‘How terribly ironic,’ you think in a monotone as you pause at the end of the frozen foods aisle. The lights are garish and bright and burning into your irises. The linoleum covered floor reflects a portrait of everything so much that it feels as if there’s light coming at you from all directions.

You pause and take a deep, fortifying breath before nonchalantly wheeling your cart down the aisle. You came for frozen peas and come hell or high water you will get your peas.

He’s examining a frozen chicken, completely oblivious of your approaching form and you find a small smile playing on your lips at the thought of him cooking said chicken. He’s clad in a black leather jacket and oh so casual denim jeans.

He stands upright and deposits the frozen chicken in the basket he’s carrying then turns to face you. You take another deep breath as you notice him freeze, his eyes glued to you. You force a shaky smile and curl the fingers of your right hand in a weak little wave.

“Hi,” You murmur as you take the last few steps and pause in front of the frozen peas. There’s now only a few feet separating you and him. Who knew peas and chicken were so closely related?

He still hasn’t answered so you peruse the peas as if they’re the most exciting thing in the entire world. Mint peas, baby peas, normal peas…. Is there such a thing as normal and should it really be wasted on peas? ‘Oh, crap, say something Tommy…’

The heavens open, your prayer is heard. “Hi,” He finally croaks.

You glance up at him from the corner of your eyes, half by expecting to see his departing form now the pleasantries have been successfully tackled but he’s still standing there. He’s not frozen anymore; he doesn’t have the appearance of a deer blinded in the headlights of an oncoming vehicle. He’s found his confident slouch once again as he casually leans against the freezer, watching you. You raise your eyebrows momentarily, a gesture of awkwardness, before randomly snatching a bag of peas and tossing them into the cart.

You pause. Now what?

“How are you?” You finally manage. It’s polite, it’s appropriate, it’s casual. Gosh, it’s pathetic…

He nods; his expression stoic. “I’m fine.”

You nod too and look away awkwardly. A mother pushes her cart past and you smile at the small child playing with a soft toy in the children’s seat up front.

“I’m sorry.” Tommy murmurs and you find yourself reacting just as you always do at those two ugly, meaningless words. Your body freezes, the life seeps out of your eyes and the constricting pain encloses around your ribs, squeezing the air out of you.

‘What for?’ You want to ask it but you don’t. It’s not fair. He is sorry. You get that. He’s sorry you chose Jamie over him, he’s sorry your daughter died of cot death and he’s sorry Jamie died in a car crash a few months later. He’s sorry you’re suffering. He’s not heartless.

You nod wordlessly, unable to meet his gaze.

“It’s been a long time.” He observes and from the corner of your eyes you see him turn away from you until his back is to the freezer and he’s staring out into the aisle.

“Yeah,” You whisper.

There’s silence. Damn, hideous silence and it’s choking the two of you. It’s so oppressive and heavy you can feel it pushing you down to the floor. It’s as if your feet are sinking into the linoleum and you’re clawing, trying to pull yourself up.

“Take care of yourself, Jude,” He says and suddenly your eyes lift and meet his. He’s not angry at you anymore. There’s sincere warmth in those familiar blue eyes.

Like a dumb mute you nod your head and watch as he walks away.

Suddenly the lights don’t seem so bright. Suddenly you just want to leave this crowded shopping mall.

You forget the diet, mutter ‘screw it’ under your breath and rush over to the door housing the cartons of ice cream. You close your eyes momentarily at the gust of icy air as the door swings towards you then randomly grasp the first tub your fingers find. Flavor really doesn’t matter right now.

You’re in a daze as the checkout girl prices your items and bags them. You don’t even acknowledge that horrible ‘paper or plastic’ question and barely register your pin number as you angrily punch it onto the keypad. Finally it’s over and you’re wheeling your cart out the front doors and across the overheated tarmac to your waiting car.

But you stop when you see him. Casually leaning against the back door of the sedan, his arms crossed over his chest. You know his eyes are on you, though you can’t see through the darkness of the sunglasses he’s hiding behind.

You resume your walk, trying to act casual and unfazed as you reach the car and fumble in your pockets for your keys. Despite the small enclosed space they continue to elude you until finally your fingers grasp the cool metal and you cling to it for dear life.

“Quincy,” You nod at him in greeting then cringe at how easily the name falls from your tongue as if it hadn’t been more then five years since you last uttered it.

You toss your bags into the back seat of the car, not caring about the eggs or bruising the fruit. You do quickly search until you’ve located and retrieved the tub of ice cream before you close the door behind you and once again turn to Tommy; holding the Ice cream, cradled to your stomach as if it’s some protective shield.

He eyes the Ice cream and takes in the desperate, heartbroken look in your eyes. He nods and produces two plastic spoons from the pocket of his jacket. You don’t have the energy or willpower to wonder at their existence. You just nod and motion to the passenger door. He slides in and you slowly walk around to the driver’s side.

Five years ago he would have teased you about your driving but he’s silent as you drive to a nearby park. He doesn’t say anything as you get out of the car though he’s gentleman enough to carry the Ice cream. Okay, that made you smile. This whole situation is so crazy, weird and ironic that you shake your head as a sparkle once again dances in your eyes.

You sink down onto the cool grass beneath a large oak tree and Tommy sits across from you. He sets the Ice cream down between you and hands you a spoon. You accept it and pry the lid of the Ice cream. This is a religious experience; it must be treated with the right reverence. This is over indulgence of sugar laced calories for the sake of dulling the pain. Thank God you never cared for alcohol…

You both sit in silence as rays of sunlight stream through the leaves above you. The Ice cream is quickly melting but that only makes it taste the better. You stab your spoon into the sticky concoction then bring it up to your lips, eyeing Tommy as you do so.

He’s leaning back against the tree trunk and gazing ahead of him thoughtfully. He’s obviously not as good at this sugar over indulgence as you; he takes smaller bites and they’re fewer between. Whatever, that simply means more for you.

“Penny for your thoughts?” You venture, admiring your own bravery. Was it safe to bring up his thoughts? Was that somewhere you wanted to go?

He glances over at you and you realize he’d been far away and only just snapped back to attention. “Just reminiscing,” he offers simply.

You nod and spoon more Ice cream into your mouth. His eyes soften. “You’ve got a little-“ He motions to his chin and your eyes widen as you swipe at the offending Ice cream from your own chin. You must have missed because he leans forward and gently wipes it away with the pad of one thumb.

You freeze at the motion and wish your body would stop betraying you in such a manner. You haven’t spoken to the guy in five years, the last time you did you ripped his heart out and walked away as he yelled after you that he hated you. He called you countless names you wouldn’t repeat in decent company and at the time, even now you’d conceded you kind of deserved it.

You chose Jamie over him. You loved Jamie more you loved him – or maybe just more then you’d allow yourself to love him. Jamie was safe, Tommy had proven time and time again; he wasn’t.

Almost as if he’d crawled into your mind and read your memories of his cruel name calling – or maybe he’d just glimpsed them in your eyes, he always could read you like that – Tommy remarked softly, “I’m sorry.”

This time you didn’t swallow the response. “For what?”

“For what I said. I didn’t mean it. I was… angry.”

You shrug noncommittally and stab your spoon into the gooey Ice cream once again. It feels good so you do it again, and again, and again. Tommy watches silently. “It’s okay,” you mean it. It really is. “I understand.” You pause and gaze up at the soft green leaves above you, admiring the way they dance in the soft breeze. “I’m sorry too. For everything.”

And then you talk and it feels… right. It feels natural; all the awkwardness is gone and you’re once again Jude and Tommy. You discuss your lives over the last five years and even venture the complicated issues. You imagine he suspects, as you did, as the police did, that Jamie’s collision with the tree was maybe not such an accidental death. You sympathize with his career woes and the collapse of his production company a few years earlier.

You realize you’ve both suffered in the time that’s past. What is they always say about suffering making you stronger? Perhaps that true. Perhaps you’re better people then you were. Perhaps that means something.

You look into his eyes and… what do you see?

You’re too jaded to still be that naïve girl who believes in fairy tale happy endings but that doesn’t have to mean everything is darkness. When you look into his eyes you see… hope. You see a reason to believe and know that life doesn’t have to be this bleak existence you’ve been dwelling in. You see a sign that maybe past mistakes aren’t necessarily forever, that sometimes you can rebuild and sometimes you can be forgiven. You don’t have to suffer for eternity for the mistakes of yesteryear. You realize that there are constant turns in the road; life is nothing if not full of changes.

What’s around the corner? You won’t pretend to know. But tomorrow? It’s a whole new day.