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“Might be worth tarping the flower bed. But if you’re feeling—”
Cornell straightened. “Tarp?”
“Whatever you find at a hardware store. Or you could use something you have on hand, even an old sheet,” Peter said. “Just nail it down over whatever might be sprouting. Save your surprise.”
It might have felt like there was perpetual night. Cornell stood. But maybe I can still save spring.
* * *
One short nap and hours later, Cornell crumbled the extra tarp and gathered the loose nails before moving the covered barbecue in front of the flower bed. He jumped when the screen door to the porch opened.
“What are you doing out here? It’s cold.” Ali folded her arms across her chest, still in his sweatshirt.
Cornell eyed the flower bed to his right. It was supposed to be a surprise. He wanted to tell Ali that it was nothing, that he was getting a ball Mowgli had lost in the bushes or covering the grill. He didn’t want something special to be associated with this day, something else between the two of them tied to hurt and bottomless heartache.
But, as he thought before, things couldn’t get much worse. He took in Ali’s swollen, tired face, her sad eyes, messy hair, and the gentle downturn of her mouth. There was distance between them, so much in their small home.
Everything is tied to him these days. What difference does this make?
“I was worried the flowers I planted for you might freeze. The temperature is going to drop tonight, and they started to sprout,” he said, avoiding Ali’s gaze as he stepped inside to the sink to wash his hands. “My dad said it can’t hurt to cover them. I don’t know shit about gardening.”
Ali looked to the door before moving to open it, flipping the patio light on, and stepping outside.
Cornell didn’t watch her through the window. Instead, he focused on the scalding hot water hitting his hands as he rinsed the soap off. He dried them, then went to get Mowgli’s water dish to refill it.
“Cornell,” Ali said, closing the door behind her. He looked up and met her eyes. “Can we talk?” He wished the bittersweet sadness in her voice was anything but.
Talking would either mean more apologies from him—which Ali didn’t want—or more tears, which he wasn’t sure either of them had left.
I just can’t. I can’t stand you looking at me and knowing I failed you like that. Before, during, after. You needed me for every part.
“Can we talk tomorrow?” he asked. “I’m beyond beat.” It had been a battle to keep his eyelids open all afternoon, and the only reason he hadn’t collapsed into bed yet was that he wanted to make sure Ali got home safe.
Ali nodded, and the disappointment that flashed across her face, which she pathetically tried to hide, tore at him so hard he couldn’t stop himself from reaching out to reassure her.
“I love you.” The tortured tone of his own voice stunned Cornell as he cupped her cheek. “I love you so damn much.”
Squeezing her eyes shut, Ali nodded again, pressing her face into his hand. “I love you too,” she squeaked.
Hold her, you fucking idiot. You couldn’t hold her then, you couldn’t save her then, but you can right now,he scolded himself. But the depths of guilt and shame drowning him were bottomless. I don’t want to drag her deeper down.
Cornell dropped his hand and walked down the hall to the guest bedroom, wondering how it was fair that those words—what should be an eternal echo of reassurance between them—had to keep sounding different too.
* * *
Waking with a heavy head and dry mouth, it took Cornell a minute to realize where he was—in the guest bedroom. The clock on the nightstand said it was only one-thirty, but Cornell could have sworn he slept until morning.
In the kitchen, he drank two glasses of water quickly, his body and foggy mind trying to crawl out of the haze through hydration. Cornell paused in front of their bedroom, where Ali left the door ajar. He peeked in, the light in the hallway giving him enough glow to see her and Mowgli—who had taken Cornell’s empty side of the bed as an invitation—sleeping peacefully.
Cornell leaned his head against the door and just watched her for a moment. The overwhelming feeling of protectiveness was still relatively new. He had never been the safeguarding type—only with his sister Lucy and even then, it was more of a way to tease her than anything. But he had never been that guy with a girl.
Because there’s never been anyone like Ali.He watched her sniffle in her sleep. I want to protect you. I want to fix everything for you, but how can I? Ali shifted, and he saw her gripping her arm tightly, some sort of instinctual self-preservation. How can I fix something I can’t see when it’s all you see, all you feel? Please tell me how, he silently begged, shaking his head and returning to the other room where he tossed and turned for another hour. His mind, body, and heart were all eager for the new day to begin—for tomorrowwhen they were less in the thick of it all, when at the very least, they could pretend better.
The creak of the door and the light hitting the wall in front of him let Cornell know that Ali was feeling the same way. But he didn’t move, didn’t turn as she climbed into bed and lay down beside him.
“Are you awake?”
Cornell nodded, still facing away. “Did you have a bad dream?”
