By my mom…
And Jamie had just left me.
“I need to leave, Holden,” Jamie cries, and I answer with the truth I’d known since I walked through the door.
“I know.” I wrap my arms around her neck, hold her face to my chest, and even though I have no idea what the fuck is happening, Mia’s words play loudly in my head: please be gentle with her, Holden.
I wipe away my liquid heartache while I stroke her hair, and then pull back so I can see into her eyes. Holding her face in my hands, I say, “I’m not letting you go now.” I sniff back the pain of my words. “You’re far too emotional, and I don’t want you driving into a ditch again. But I promise you, tomorrow you can go, and I won’t stop you. Okay?”
Jamie nods, a single sob escaping her.
“You drew that compass over my heart for a reason, Jamie. So, whenever you’re ready, you come back to me, okay?”
42
Jamie
The Brothers Grimm version of Snow White is far different from the Disney version. For example, in the Disney version, the queen asks the Huntsman to kill Snow White and return with her heart. In the original, she asked for Snow White’s lungs and liver, to which she then boils and devours.
Dark, right?
The Grimm’s tale doesn’t have a charming prince who kisses Snow White, thus saving her life. It does, however, have a creepy prince who thinks that Snow White’s body is beautiful, and he offers to take her dead body away in the glass coffin. One of his servants drops the coffin, dislodging the poison apple from her throat, bringing her back to life. What the prince planned on doing with her dead body… is… hmm?
The significant difference I get stuck on between the two stories is the number of tries it takes the queen to make Snow White disappear. In the Grimm’s version, it takes three.
Disney only had one attempt, and the evil queen succeeded.
I never really pictured my life as a Disney princess, but here I am…
The space beside me in the bed is empty, and Holden has gone. It took a while for my cries to settle and my tears to dry, and for hours after, he lay next to me, silently holding me until he thought I was asleep.
Obviously, I wasn’t.
How could I be?
He took the RV. I know because I could recognize the sound of it starting up from a mile away. I don’t know what he plans to do with it… maybe push it off a cliff?
It’s fine either way. I can fly back to Gina and stay with her. Maybe load up on enough therapy to last the next five years.
For the following hour, I toss and turn, and Holden doesn’t return. Curious, I finally get out of bed and walk outside. As I suspected, his and Mia’s cars are here, and the RV is gone. Barefoot, I walk back into the house and grab my phone, noting his car keys on the hook. I’d brought them in with me when I’d driven here from Mia’s because, unlike him, I don’t trust anyone enough to leave them in the car. I don’t bother slipping on my shoes as I take the keys and then make my way outside.
It’s so dark out, so still.
I check the time. It’s almost midnight. Wherever Holden is, he couldn’t have gone far. This is his home. His pride. I get in the truck, adjust the seats and mirrors, and bring the engine to life. I’d only driven it once before, and as intimidatingly big as it is, I used to drive around in a house on wheels, so…
I don’t have to go far to get to my first stop, and when I see the lights on in the barn, I pull into the driveway and park. I can’t see my RV, but that doesn’t mean that Holden isn’t here.
I step out, the cool concrete hitting my bare feet as I walk toward the barn, then push the door open a crack. “Lighting Crashes” by Live plays through the air, and confused, I push the door open wider, forcing it to creak under the movement.
With a broom in his hand, Big H turns at the sound, his eyes widening when he sees me. “Ah, shit,” he grunts. “What are you doing here? It was supposed to be a surprise!”
I step inside, my heart stopping at the thought of another unwanted surprise. I look around, noting the changes since I was in here only a few hours ago. The floor is clean, and boxes are piled high next to the pottery wheel.
“Well, you’re here now,” Big H says, dropping the broom and letting it fall to the floor with a thwack. “Look at this,” he says, and he’s grinning, bouncing with excitement. He flicks the switch on the pottery wheel, and it turns. He chuckles, then pats the boxes beside it. “We got you some clay too.”
My lips part, my stomach dipping, swirling.
Big H adds, “Nanny Eastwood helped me pick out all the supplies.” He grabs a clay pot filled with paintbrushes from the shelf. “I know you don’t draw anymore, but I wasn’t sure if you’d be interested in painting.” He points to a row of tubs on the shelf—paints in different colors. “If you don’t like the colors, we can pick out what works for you.”
I finally find the courage to look up at him, my breaths unsteady. “For… me?”
He nods, smiling wide, utterly unaware of the differing emotions fighting in my mind. My heart. “Well, you seemed so interested in it when you were here last. I thought it might be something you’d like to do.”
I nod, speechless, and run a finger over the spinning wheel.
“And look here,” he says, moving to a desk in the corner I hadn’t realized was there. He knocks on the wood top. “It’s Holden’s old one from when he homeschooled, but I figure it will do for now… so you can work in here with us, and you don’t have to be stuck in the stuffy office all day.”
“I—” I don’t even know what to say, how to act.
“You hate it,” he deadpans, and I shake my head, my eyes and throat burning with the need to cry.
“That’s okay.” He rushes over to me as he pulls out his phone. “It’s not the best of desks, but Mags and I saw this on that Pinterboard thing she’s always going on about.” He taps at his phone, swipes. “Here it is,” he says, showing me his phone. I’m grateful for our height difference, so he can’t see my face, can’t see how hard I’m trying to keep it together. “It’s real flowers in that resin stuff. You can pick out the flowers you want, and I can build a box for you to pour in and make a desktop, and I was thinking… maybe we go see Peg-leg Jimmy in his studio and ask him to make some nice legs for it, I think—”
I hug him. Hard and tight. And he returns the embrace, his massive arms wrapping around me, enveloping me. And finally, finally, I cry.
I sob into his shirt, my shoulders shaking, and he keeps his hold on me, stroking my hair, my back. And it only makes me cry some more.
Not once does he ask why or question what’s wrong.
He just holds me back. “Whatever it is, Jamie, I promise you, it’s okay.”
I break down at his words, completely losing it in the arms of a man who unknowingly just cracked my heart open, letting all the pieces of me fall to his feet.
“You’re going to be okay,” he tells me, and I realize now how he could break me so easily…
Because I feel like I’m that little girl again, standing alone watching my world crumble around me, and all I wanted…