my sweetheart #9: uprooted

September 2088. Jordan Graham is 28, Felix and Milo are 9, Colette Marin is 31, Ingrid Thompson is 24, Maria Boone is 26.

“Find the only broken camper on Brindleton Main Street, parked next to a duplex. You really can’t miss it.”

Jordan found Ingrid’s camper, and hopefully it would mean a quick buck. She said that she would pay him and he hoped she meant in actual money. He had nowhere else to go, and this was as good a place to park as any.

Leaving Maria’s bed that morning felt just as wrong as it was necessary. He was transient now. He had places to go but nowhere to stay. He did it. He rocked the boat. He uprooted his life for a chance at something wild and untamed, and would it be for the better? Who could say? But he suspected, at least, it probably couldn’t be worse.

Hardly seven in the morning, it was too early to start work on the repairs or begin poking around someone’s property unannounced. He tried to close his eyes, running on maybe four troubled hours of sleep, but the adrenaline of cracking open his whole life kept him awake.

And look at that, the twinkle of golden morning sunlight lighting up the bay. He needed to be a part of it. 




How had he never seen the bay at sunrise? Always too busy and tired from the hustle and bustle to stop and notice the smell of fresh-caught fish and boats refueling, the caw of hungry seagulls pecking for their breakfast, and shopkeepers running to open up the day. Look at what he found. How much more was out there waiting to be found?

He was transient and free and becoming truly excited, because today was the start of a whole new life. The day crackled with possibilities. Already he felt like the lord of his own destiny, even if Colette didn’t know it was true yet. Today is the day she would know it. 



He stayed on that dock for a while, listening to the morning come awake. And he thought of Maria and how he left her. She would wake soon to an empty bed, with questions and doubts. He never wished that for her. He sent her a text.

Jordan: Sorry, I couldn’t sleep, didn’t want to wake you. I have a lot to get done.

Maria: Will you say goodbye before you go? Please?

Jordan: I will. Promise.

He had a lot of goodbyes to say, and the day was going to be long with them.



Nine o’clock, a more reasonable hour to begin work, he knocked on the door and got the key from Ingrid’s brother. He started work on the camper.

There was nothing here she couldn’t have repaired at any corner workshop in an afternoon. It was probably another game of hers that she asked him to do it. He had tools in his truck, and there was a parts shop around the corner. The fix didn’t take much more than an hour. The camper was roadworthy, but stinky nonetheless. He sprayed some deodorizer on the piss-scented carpets and left the windows cracked open.

—

Maria was the only one who knew of his plans, the only one devastated already. There would have to be more disappointments, yet he couldn’t deny himself this, even if he should. They were too good together. It was too natural. 

So if he was going to ruin her, he’d ruin himself too when he finally left. It was only fair. She was so special, irreplaceable. He was growing too settled here. He could make a home here, but wouldn’t that be just the same? Maybe not. Maybe he had it all wrong. Only one way to know. This trouble better be worth it in the end.

He held her in bed and his mind spun in circles trying to figure out how they could keep this. He’d come back to visit, and maybe she could come out, too. When he got lonely from being alone, like she said. Even if it was a long time. They’d see each other on vacations, on long weekends, here and there. Would it be enough? He couldn’t imagine waiting very long. Months? Could he really go months without this now that he knew how good this was? 

So they wasted a few days, days turned into weeks. They lived in this magical bubble they created in her bed, for a short time, where he was neither going nor staying. The bubble they created there was beautiful.  

He began to dread the day as it came. The camper is fixed. It was time to finish the rest of his business and go. 

“I have to tell the boys,” he told her. 

“Oh,” she sighed, knowing that meant the wheels of the end were beginning to turn. She mourned quietly for a moment, then she touched his hand. “How do you think they’ll take it?”

“Bad, I would guess. I don’t know.” 

Talk me out of it, he wished. Plead a case for staying. If she begged, he wouldn’t deny her. He would stay and he would love her and maybe it would all be okay. 

She laid her cheek on his hand, like an anchor, but then she kissed him there on his knuckles. She looked at him the way she looked that night, forlorn and accepting, no, that’s no good, either. “Tell them from your heart,” she said. “You mean well. Maybe they won’t know it now, but someday they’ll understand.”

—

So, one afternoon, he went home. But this was not his home. Not anymore, and it hadn’t been for a very long time, even if he had still slept on the couch most nights. This was his boys’ home, Colette’s home. But he had a key still and let himself in.

He intended to spend the afternoon with his boys.




Colette scowled as he rushed past and ran up the stairs to fill a bag with his things. She had a look on her face. Maybe she felt something coming—the shock waves of joyous freedom coming from him were so strong.  

He grabbed some towels and the boys’ swimsuits. He grabbed a few changes of clothing for himself, realizing then that most of his wardrobe could fit into a single backpack. 

Colette had other ideas, of course. 

“I have the day planned, Jordan. You can’t just slither in here from god knows where and hijack my whole day. I was going to take them to tutoring while I get my nails done.”

“Then go get your nails done,” he said, “I’m taking my kids to the beach.”

The boys liked his plan better—which Colette hated—so they all hurried out the door while Colette continued to whine about the importance of getting a head start on the school year before it began, advanced academic placement pathways, and how fourth grade was such a crucial year for math.

It was still summer vacation for five more days, and Jordan was taking his boys out to enjoy the sunshine.

They had a nice day together, worn out by the sunshine and sand. They ate hamburgers at sunset and then they took a walk out to the pier. The boats had docked and the seagulls had finished clamoring over their scraps. The evening grew quiet and the waves grew still. It was a good time to have a serious talk.

Jordan knew he needed to get to them first. They needed to hear it from him first, in his words and not hers. They took it how he expected they would. They rejected it first, they had questions and doubts, but they let him explain his side of the story. 

He wanted them to know that living free and simple was fine, because he knew their mother would tell them it was not. He wanted them to know that there was more to life than only achievement and wealth—there was experience and exploration and learning something random and fascinating that you may never use. He wanted them to value a hard day’s labor, the kind of whole-body work that makes you sleep hard at night.  

He promised them Japan, Hawaii, Mexico, and Brazil. He would take them skiing, snorkeling, and hiking. They’d go somewhere new every summer and school break and long weekend. The air would always smell different. They’d never say, “I’m bored.”

He gave them so many promises, and he hoped they wouldn’t become lies. 



By the end of his speech, they were sold on the idea. And that was the best he could hope for. 

Spent on emotions, the boys ran off to torment some seagulls. While they were playing, Jordan pulled out his phone. 

Jordan:  I told the boys. I think they took it okay. 

Maria:  I’m so glad. ❤️

Maria:  Come over later if you want. 😉

And didn’t that sound delightful? But he should have known it was all going too well. He hadn’t told Colette the news yet. 

—

While the boys were out, Colette treated herself to some expensive pampering. She liked her massage like she liked her sex—deep, hard, and rough. 

“Harder,” Colette demanded. “I said harder.” 

“Lady, I’m gonna break your back,” the masseuse said. 

Then she finished off her afternoon with a fresh set of claws, dagger-sharp. Perfect! Just in case anyone tried to claim that she was a miserable bitch. She was a bitch, yes! But she wasn’t always miserable. 

—

Jordan brought the boys back home. “Why don’t you boys head upstairs and play a game. Your mom and I need to talk.”

Colette moaned at the idea of it. She turned off the show she was watching.

“Oh, God, I just paid a lot of money for the best massage. Why do I feel like you’re about to destroy my chill?”

“It doesn’t take much to destroy your chill, to be honest,” Jordan said. 

Colette held her tongue until she heard the boys turn on their video game. 

“What is it now? Rumors are you’re messing around with that blonde skank from your work. So gross. Jordan, your bar is set so low it’s in the sewer. I bet she has all kinds of diseases.”

“I’m not sleeping with Ingrid,” he said. 

“Who then?”

“It doesn’t matter. I’m leaving.”

“Damn right you are. And don’t let the door hit you on the—”

“I mean, I’m leaving. I told the boys already, we talked about it. I’m moving out west.” 

“What? Where?” 

“Nevada, probably. It’s not definite yet.” 

“Like hell you are!”

“Colette, you can’t tell me to leave, then tell me where I can’t go.”



“What about your kids!?”

“Yeah, well, what about them? You aren’t giving me many options. I said I’d take them with me some of the time. You told me no.”

“Wrong. I told you not a chance in hell.”

“So what am I supposed to do? You have to let me see my kids. I guess you’ll decide when and where. Don’t you always get the final say about when and how and everything? Well, I’m sick of it. I’m done.”

“God, I can’t believe this. I can’t believe... What was I thinking? Ugh, I used to want to marry you.” 

“You didn’t want to marry me,” he said.  

They both sat in a minute of silence, pondering those unfortunate truths. She wanted to marry someone—after all, marriage had wonderful economic benefits—but she wouldn’t have picked him if she had any other choice. He didn’t want to marry her, either. They had it right ten years ago when they got knocked up and decided that they should definitely not be a couple. 

“Why couldn’t you just be normal? Why do you have to be such a freeloading loser?” 

Colette mused this out loud. Not exactly at him, but almost as if she were speaking it to herself. 

“You were supposed to get a real job and find some ambition and stop living like a hobo, and all of this could have been different. How did I get myself into this? What have I done? I’m gonna be thirty-two years old. I should have found somebody else years ago. The boys need a real father in their life. I need a real man in my bed. Not some overgrown frat boy. What woman would want you? I’m sure you can get women to fuck you, but no woman will ever want to keep you.” Then she finally looked him in the eyes. “Just go. Just leave. I mean now. Move!”

He didn’t have anything more to say to her anyway. 

He didn’t take anything besides what he grabbed earlier for the beach. He kept all of his tools and camping gear in his truck, and as it turned out, being the hobo that he was, he didn’t own much else of any great value. 



He had nothing more to say to her, but he still fumed inside.  

He had broken his whole world in half. There was a checklist of people to disappoint, and he was going down the list one by one. 

At some point, he needed to stop by the Inn and give Sharon his notice. She had been a good employer to him, and that Inn had been a happy respite for the past few years, but he couldn’t give her the time she deserved. 

Sorry, not two weeks, I’m quitting now. 

How disappointing, she would say. I expected better from you. 

He got in his truck and he drove, but he had nowhere to go. He belonged nowhere. Maria said to come over, but Colette’s sting still burned inside him, and he wouldn’t go to Maria with that energy. He didn’t want to tarnish their gentle love with so much ugliness. Even if her comfort would make him feel better, even if she would reassure him that he wasn’t all those nasty things that Colette said. 

Colette’s complaints were not entirely wrong, and Maria would see that someday, too. 

He was welcome nowhere, so he drove and drove until he was too tired to drive anymore. He ended up parked next to Ingrid’s rancid camper. 

If nothing else, on some level, he and Ingrid got each other.

—

gameplay: Jordan and Colette break up

notes: There’s one more chapter for this story set, but we’re not done. We’ll still see plenty more of these characters in the coming seasons, after I catch up on some much-needed gameplay!