.

I kissed my husband on the face and beamed, nodding enthusiastically. "Yes, yes."

"I'm Jack," Jack's voice carried out through the speaker. And then mine " and I'm Rebelle!" And then us together. "And we're the Barakats. We're not home right now, or we just don't like you! Either way, leave us a message! We might call back!" And then the dual tone.
I bit back tears, stuffed the milk in the fridge, and listened.

"Hey...uh it's Alex. You haven't changed that yet....God that's nice to know." His voice was scratchy, the asshole was probably drunk. "Rebelle it's been six months. You can't keep avoiding us. C'mon. The lawy-" I smashed the mute button and deleted the message, resting my hand on my tummy. They hasn't stopped calling since the day after the funeral, didn't they understand that I didn't want to talk to them?

"Someday they'll leave us alone, baby." I choked and rubbed at the sensitive area that she was kicking at.

I'd been promising her a lot of some days since she'd been given life. But when all I could do was promise some days...what else was I supposed to do.

Answering machine. Again. I left a message after the tone and threw my phone across the room. Jack's wife, the dumb bitch, refused to answer the phone. Ever since she'd came into his life Jack hasn't been the same. And now he was dead. And he left everything he'd ever owned to her. And I was left fumbling for some way to get ahold of her to tell her that her late husband had left her sustenance.

But she refused to answer the phone. I rubbed my face and got up, grabbing my bottle and the keys to my car. I was going to get an answer from her one way or another. I was done waiting.

I drove, hell it was pretty amazing how I drove, all the way to Jack’s apartment complex-miles from my home-without a single hitch in the way. There were a few cars in the lot, the last in the row a black Camaro with no paint detail except for the small skull and cross bones in the left corner of the back window. Jack’s car. I pulled in next to it and looked at the parking sticker hanging from the rearview mirror. G-13. The guys and I had never been to the complex…so I was pretty glad that the sticker was there.

With a rub of my face I made my way up to the door, taking in how dingy and uncomfortable the building was. Why would Jack make this his home? Probably the bitch that I had ruined his life and took him from us. I rubbed my face, knocked on the door of G-13, and let myself in when there was no answer.

The apartment was all the same neutral tone of beige. There was a small loveseat in the center of the room, bookshelves on the walls, no TV to be seen, and a small hallway that led to other rooms. The kitchen was just a small corner of the spacious room, there was no kitchen table, but there were clothes and shoes on the floor, a very familiar JAGK shirt thumbtacked to the wall, and a lime green guitar propped in the corner of the room. His wife had gotten most of his belongings when the bastard left us, she seemed to be comfortable hanging memories of him around her home.

Shaking my head, I walked to the green guitar and picked it up. She’d kept it tuned, probably played it a few times. It felt like he had just set it down. I was strumming a few strings when footsteps sounded behind me, and something hit the floor.

Turning, the first thing I saw was the thing she’d been hiding from us.


But, I've noticed that I can't spell Neverland, if I'm talking about Somewhere In Neverland I always spell it NetherlandxD
But, enjoy.


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