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I’ve seen that one too. With his father and brother. And with him paying my rent for an entire year…
“The bad? I can be self-centered.”
I nod, impressed. It’s easier to see the bad in ourselves, but it’s not always easy to speak about it.
“And sheltered…which we already covered.” The last part comes out with a chuckle. “And I can ignore problems to the point they grow and take on a life of their own.”
I can relate.
“And the ugly?”
He thinks about it for a hard minute. “I don’t think I have an ugly anymore.”
I tsk. “One could consider that an ugly.”
He gives me a confused look.
I bump into him, and our skin sticks together from the sweat. “That you think you don’t have an ugly.”
He nods his agreement. “My ugly is that I don’t think I have an ugly.”
This time, we both laugh, and our attention draws back to the duck. He’s making circles now, eyeing us. Hoping we’ll eventually throw him some bread.
Jake’s voice sobers again. Says to no one in particular, “It’s like I’ve been asleep this whole time. This whole damn time, and I’m just now waking again.” He looks to me with that same urgency as before. “It’s like that boy on the rock in the forest got lost somehow, and I’m learning how to rescue him.”
That hits me deep in my gut. I know what he means. That innocent being, before the wreck, before the lies and the hiding and the numbing, got lost in the fray of pain and corruption. Because a part of me died that day too when I found my brother on the floor. The innocent part of me. It’s irrevocably altered my being and I’ll spend the rest of my life overcoming it and all the baggage it loaded me with.
These things are also why I once assumed Jake and I could never fit. We were too damaged. Our demons too similar.
But now that we’re healing…
I don’t allow the thought to settle. It’s too soon. It’s too soon to even explore that.
We’ve barely made amends.
“Speaking of the rock,” he says. “Would you want to visit it with me later?”
Later? “Like...another day?”
“Like after dinner. My dad did invite you.”
“He’s excited about the brisket, and I wouldn’t mind seeing Buttercup again.”
And maybe, just maybe, I’ll feel ready to tell him about the miscarriage by then. The rock is a safe place, after all. The place where deep and hidden things can be set free. And if not? If I’m not ready, we can talk about whatever else we want. I still have so many questions about how things went down.
The thought of riding horses makes his eyes swim with a memory. Probably when we rode through the trees together. He comes back to me. “I have missed you, Scarlett.”
“I’ve missed you too,” I say without thinking. I feel like I just showed him all my cards.
Transparent, remember? It’s okay to be transparent.
It’s healthy.
He responds with a genuine smile, but it quickly falls. And his eyes part with mine. Looks back at the duck. “And I’m so sorry about everything. About the way things happened. It’s haunted me ever since the day you drove away in my car.”
My stomach jumps at the memory of me driving away and sobbing. Of me feeling betrayed by him. Being scared for my job and my life.
My lips part to say something. It feels the natural thing to do, but nothing comes out. I’m not even sure what I should say. Thank you?
