Three Strikes

Denise Jonas nodded her head, a sad smile pulled across her lips. She patted the woman’s hand and sighed. “I understand,” she said finally. Her eyes blinked back tears that she willed herself not to cry. “As long as you think it’s for the best.”

“I do.” Rose said, staring into the older woman’s eyes. “I won’t tell anyone. I’ll keep my word.”

“I know you will, sweetheart. You’ve always had a heart of gold, why change now?” Denise carefully picked up their empty cups that had once held steaming tea. “And I know you’re going to go on to do great things. You’re talented.”

“Thanks.” Smiled Rose, clutching her sequinned purse. “Denise?”

“Yes?”

“With the boys being gone… can I… I mean, may I be excused for a minute?”

“Of course.” Rose had a feeling that Denise knew what she wanted to do. Exiting the sitting room, Rose made her way into the hallway before taking to the stairs. Across the landing she spotted the room she was looking for. Entering Joe’s bedroom she stared around at his neat belongings - Joe had always been OCD about his bedroom. She tiptoed inside and moved to his dresser, fumbling in her purse for something. Pulling it out she set the two objects down - two rings. Her engagement ring. And her purity ring.

And beside them a letter. Rose left the room, pressed down the stairs and said her final goodbyes to Denise who was the only who knew she was leaving. With one last look at the house, at LA’s sunshine, Rose jumped into her car and drove to LAX with only one place in mind.

Hours later when Joe Jonas entered his bedroom to see the note and rings - his heart jumped in his chest. And as he read her neat script, he sat on the floor, the note crumpled in his fisted hands.

I would never wish bad things but I don’t wish you well.