Then, just as abruptly as it had begun, it stopped. Luke pulled away, leaving my lips cold. I stumbled back a bit as he released me, feeling dizzy and trying to regain my balance.
“I’m sorry. I shouldn’t have...” He ran his hand through his hair and sighed heavily. “This is my mistake, okay? I just—”
“I love you.” The words were out before I could stop them, and I was so weakened from the emotional battering I’d been withstanding all day that I had no defenses left, which was okay, as they were useless little bastards anyway. I looked up and waited until he allowed his eyes to meet mine before I spoke again, and when that happened, I plowed forward with every last bit of courage I had left.
“I love you, Luke. There has never been a moment in my life when I didn’t love you. Even when I left. Even when I was gone.”
“Eejie...” His voice was rough and shaken, and if I had any pity in me, I would have stopped there, but I was on a speeding train, and there was no stopping it.
I grabbed for his hand. “I left because I was stupid and scared and weak. I would give anything, Luke, anything, if I could just go back and do it differently. I need you to know that. I’m so sorry.”
The silence was long and unbearable. His hand was limp in mine, and finally, I released it. Even in the dark, I could see how stiff his stance was, as if he were bracing himself against a wind that threatened to knock him down. My head became fuzzy from the intensity of the emotions running through my system, and I ran out of steam to keep talking. I simply stared at the ground, and some minutes had passed before my brain registered that Luke had left me there, alone on the dirt path in the woods.
It’s at this point in the story that I must confess, I have no idea how to keep a man. I know how to get one; I’m very good at that. But keeping one is still a bit of a mystery.
—from Twinkie and Me: The Real Life Confessions of Lilly Lorraine
Seventeen
“Where’s Luke?” I asked when I found my mother holding court with a bunch of girls from the ladies’ auxiliary.
“Honey,” she said, looking surprised. “I don’t know. I think I saw him go into the house. Are you okay?”
“No,” I said, then turned and ran up the deck into the house. People were milling about inside, and one or two might have said my name, but I ignored them, rushing through them, looking over their heads for the familiar messy mop I knew and loved. I cut through the house to the foyer by the front door, where I found Luke with one hand on the door handle, giving a large woman in an orange caftan directions to the bathroom. The woman left and I stepped out into the foyer. Luke saw me, closed his eyes and cursed under his breath.
“Go back to the party, Eejie.”
“No.” I held his eye and stepped closer in defiance.
He shook his head and shut the door. “See, it’s crazy, because I can hear myself saying the words and yet, it’s almost like you don’t understand them.”
“I’m being a pain in the ass, I know it, but Luke, there isn’t time for me to be polite. I’m leaving on Monday.”
His eyes widened, and then he let out an angry huff. “Of course. Of course you are.”
“Well... what did you think? That I was going to just live here? Forever? With my mother?”
He ran his hand over his face. “I didn’t think about it. I try not to think about you, Eejie, as much as humanly possible. Makes life easier.”
“I know I screwed up. I threw everything away, and even treating me like this, you’re giving me better than I’ve earned, but I have to tell you how sorry I am, and that I still love you.”
“Why? Why do you have to tell me that? Do you know what that does for me? Nothing. It’s all about you and relieving your conscience or whatever. Well, I’m not here to make you feel better about it, Eejie. I don’t owe you that.”
“Fine. You owe me nothing. Big deal. What I deserve, what you owe me... that’s all just about being polite. Screw polite. I’m too tired. This may not be fair, but it’s the truth, and you have to face it. I love you. I never stopped. You need to know that.”
He went quiet, kept his eyes on the floor for a while, then finally shot me a look. “Fine. Now I know. What do you expect me to say?”
“I don’t know,” I said, giving the anger bubbling within me full reign whether I could justify it or not. “Maybe you could recognize how hard it is for me to say this to you. Maybe you could... I don’t know. Smile. Remove the pole from up your ass. A small gesture, sure, but it’d be a start.”
He advanced on me, his frame towering angrily over me as his words scratched past me. “So, what? You come back after six years and tell me you still love me and we’re supposed to... what? Pick up where we left off?”
I crossed my arms over my chest and didn’t step back, keeping my face in his. “Did I say that? No. But, hell, Luke, I don’t know. I don’t know how to do this, but I can’t leave without at least letting you know that one word from you would keep me here.”
He nodded, tucked his hands in his pockets and stared at the floor again. I wondered if it had some kind of hidden cheat sheet for this kind of thing, but when I glanced down, it was just a floor.
“I’m sorry, Eejie,” he said finally. “I don’t know how I’m supposed to respond to all this.”
I took a deep breath. I was in for the penny, might as well go for the pound. “Maybe admit you still love me, too?”
He raised his head and I could tell by the look in his eyes that I had said the exact, perfectly wrong thing.
“Admit that I love you?” he spat, his eyes lit with fury. “Love isn’t the issue. Do I love you?” He threw his hands up. “Hell. Probably. I’m probably that stupid, sure. But I’m not stupid enough to jump back into this with you. It took me two years to recover from you leaving like that. Two years, Eejie. I was a fucking wreck. And now, I’m on my feet and I’m fine—”
I snorted. I couldn’t help myself. And since I’d already said the exact, perfectly wrong thing, I figured, what did I have to lose? Nothing that wasn’t already out of my reach, anyway.
He stared at me, eyes narrowed, thoroughly pissed. “What did you say?”
“I said, ‘snort.’ You are not fine. You are not within shouting distance of fine. If fine were water, you’d be the Sahara. If fine were sensitivity, you’d be Simon Cowell. If fine were—”
“Get to your point, Eejie.”
“My point?” I held up my fingers and started ticking. “You take business meetings on Sunday mornings. You wear suits. All the time. Not just for special occasions.”
“It’s been six years, Eejie. Enough time for at least one of us to grow up.”
I raised my hands up higher and continued ticking off my fingers. “You comb your hair down. Your date for your father’s wedding was an octogenarian. You never laugh. Hell, it’s like pulling teeth just to get you to smile. When was the last time you cracked a joke, Luke?”
His eyes flashed with anger. “Are you seriously suggesting I tell you a joke right now?”
“Not me, necessarily, no. But, someone, yeah. Sometime. I mean, I assume you didn’t have a humorectomy while I was gone. So where the hell are you, Luke? You used to be fun, you used to smile, now you’re all suits and meetings and Oh-I’ve-got-a-date-named-Claire—”
“Hey, you jumped to that conclusion all on your own,” he said. “I didn’t lie about anything.”
“But you didn’t rush to clear it up, did you? You liked that it bugged me.”
“Yeah. Right,” he said, the sarcasm thick in his voice. “Because everything in my world revolves around you? Not anymore.”
I crossed my arms over my chest. “Great. So if you’re so fine, prove it. Tell me a joke.”
He stared at me for a long moment, then huffed in anger. I raised an expectant eyebrow. He just stared back.
“Here, I’ll even get you started,” I said. “Two men walk into a bar—”
“Fuck you, Eejie,” he muttered, then turned on
his heel and slammed the front door so hard I felt it in my teeth. I stared at the door for a while, feeling what strength I had left seep out of me through my toes. It was a perfectly wrenching end to a perfectly wrenching day, and the idea of ever moving from that spot was too much to even contemplate.
“Well, you’re working some miracles today.”
I looked behind me, where my mother stood in the hallway. I didn’t know how long she’d been standing there, but judging by the look on her face, it had been long enough.
“Yeah,” I huffed. “I’m nothing if not a little ray of sunshine.”
“I’m serious,” she said, walking up behind me. “I haven’t heard Luke say an angry word in five years, and he just cursed at you, sweetheart. This is wonderful.”
“No,” I said, staring at the doorway. “It’s not. He’s so angry, and he has every right. I should stop trying, save us both the pain. He’s never going to forgive me.”
My mother’s hand settled on my shoulder, and she leaned her head against mine.
“Never say never, sweetheart,” she said. “The only way to fail is by quitting.”
I had stopped taking my mother’s advice somewhere around the time that she told me that strong women only need to eat once a day. I was eight. For most of my life, ignoring my mother has been a wise choice. But with New Lilly, the slate was clean, so when she grabbed my keys off the front hall table and handed them to me, I decided to give Mother-knows-best another shot.
I arrived at Luke’s house about twenty minutes after he’d left the reception, then spent another ten minutes sitting outside in my truck, wishing I’d changed out of my wedding finery. It’s hard to fight for the man you love in satin. But, finally, I accepted going back was impossible, so I had no choice but to move forward. I got out of the truck, forced myself step by step to make it to Luke’s doorstep, and pounded it relentlessly until it opened, pausing only once to glance behind me and give a quick wave to Mrs. Pope.
When the door opened, I had to do a double-take. Maybe I couldn’t turn back time, but Luke sure could. He was wearing one of his old flannel shirts, a solid burgundy one I remembered him wearing a lot back when we were still together. Underneath, he was wearing a white Rolling Stones t-shirt and an old pair of jeans. His hair was Old Luke messy, and in his hand, he had a half-empty beer. I couldn’t help it; I laughed.
“Wow,” I said, when I was able to get command of my voice. “Dig you.”
His face was hard, still angry. “What do you want, Eejie?”
“I want to talk.”
“We’ve talked.” His face softened a bit and he shook his head. “I don’t want to fight.”
“Then don’t,” I said. “Please, just let me in. I need to talk to you.”
“About what? About what happened six years ago? We can’t talk that away, Eejie. It’s done. We’re done.” He sighed. “Just... go home.”
I didn’t know whether he meant home with Mom and Danny, or home back to my Airstream in Colorado, but before I could ask, he’d gently shut the door in my face.
I stood there for about five minutes, staring at the front door that should have been mine, knowing that behind it was the man who had been meant for me. I had thrown so much away, though I’d never known exactly how much until that moment, and it filled me with such an all-consuming fury that I didn’t even care that I’d only gotten what I deserved.
I reached for the door handle, opened the door and stepped inside. The only light was coming from the stairway, so I started up that way.
“Luke!” I called. “Luke!”
I got up to the second story landing and one of the doors opened. Luke stood in it, staring at me.
“Like a damn dog with a bone,” he muttered.
“I’m not giving up,” I said. “I can’t.”
“Sure you can, Eejie,” he said. “All it takes is for things to get hard. I’ll start working too much, or we’ll have a baby that cries too much or doesn’t like you enough or reminds you of your mother. Whatever. Something will spook you and you’ll run. So let’s just head that off at the pass now. Go home.”
He turned and went into his bedroom. I followed.
“I can’t tell you that it won’t happen,” I said,” because you won’t believe me. I know that, and I understand. But if you’d just give me a chance—”
He turned on me. “A chance to do what? To finish me off this time? Do you have any idea how hard...?”
He trailed off. I shook my head.
“I’m sorry,” I said.
“Sorry? Jesus, Eejie. I slept on a fucking couch for two years, just in case you came back and lost your nerve before you made it to the bedroom. I sat in that apartment for two years, waiting. Digs told me I was crazy, but I knew. I knew you were going to come back. I knew you couldn’t leave me. Maybe someone else, but not me. Not us.” He ran his hand over his hair and sighed. “It took me two years to get up and start my life again, and now that I’ve done that, you want me to just pick up with you like it never happened.”
“No,” I said. “Not like it never happened. Like it’ll never happen again.”
He stared at me for a long time, and I could see the fight leaving his face. His eyes filled and he swiped at them, then shook his head and said only, “Don’t.”
“I’m so sorry.” I tried to fight the tears, I didn’t want this to become about me, but I couldn’t help it. I was already emotionally overwrought, and seeing Luke in that much pain would have brought me to my knees on a good day. I took a step closer to him, reached up to touch his face. “I screwed up. I can’t go back and fix it. I know that. But I can’t leave you again, either.”
He wrapped his fingers around my wrist and pulled my hand away from his face, his eyes heavy-lidded as he looked down at me.
“I think you should go,” he said.
I stepped closer, and his grip loosened on my wrist. “I can’t.”
I snaked my hand up again, this time resting it on the back of his neck.
“I can’t,” I whispered.
His eyes met mine and we stared at each other for a long time. I could see myself in him, and could feel him in me. It’s one of those things that happens when you grow up with someone. I think it has something to do with how children are so vulnerable and malleable, that the souls of the people you love at a young age become part of yours. Luke and I had loved each other since the age of five, and standing so close together at that moment, I think we both knew we’d never love anyone else the same way. He took me into his arms and rested his forehead against mine, and we strengthened each other and weakened each other at the same time.
“Goddamnit,” he whispered, then leaned in and kissed me, his arms grasping at me like I might disappear if he didn’t hold on tight. We came together so hard our teeth clicked, but neither of us cared. We tore at each other in desperation, buttons and zippers becoming objects of such damning frustration that we ended up cursing and biting and scratching our way to the bed. Everything was frenzied, like a movie played at high speed, and it hurt not to have his hands on me, so much that I whined when he paused to put on the condom. I don’t think I took a full breath again until he was inside me, and then things escalated so quickly that I couldn’t think or breathe or see. All I knew was that we were together again, and it was the first time in years that I’d felt anything even approaching peace.
We spooned for a while afterwards, his large frame covering me as a warm breeze came through the open window, until we were both ready to go again. The night passed in waves of sleep and sex. We didn’t say a word to each other, just pretended we were still who we’d been, all those years ago. It was nice pretending, although as I stroked the back of his hand as it rested flat on my belly, contemplating the inevitability of sunrise, I knew there would be a lot of shit to wade through, and only then if he let me. I knew that, for him, this could be just his way of getting the good-bye he’d never gotten the first time, and that was fair. He deserved that good-bye
, and if I was forced to leave him again, I’d need it, too.
I shifted in the bed and angled my head to look at him in the dim, pre-dawn glow. His eyes flickered a bit, then opened wide as though he was surprised the night hadn’t all been just another in the series of dreams I was pretty sure we’d both been having since the day I left. He reached up and touched my face, and I could see the conflict in his eyes, but I knew he’d never tell me the truth, which was that sex was one thing and forgiveness another. If I wanted to trap him, I knew all I had to do was curl up in his arms, say I loved him, and tell him how happy I was that we were back together, and that would be it. He would stay with me forever, even if it meant never being sure I’d be there when he got home at the end of the day. He would stay with me because he loved me, and because he was the kind of man who could never have sex with a woman who loved him and not treat it like a promise.
“Good morning,” I said quietly. “I’m gonna go now.”
He nodded, but his eyes were still conflicted. He wanted me to go, and he wanted me to stay, but I couldn’t do both. I shifted out of his arms and gathered my dress up off the floor. I slipped into it in silence, then turned to him.
“We shouldn’t drag this out,” I said, “or make it any more painful than it has to be. I’m going to leave for Colorado Springs on Monday, unless you ask me not to.”
He sat up, pulled my vacated pillow behind him and leaned against it. “So it’s on me?”
I smiled. “Sorry, babe. Can’t be helped. I know what I want.”
He sighed. “And what if I can’t give you an answer by Monday?”
I shrugged. “If you can’t give me an answer by Monday, I think that’s kind of an answer in itself, don’t you?”
I stood in the doorway, staring at him, loving him so much that all the muscles in my body hurt. Of course, that could have been the sex, too. I smiled lightly and tapped the doorjamb with my hand, then used it to pull myself away.
A Little Ray Of Sunshine Page 18
