to offer whatever support was needed.
“I’ve never wanted a smoke so bad in my life,” said Terri as she adjusted her purse strap on her shoulder. She snapped her fingers as she walked, as if they needed something to occupy them to take her mind off the craving. Her constant fidgeting and muttering under her breath made it clear that Evie didn’t need to respond at the moment.
Truly, her mind was blank. She’d never been in this situation before, never had to have consoling words inside prison walls. Thank goodness they were on this side of the glass, though. The very atmosphere was stifling with the sense of freedom removed. She couldn’t wait to breathe fresh air again.
They stopped at the door for the guard to check them out.
Terri sighed as she waited, her entire body slumping like too many cupcakes stacked together. “He’s not at all sorry. It makes me ache right here.” She pounded her fist heavily against her chest. “He doesn’t want to change, not even for me.” Her voice cracked on the last word, and she looked like a dam about to break.
Evie rubbed her back. “I’m so sorry.”
They were cleared and allowed to make their way through the lobby and out to the parking lot. Both women lifted their faces to the sun and drew in deep breaths. They turned and shared a sad smile.
“I love him more than he loves me,” Terri announced.
“I’m sure that’s not true.” Evie hit the button to unlock their doors, and they climbed in. The car smelled like piña colada air freshener and happiness. She might never take the freedom to hop in and go for a burger for granted again.
“It is true. I’ve changed so much of who I am to be with him.” Terri rolled down the window and hung her arm out in the wind. She contemplated the scenery for a moment. “You wouldn’t know it, but I was quite the catch. I had this long hair that flowed like honey, and perfect skin. I was so innocent when I married him. So trusting and believing that a man would want love and want to give it as much as I wanted to. I changed. Grew up, grew wiser.” She dropped her hand as it surfed the wind. “I’m going to have to face it, though: he took advantage of my unconditional love and didn’t return it. I don’t know what hurts more, the loss of my innocence or knowing he didn’t really love me.”
Terri glanced over at her. “I don’t expect you to understand. Your man is so in love with you, he can hardly see straight. But thanks for coming anyway.”
Evie started at her last comment. “No! He’s … I … That’s not true.”
Terri rubbed her forehead. “What am I going to do?”
Evie turned the corner. She checked the clock to see if they had time to stop for a soda or ice cream. Terri needed comfort foods in a big way, and they didn’t have anything back at the house. She searched for some advice. “Journaling helps me clear my mind. Usually, when I write things down, the answer becomes clear. But I’m not even sure where you’d start writing in this situation. Feelings aren’t exactly black and white; they’re more of a Skittles bag full of colors that don’t mix.”
“Oh, they mix, all right. And they make mud. Which is what I’m in right now. Even now, I know I love him. I look at the man he’s become, and I ask how I could love a loser like that—and there isn’t an answer.”
Maybe instead of focusing on the problem, Terri needed a break. “I know this is a bad time to ask, but how are you at English?”
Terri’s head rolled to the side as she took Evie’s measure. “Like the language or what?”
“Like homework?”
“Terrible.”
Shoot. Okay, plan B. “How are you at making cookies?” She’d planned to have a snack for the girls, but Terri’s visit had taken longer than she’d anticipated.
“Cookies I can do. My grandma had a recipe that’s pretty great.”
Evie’s heart soared with hope. She had this feeling that Terri needed to be needed. “Do you have it with you?”
“I memorized it years ago.”
“Perfect.” She changed lanes and took the exit that would take them to the church. “I have a couple girls who are down on their luck who could really use some cookie therapy while they work on their homework.”
Terri shifted in her seat. “I wouldn’t mind