“Well, maybe you’ll get that courage one day.” His smile is soft. “Or maybe you already have it, and you just don’t know it yet…”
53
Holden
It’s dead air on the phone call between Mia and me because neither of us knows what to say. She’d dropped me off a half hour ago, and in that time, I’ve set up the Airfort that Benny had lent me and sat inside, my heart heavy and my stomach turning, twisting to the point of physical pain.
“I wish I knew what to say,” Mia says.
“Me too.”
“Holden! What is this?” Jamie calls out. The fan keeping the fort up must have drowned out the sound of the door opening and closing, and I didn’t even hear her come in.
“I have to go,” I tell Mia and hang up just as Jamie pulls up the fabric around me, making the fort collapse.
She slips inside, and seconds later, the igloo fort is back to its intended shape. She sits cross-legged in front of me, her smile wide as her eyes scan the small space. I say, “I told Benny about our blanket forts, and he had this. He wanted you to come over so he could show you, but…” But she can’t be there, and he doesn’t understand that. “Anyway, he said I could bring it home, so… here it is.”
Jamie’s smile falters as she meets my eyes. “How long are they in town for?”
“A couple more days…” I mumble, gaze lowered, picking at the floorboards. I didn’t have time to collect my emotions before she got home, and I don’t want her to see me like this.
But she sees it anyway. “What’s wrong?”
“Nothing. I love you,” I rush out, reaching over to shift her hair from her face. But the fan is blowing, and I can’t control it, and right now, I feel like I can’t control anything.
She gently nudges my hands away and keeps her eyes on mine as she ties her hair up in a loose bun. “Holden, what’s going on?”
“Nothing,” I lie, and then I look at her. Really look at her. And I have absolutely no doubt that she’s it for me. She’s my future. My everything. For the rest of my life. “Can you come here?” I beg, tugging on her hand. I guide her onto my lap, her legs bent on either side of me, and then I just… hold her. For minutes, I take the strength that she shows daily, and I try to capture it. Try to use it for myself.
“Baby…” Jamie coos, her hands on the back of my head, fingers lacing, playing with my hair there. “What’s wrong?”
I didn’t want to do this. I didn’t want to add pressure to her pain, but I don’t know how else to deal with it. I pull back, tears caught in my lashes, and Jamie… Jamie’s shoulders rise, the fear in her eyes palpable. “I spoke to Joseph today… about everything.” I swallow. Hard. And search her eyes. “My mom didn’t know that he’d brought the check that day. That was all on him. He explained that, for a long time, he felt as though money was all he could really offer, so that’s what he did. He apologized for his part in it…”
Jamie watches me, her jaw set.
“Anyway, he wanted me to pass that on to you, and you can do with it what you want, but he just wanted you to know…”
Her lips part, and she starts to speak. Stops herself. Her throat moves with her swallow as her touch on me loosens. “What are you hiding from me?”
My shoulders drop, my head falling forward. I can’t look at her when I say, “My mom isn’t doing too well, Jamie.”
Her gasp is soft, quiet. “Is she sick?”
“Not physically,” I choke out, and I look up to see Jamie nodding, as if she understands. “I could tell the moment I saw her today. She’s lost weight and… and Joseph said she hasn’t been eating properly, and she just spends her days in bed crying. Baby, she’s so scared she’s losing me, she can’t even—”
“She’s not losing you. And you know that’s not what I wanted.”
“But that’s how she feels, and I have to understand that. I have to validate that.” I take a breath, try to calm the thoughts racing through my mind. “They didn’t even return to their honeymoon, she was so stressed out, and this is the first time they’ve come back here because she was so afraid to upset us, and Joseph—he said he got her to speak to someone… like a psychiatrist, or something, and now she’s on these meds because they diagnosed her with depression, and these meds… they’re fucking with her head, and I don’t—” A knot lodges in my throat, making it impossible to speak, and Jamie’s right there, holding me the way I’ve held her so many times before. “She’s my mom, Jamie,” I croak, pulling away. “And your mom—”
“Don’t,” she cuts in, shaking her head in warning. “Don’t do that, Holden. Don’t hurt me because you’re hurting. I know who my mother was—”
“That’s not…” That’s exactly what I was going to do. I lean forward, press a kiss to her forehead. “I promise, this has nothing to do with you. I just… I need to go.”
“Go where?”
I gently lift her off my lap. “A walk. I need to clear my fucking head.”
54
Jamie
For the past few years, I’ve lived my life somewhat on the edge. I’ve dared to do things that most people would find terrifying. I’ve jumped off fifty-foot cliffs in dark ocean water and hiked overnight in areas where night falls so black you can’t see a foot in front of your face. I did all this with the knowledge that no outcome could be more terrifying than walking into Beaker’s house that day.
But, the difference between entering Beaker’s house and sending a simple text message is that I didn’t know what to expect when I walked in.
I do now. Because I’m in control of it. I have to be.
The reply to my message comes only seconds later, and for minutes, I just stare at it. Waiting. Wanting more. Nothing comes.
I get in the shower, only somewhat expecting Holden to return in the meantime, so I’m not surprised when the house is empty when I get out. And then… I get to work.
And I revert back to the old me.
I rid my world of impurities and my body of shame. I dust every piece of furniture, wipe down every surface, clean every inch of flooring, and pick out the clothes I change into. I iron out every crease, polish every button.
It’s been a while since I’ve worn these clothes. Since I’ve felt the need to show perfection. In a daze, I slip on the pleated skirt and blindingly white blouse, buttons done all the way up. Then I check myself in the full-length mirror—the one with the frame Benny and I spent hours working on, hot-gluing rocks we found down at the creek.
I hate the person in my reflection. The one who ran from difficult situations. The one who feared judgement.
I note the time and move to the kitchen to start on dinner, timing everything to the minute, if not second.
I’ve just put the chicken in the oven when the door bursts open and Holden appears. He’s been gone for hours, but he doesn’t even look my direction when he mumbles, “I’m going to shower real quick.”