Only You
Page 42
I kissed the top of her head, letting my lips rest on her soft dark hair. I breathed in her clean baby sent. I squeezed her tighter, so tight she began to squirm and fuss.
I loosened my hold on her a little, but my mind continued to torture me. Staring at the bed where I’d spent so many nights praying and hoping for a miracle, certain that it would be delivered and then broken beyond repair when it wasn’t, I remembered why I had lived my life alone up to this point. It wasn’t only the child you loved who was vulnerable, it was you.
Where Paisley was concerned, I had no choice. I loved her because she was mine. But what about Emme? She was a choice, wasn’t she? She was a wish I had made, a hope I had let break the surface. I’d been blinded by feelings for her, but now I saw my mistake.
What the fuck had I been thinking? Why had I let her in? Why had I given her pieces of me I could never get back? What was going to happen when she got tired of waiting around for me to change my mind about getting married or having a family and left me for someone who wanted the same things she did? It was bound to happen sooner or later. Why was I setting myself up for heartbreak, when I knew better than anyone that wishes don’t come true?
“Hey. You okay?”
I turned to see Emme standing in the doorway. “I don’t know.”
She nodded and entered the room, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “That was kind of rough.”
“Yeah.”
Emme looked around the room. “Was this yours?”
“Once upon a time. But the walls were dark blue back then.”
She smiled. “Like a bat cave.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Her smile faded as she walked toward me, her eyes were full of concern. She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her cheek against my arm. “I’m sorry, Nate. I don’t know what to say.”
“This isn’t your fault.” None of this was her fault, yet I kept wanting to apologize to her. Was it because I knew she was going to end up being hurt?
“Your mother is down there breathing into a paper bag.”
“Jesus. Of course she is.”
“What do you want to do?”
Get the fuck out of here. Turn back the clock. Get my life back on track. I took a breath. “Try again, I guess. Give it another hour or so. Is that okay with you?”
She kissed my shoulder. “Of course it is.”
Before we went back downstairs, I went into Adam’s room down the hall. It too had been repainted, from sky-blue to deep maroon. At some point, it had been converted into an office for my father and held a large desk, some bookshelves, and a leather chair in one corner. It smelled faintly of stale cigar smoke. I turned to Emme, waiting for me in the hallway. “Can I ask you to take Paisley downstairs? I need a minute to look for something.”
“Sure.” She reached for Paisley, smiling brightly at her. “I bet you’re hungry, peanut. Want a snack?”
“Good idea,” I told her. “Want to make her a bottle?”
She nodded and took the diaper bag from me too. “No problem. Maybe I can even recruit Grandma to help me.”
After she left, I went over to the closet and opened the door. It held some suits of my father’s zipped up in garment bags, a few dresses of my mother’s from the days when they enjoyed an active social life, and tons of wrapping paper, ribbon, and bows in stacked plastic containers. No wonder my mother’s gifts to me always smelled like mothballs. On the top shelf, I saw the box I was looking for. It was labeled BOYS.
I took it down and brought it over to the desk. A layer of dust covered the top, and I sent motes swirling when I lifted it off. Inside were relics from my childhood—I’d looked through this box many times and knew its contents. Our first pairs of shoes, bronzed, which we’d always thought was so weird but my mother claimed was a tradition in her family. Little velvet bags containing our baby teeth. Hats and gloves that had been knitted for us by relatives we’d never met. Childish drawings in crayon. School pictures. Adam’s stuffed bear. My Batman cape. And there toward the bottom was the item I wanted—his joke book. I took it out and thumbed through it. Its pages were yellowed and it smelled musty, like a basement. Inside the front cover, he’d printed his name in blue ink. Adam Pearson. Beneath that, he’d written a note:
KEEP OUT! THIS MEANS YOU. This book is my personl proprty and the only other person alowd to read it is my brothr Nate Pearson.
Despite the tightness in my chest, I smiled. Not once had I ever wanted to read his stupid joke book. But it meant something to me now that he would have let me. I should have been nicer. I should have laughed more. I should have appreciated being his big brother.
I’d been planning to ask my mother if I could have the book, but holding it in my hands only made the pain in my heart worse. Setting it back in the box, I replaced the top and put it back on the shelf in the closet and shut the door. Fucking feelings. You had to bury them, or they’d suffocate you.
I’d forgotten that.
Downstairs, the scene in the living room surprised me. My mother sat on the couch holding Paisley while Emme, sitting right beside her, held the bottle as Paisley drank. Both of them looked up when I came into the room.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m holding her,” my mother said nervously, her eyes dropping back to her granddaughter’s face. “I scrubbed my hands really well, and I’m not touching the bottle at all. So I don’t think the germs will endanger her.”
“It’s fine.”
I made eye contact with Emme. She smiled at me, her eyes shining, a beautiful, calming presence in this house full of ghosts, and my heart about exploded in my chest. My legs nearly gave out. My breath stopped.
Because I loved her. I loved her. For being here with me, for understanding me, for making me feel like I wasn’t alone.
Except I would end up alone, wouldn’t I? When she was gone, when she’d given up on me, when she’d realized I couldn’t give her everything she wanted and deserved.
You couldn’t control everything in life, maybe not even your feelings, but you could control your actions. I had to walk away, or I had to push her away. The thought of doing either one made me sick to my stomach, but I told myself to be a fucking man and get over it. Harden my heart. Take control.
Make the choice.
Seventeen
Emme
“So I know the beginning was a little difficult, but overall that went okay, don’t you think?” I asked hopefully as we drove away from the house.
“I guess.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully, but even that didn’t get rid of the worry lines creasing his forehead.
“At least your mom held her for a little while.”
“Yeah.”
“And she said maybe she would drive down in a couple weeks for another visit.”
“I heard her.” His tone said, but I don’t believe her.
“And wasn’t Paisley good today? I wonder if she’s saving it all up for a meltdown tonight.”
Nate frowned. “Probably.”
“Well, no worries. I’ll be there to help you. Maybe we can get takeout or something. Have a cocktail and watch a movie, just like the old days.” I wiggled happily in my seat. “It’s so nice to have a Saturday night off.”
Nate didn’t say anything.
“Hello? Does that sound like a plan?”
“What? Sure, whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
Clearly, he was too distracted to look forward to an evening together, and maybe he needed time to process the visit home. It was obvious to me that all the memories there, both good and bad, affected him deeply, as did his mother’s anxiety. If I’d thought he would talk to me about it, I would’ve asked him to. But even though he’d been more open with me over the last week—and especially last night—I didn’t get the feeling he was in the mood for conversation right now. Seemed like he wanted to brood for a bit.
I didn’t blame him for being upset. Painful memories aside, no parent wants to hear a list of all the harmful genetic conditions their child might be predisposed to, and it had to be even worse for Nate because of his brother. I’d seen the look on his face as his mother was talking, and at the word cancer, he’d gone completely white. He’d seemed a little better upstairs, but still on edge. Quiet and tense the rest of the afternoon.
I loosened my hold on her a little, but my mind continued to torture me. Staring at the bed where I’d spent so many nights praying and hoping for a miracle, certain that it would be delivered and then broken beyond repair when it wasn’t, I remembered why I had lived my life alone up to this point. It wasn’t only the child you loved who was vulnerable, it was you.
Where Paisley was concerned, I had no choice. I loved her because she was mine. But what about Emme? She was a choice, wasn’t she? She was a wish I had made, a hope I had let break the surface. I’d been blinded by feelings for her, but now I saw my mistake.
What the fuck had I been thinking? Why had I let her in? Why had I given her pieces of me I could never get back? What was going to happen when she got tired of waiting around for me to change my mind about getting married or having a family and left me for someone who wanted the same things she did? It was bound to happen sooner or later. Why was I setting myself up for heartbreak, when I knew better than anyone that wishes don’t come true?
“Hey. You okay?”
I turned to see Emme standing in the doorway. “I don’t know.”
She nodded and entered the room, tucking her hands in the pockets of her jeans. “That was kind of rough.”
“Yeah.”
Emme looked around the room. “Was this yours?”
“Once upon a time. But the walls were dark blue back then.”
She smiled. “Like a bat cave.”
“Yeah, I guess.”
Her smile faded as she walked toward me, her eyes were full of concern. She wrapped her arms around my waist and laid her cheek against my arm. “I’m sorry, Nate. I don’t know what to say.”
“This isn’t your fault.” None of this was her fault, yet I kept wanting to apologize to her. Was it because I knew she was going to end up being hurt?
“Your mother is down there breathing into a paper bag.”
“Jesus. Of course she is.”
“What do you want to do?”
Get the fuck out of here. Turn back the clock. Get my life back on track. I took a breath. “Try again, I guess. Give it another hour or so. Is that okay with you?”
She kissed my shoulder. “Of course it is.”
Before we went back downstairs, I went into Adam’s room down the hall. It too had been repainted, from sky-blue to deep maroon. At some point, it had been converted into an office for my father and held a large desk, some bookshelves, and a leather chair in one corner. It smelled faintly of stale cigar smoke. I turned to Emme, waiting for me in the hallway. “Can I ask you to take Paisley downstairs? I need a minute to look for something.”
“Sure.” She reached for Paisley, smiling brightly at her. “I bet you’re hungry, peanut. Want a snack?”
“Good idea,” I told her. “Want to make her a bottle?”
She nodded and took the diaper bag from me too. “No problem. Maybe I can even recruit Grandma to help me.”
After she left, I went over to the closet and opened the door. It held some suits of my father’s zipped up in garment bags, a few dresses of my mother’s from the days when they enjoyed an active social life, and tons of wrapping paper, ribbon, and bows in stacked plastic containers. No wonder my mother’s gifts to me always smelled like mothballs. On the top shelf, I saw the box I was looking for. It was labeled BOYS.
I took it down and brought it over to the desk. A layer of dust covered the top, and I sent motes swirling when I lifted it off. Inside were relics from my childhood—I’d looked through this box many times and knew its contents. Our first pairs of shoes, bronzed, which we’d always thought was so weird but my mother claimed was a tradition in her family. Little velvet bags containing our baby teeth. Hats and gloves that had been knitted for us by relatives we’d never met. Childish drawings in crayon. School pictures. Adam’s stuffed bear. My Batman cape. And there toward the bottom was the item I wanted—his joke book. I took it out and thumbed through it. Its pages were yellowed and it smelled musty, like a basement. Inside the front cover, he’d printed his name in blue ink. Adam Pearson. Beneath that, he’d written a note:
KEEP OUT! THIS MEANS YOU. This book is my personl proprty and the only other person alowd to read it is my brothr Nate Pearson.
Despite the tightness in my chest, I smiled. Not once had I ever wanted to read his stupid joke book. But it meant something to me now that he would have let me. I should have been nicer. I should have laughed more. I should have appreciated being his big brother.
I’d been planning to ask my mother if I could have the book, but holding it in my hands only made the pain in my heart worse. Setting it back in the box, I replaced the top and put it back on the shelf in the closet and shut the door. Fucking feelings. You had to bury them, or they’d suffocate you.
I’d forgotten that.
Downstairs, the scene in the living room surprised me. My mother sat on the couch holding Paisley while Emme, sitting right beside her, held the bottle as Paisley drank. Both of them looked up when I came into the room.
“I hope it’s okay that I’m holding her,” my mother said nervously, her eyes dropping back to her granddaughter’s face. “I scrubbed my hands really well, and I’m not touching the bottle at all. So I don’t think the germs will endanger her.”
“It’s fine.”
I made eye contact with Emme. She smiled at me, her eyes shining, a beautiful, calming presence in this house full of ghosts, and my heart about exploded in my chest. My legs nearly gave out. My breath stopped.
Because I loved her. I loved her. For being here with me, for understanding me, for making me feel like I wasn’t alone.
Except I would end up alone, wouldn’t I? When she was gone, when she’d given up on me, when she’d realized I couldn’t give her everything she wanted and deserved.
You couldn’t control everything in life, maybe not even your feelings, but you could control your actions. I had to walk away, or I had to push her away. The thought of doing either one made me sick to my stomach, but I told myself to be a fucking man and get over it. Harden my heart. Take control.
Make the choice.
Seventeen
Emme
“So I know the beginning was a little difficult, but overall that went okay, don’t you think?” I asked hopefully as we drove away from the house.
“I guess.” He glanced in the rearview mirror at his daughter, who was sleeping peacefully, but even that didn’t get rid of the worry lines creasing his forehead.
“At least your mom held her for a little while.”
“Yeah.”
“And she said maybe she would drive down in a couple weeks for another visit.”
“I heard her.” His tone said, but I don’t believe her.
“And wasn’t Paisley good today? I wonder if she’s saving it all up for a meltdown tonight.”
Nate frowned. “Probably.”
“Well, no worries. I’ll be there to help you. Maybe we can get takeout or something. Have a cocktail and watch a movie, just like the old days.” I wiggled happily in my seat. “It’s so nice to have a Saturday night off.”
Nate didn’t say anything.
“Hello? Does that sound like a plan?”
“What? Sure, whatever you want to do is fine with me.”
Clearly, he was too distracted to look forward to an evening together, and maybe he needed time to process the visit home. It was obvious to me that all the memories there, both good and bad, affected him deeply, as did his mother’s anxiety. If I’d thought he would talk to me about it, I would’ve asked him to. But even though he’d been more open with me over the last week—and especially last night—I didn’t get the feeling he was in the mood for conversation right now. Seemed like he wanted to brood for a bit.
I didn’t blame him for being upset. Painful memories aside, no parent wants to hear a list of all the harmful genetic conditions their child might be predisposed to, and it had to be even worse for Nate because of his brother. I’d seen the look on his face as his mother was talking, and at the word cancer, he’d gone completely white. He’d seemed a little better upstairs, but still on edge. Quiet and tense the rest of the afternoon.
