IT’S TIME. MY fingers shake as I type the words Memphis divorce lawyers in Google. I can’t keep letting Jordan think there’s a chance for us because there is no possible chance. Our marriage, our life together, is all over, but he still calls and thinks one day I’ll come running into his arms as if nothing happened.

Page after page, I click through names and addresses, but I have no clue what I’m looking for. Finally, I just click over to the next page and pick the name at the top. I shake my head at the name: Love and Attorneys, Divorce Specialist. That’s an oxymoron if I’ve ever seen one. I write down the name and number before I lock up the salon and head to my apartment.

It’s dark out, and I hold my pepper spray tightly in my hand. Jordan has sent me one every month since Trent’s wife was murdered. It’s the one thing I’ve kept from the numerous gifts he sends. I make sure the car doors are locked before I drive off.

My apartment isn’t far from the salon and I like it that way. Owning a hair and nail salon isn’t something I ever dreamed of doing. I’m not one to take risks or wake up one day and open a business. However, the Memphis air has made me do all sorts of different things. I left Jordan. I want a divorce. I own a salon. I’m a boss and have employees. I’m on my own. If someone told me I would be doing these things ten years ago, I wouldn’t have believed them.

My apartment is a simple studio. I didn’t need anything big because it’s just me. Jordan still lives in the house on the west side, but it never felt like home to me. I feel at home here, though. I’ve never lived on my own. After high school, I moved in with some friends. I didn’t know if I wanted to go to a big university or not, and in the end, I didn’t go. I always had a love for hair, nails, and crazy haircuts. I ended up at cosmetology school and got my license.

It’s how I met Jordan. He was playing minor baseball in South Carolina and would get his haircut from me. At first, he was a cocky twenty-something thinking he was going to be a big shot in the MLB. My first impression was he was just an ass who liked to brag on himself, but one night, after a very long day, I ran into him at a bar. One thing led to another and a year later, we were married and he was brought up from the minors.

It began a long journey of trades, injuries, and more baseball drama than I care to think about. However, I stood by his side time-and-time again. Until...

My phone rings as I pour myself a glass of wine. “Hi, Mom.”

“Heidi, how would I look with purple hair?”

“Like a fifty year old who is going through a midlife crisis. Why are you asking me?” I laugh.

“Actually, I was just seeing if you would tell me the truth. Your father isn’t listening to me and if he keeps it up, I’m going to start cooking him no-salt, low-fat dinners and see if he’ll listen then.” She’s threatening him, but I know she’ll do nothing of the sort.

“Mom, I’m sure Dad is just watching TV. You know how he is.”

“The old fart,” Mom mumbles.

I laugh harder. I long to find someone who I could have a relationship like my parents have. They nag at each other, but they love each other more than their own life. I thought I had it with Jordan, but it disappeared a few years into our marriage.

“How’s your day, Heidi?” Mom asks after I stop laughing.

“It was good and the salon is really starting to pick up business.”

“Have you talked to Jordan?”

My parents love Jordan. They think of him as their son, and I sometimes wonder if they’re on his side in this whole matter, but they don’t say anything to me.

“Well, he sent me flowers again. My desktop is beginning to look like a greenhouse.”

“He’s sorry and he loves you.”

“I’m contacting a divorce lawyer tomorrow. I’ve been putting it off because I wanted to get the salon up and going and make sure I was making the right choice and I am. So, it’s time.”

The silence on the other end worries me for a moment. “If you think that’s best for you, then okay.” Mom’s tone tells me how sad she really is.

“It’s going to be fine. I’m going to be fine. Jordan is going to be fine.” I keep saying it again and again. The word ‘fine’ is my favorite word here lately.

“Keep telling yourself that, dear.”

***