Revelry

by Kandi Steiner

  And here I was in the same pair of leggings and sweatshirt I’d been wearing for three days straight, hair a mess on top of my head, not a stitch of makeup on.

  But I didn’t care what he thought.

  He was waiting for me to speak, but I had nothing to say. I didn’t have to ask how he’d found me—my mother was the obvious answer. I didn’t want to ask why he was here. The only thing I did want was to be able to close my eyes and not see him standing there when I opened them again.

  And that broke my heart.

  Because he was the man I loved for a decade, the man I shared a bed with, shared a life with, and now he seemed so foreign to me. He was everything I’d been and everything I wouldn’t be again, and I realized in that moment that the war between familiar and strange would never pronounce a winner when it came to my emotions and my ex-husband. Both were present, both were strong, and neither would forfeit.

  “I’m sorry I showed up unannounced,” he said, but he wasn’t sorry at all. If he was he wouldn’t have come at all. “I just... I wanted to see you. You haven’t answered any of my calls and I was worried.”

  I was so confused. Everything inside me screamed for me to stay silent, to be defensive, to shield my heart, and yet a tiny voice inside seemed to speak louder than the screams. It told me to relax, to be open, to be kind. Keith was broken, just like me, and I knew he’d probably tried to talk himself out of coming multiple times. But he was here, because he was hurting, and I couldn’t be mad at that.

  “It’s okay.”

  That was all I could offer, and it felt somewhat like a compromise. Keith’s face lit up with the faintest smile as his eyes searched mine. “You look happy, my baby bird. This place suits you.”

  The nickname that used to make me feel safe only made me want to cry now. I had no idea how to react to him, no idea what to say or how to stand. It was suddenly too hot and I picked at the neck of my sweater, peering up at the sun filtering in between the trees before I let my gaze land on him again.

  “Thank you.”

  He was being sweet.

  It hurt worse than when he was a monster.

  “So, what have you been up to?” he asked, as if casual conversation between us was normal. He nodded toward my sketchbook I’d abandoned on the bench. “I see you’re still working hard. Finding a lot of inspiration out here?”

  For a moment I just stared at him, stomach still so unsettled, but finally I forced a breath and told myself to relax. This was my ex-husband, my best friend of ten years. I could get through a conversation with him, even if I hadn’t expected to have to.

  “I’ve been doing a lot of things. Hiking, swimming, dancing in the kitchen.”

  Keith chuckled. “That’s a sight I remember well.”

  I tried to think of the last time I’d danced in our home, and I couldn’t recall a single time. But I didn’t even bother correcting him. There was no use fighting.

  “And, yes, I’ve been sketching, but nothing impressive has come of it. It’s just kind of hard right now...”

  My voice trailed off, because I’d already said too much. It wasn’t that I didn’t want him to know that I’d been suffering, too, but I felt it—the window he’d been staring at. I’d just opened it a little wider, and he was ready to climb inside.

  “I get that,” he said, rubbing his chin as his eyes fell to my feet. “I’ve been a complete mess. I miss you so much, Wren.”

  His voice choked a little on my name and I swallowed hard, fighting back my own emotions. He glanced up at me, asking me for something I couldn’t give, but I at least owed him the truth.

  “I miss you, too.”

  It was true, and he needed to hear it. Surprisingly, it made me feel better to say it, and a small fraction of the weight crushing my chest was lifted.

  “Nothing makes sense without you. I can barely eat, barely sleep. And yet I see you posting pictures online of you with your new friends out here, drinking beer and having picnics.”

  He was referring to the pig roast, and I remembered why I wanted to block him on social media. It felt weird to do, and I had wanted us to remain friends, but if I was being honest with myself I knew that would never happen. He saw what I’d posted as me “moving on” and being just fine.

  “I’ve loved every minute here,” I answered him truthfully. “The good times with the people I’ve met and also the hard times with just me alone. Yes, I’ve had fun. But I’ve also been miserable.” I swallowed. “This is just as hard on me as it is on you. Our entire lives are in upheaval. It would be weird for either of us to be fine.”

  He nodded. “So you think about me, too?”

  I debated how to answer that question, but I’d been truthful and that felt like the right way to be. So, I answered honestly with a shaky breath and a threat of tears tightening my throat. “Every day.”

  “Then come home.”

  And there it was.

  I closed my eyes, the tiniest shake of my head answer enough for both of us but he waited for words. “Don’t do this, Keith.”

  “Do what?” he asked, voice desperate as he stepped toward me. I backed up just an inch, just enough to let him know it wasn’t okay to come closer. “Look at us. I know you still love me. And you just said you miss me, that you think of me. So why are you putting us through this? We can work on our marriage. We can make this right.”

  “Our marriage ended seven months ago,” I reminded him. “And you know why I’m putting us through this.”

  “This doesn’t make any sense!” he yelled, eyes wide. “It’s all so stupid. It’s easy to fix. I’ll be more supportive, I know your business is important to you. And I’ll go to anger management. We can do counseling.”

  “We did counseling!”

  “Why won’t you just try?!”

  “I TRIED FOR YEARS!” I screamed, chest burning. I couldn’t control it anymore, I couldn’t hold it back. “I tried on the nights you went to bed without touching me. I tried on the days you told me my dreams were just hobbies. I tried when your eyes judged me in a room of wives you wished I was more like. For years I tried to reach you, tried to make it work, and it was never enough for you. No matter how I changed, no matter what I did to earn your love. It came with conditions, Keith, and ones that I’d never meet. I gave and gave and gave until I reached the point where if I gave any more, I’d lose myself.”

  Keith rolled his eyes. “Stop being so dramatic. You make it sound like I beat you. So we had issues, every couple does.”

  I pressed my fingers into my temples, because it was the same argument we’d had time after time after time. I could recite it before it’d even happened—what I would say, how he would respond, how I would feel when he left. But this time I chose not to engage, because the truth of the matter was that I didn’t have to anymore.

  “You should go, Keith.”

  The sun had faded behind the clouds again, casting Keith in a soft gray as his nose flared.

  “You are just the most selfish woman I have ever known,” he said, only this time it didn’t hurt. I’d heard it so many times from him, the words were like liquid bullets now.

  “Yep, sure am.”

  He scoffed, storming down the stairs and unlocking his car with a soft beep.

  “You know, no one is ever going to love you!” he screamed as he ripped the car door open, seething. “You’re going to end up all alone with your stupid fucking sketches and your stupid fucking clothes and you’ll look back on this moment and regret letting me go. I was the only one who would ever put up with that shit because I loved you, and you’re just throwing me away.”

  It doesn’t matter what he says. He’s just trying to hurt you. Be strong.

  I calmed myself on the outside, but still it stung, to hear what could very well be the truth spew from his mouth like acid. I forced a breath, standing straighter—taller—but inside I felt small.

  My lack of reaction pissed him off and I knew it, but there was no way he was baiti
ng me into a fight. He wasn’t worth it, not anymore.

  He huffed, ready to get into his car when Rev sauntered up the drive.

  My heart dropped.

  “Looks like you’re already working on becoming a cat lady, too. Fucking pathetic.” And before I could even register the possibility of it happening, Keith reared back, ready to kick Rev.

  I screamed his name, begging, pleading, my voice shrill and desperate in my ringing ears.

  Keith stopped just short of connecting and Rev skittered off at the commotion. My hands covered my mouth as Keith looked back up at me, the horror he wanted to see finally on my face, and it was just enough for him to be satisfied.

  He shook his head, batting his hands at me like I wasn’t worth his time, and then he slunk back into his car and threw it in reverse, leaving a grayish-brown cloud of dust in his wake.

  I just stood there, heart racing, watching the dust swirl where he’d pulled away. The clouds were heavier now, rain threatening to fall, and yet I couldn’t move from where I stood. Because as the dust settled, a figure appeared.

  Anderson.

  Neither of us said a word, but I flew down the stairs as he ran toward me, catching me in his arms as I wrapped mine around his neck. I kissed him without thinking, like he was the air I needed to survive, and he sighed with a mixture of torture and relief radiating off his breath.

  “Are you okay?” His voice was smooth, like an IV of comfort pumping straight into my veins.

  I nodded, still kissing, hands moving to the buttons in the middle of his shirt. He seemed hesitant at first, but when my tongue slid along his bottom lip he groaned, opening for me, letting me in. His hands ran the length of my ribs and he clutched me to him, mouth taking the lead now, and I fell to his dominance.

  But when I unclasped a button—just one—it was if I’d snapped him back to reality. We hadn’t talked, not for a week, and he grabbed my wrists, holding me still, pressing his forehead against mine as our breaths danced between us.

  “Stop,” he whispered, and my heart yielded his command, waiting for permission to beat again.

  I leaned into him, fingers reaching for his shirt to pull him closer, but he pushed my wrists out and away, holding them by my hips. Our foreheads were the only other place we touched, and I pulled back to see him, and then wished I hadn’t.

  “I’m trying to let you go,” he said, voice as pained as his bent face. He wouldn’t look at me, eyes nearly shut, and he let my wrists drop before stepping back. “And if you kiss me again, I’ll never be able to.”

  I winced, his name a whispered cry from my lips which only made his face twist with more pain. Not another word was said, because not another word was needed. I was hurting him because I was only thinking about me—about what I wanted, what I needed—and it wasn’t fair.

  So, I nodded, squeezing my eyes closed to hide my own pain, and I stayed there in the dark until the sound of his boots was lost to me. A single drop of rain hit my nose with a soft pat, and I blinked my eyes open once more.

  It was just like I’d wanted. Keith was gone.

  But so was Anderson.

  The rain fell harder as I jogged up the stairs, letting Rev inside and grabbing my sketchbook before it had the chance to be ruined. Not that it mattered anyway, there wasn’t much inside. Still, I patted down the cover with a paper towel once I’d made it inside and then I tossed it on the counter and braced my hands beside it.

  I stood there for a while, eyes between my hands, thoughts shredding me from the inside out. I thought of Keith, of my past, of my choices. I thought of Momma Von, the lessons she’d taught me, the advice she tried to give that I wasn’t sure I truly heard. I thought of Anderson, his strength and his tenderness, both of which I yearned for desperately. Everything flew in at once, circling quickly—Sarah, my mom, Adrian, Tucker, the tower, the river, Keith’s final stab, Anderson’s final plea.

  It was too much, and I crawled my hands along the counter with unsteady breaths and blurred vision, stomach finally surrendering my coffee to the sink.

  It was true, what I’d said to Wren that first night we’d had dinner at her place.

  I liked to fix things. Things were easier to fix than people.

  It was a huge reason why I had filled so much of my time since Dani passed working—on cars, cabins, hot tubs, sheds, bridges, roads, driveways, firewood—anything and everything to keep my mind off thinking about myself.

  It used to work. I used to be able to turn my thoughts off the moment I walked out the door in the morning, focusing only on the tasks at hand until I crawled back into bed at night. But now? Now, no matter how hard I worked with my hands, my brain worked harder.

  I couldn’t stop thinking. No matter how I tried.

  I’d thought I was getting better, even if only marginally, but then I’d stumbled past Wren’s cabin at exactly the worst moment possible.

  A black Mercedes had sped out of her drive four days ago, and I knew without asking who it was. So, when the dust cleared and I saw her on the porch, trembling hands covering her mouth, big green eyes wide and scared, I couldn’t help it. I ran to her, and she ran to me, and then she stole every ounce of confidence I had that I could let her go with just one kiss.

  The nights had been harder since that day, because I knew she was leaving—in just three days—and the chances I’d ever see her again were about as good as winning the lottery. Our lives didn’t fit together, and yet I wanted her in mine. I wanted to be in hers.

  But then I’d think back to Dani’s grave, when I let her go, and the sense of peace I had felt in that moment. Because as much as it was true that I’d miss Wren, it was also true that she hadn’t left my life without completely changing it—in possibly the best way anyone has ever changed my life. She’d opened my eyes again, and I’d never forget her for that.

  Still, I was trying my best to at least get back some part of my routine before her. So, though the sun was nearly setting, Ron and I were still tinkering away on his old truck. I’d been there since sunrise, only running home for a brief lunch before getting right back to it.

  Sometimes I wondered if Ron even needed his truck worked on. Did he just break parts here and there so we’d have something to do? Did he say he wanted upgrades that he truly couldn’t care less about? I didn’t know, and I didn’t ask, because I was thankful for the distraction, no matter how small it was.

  “Momma Von stopped by while you were eating lunch earlier,” Ron said out of nowhere. We’d barely grunted out more than five words to each other all day, so the full sentence made me pause where my hands were working on the water pump.

  “Yeah?”

  “Mmm,” he answered. “Wanted to know if I could help her hang a going away sign out at Wren’s cabin here in a few days. Guess she’s heading back to the city, huh?”

  I swallowed. “She is.”

  Ron pushed out from under the truck, using the bumper to stand while I urged my hands to keep moving. They were frozen still.

  “My Margie loved the city,” he said, leaning back against the front hood. He stared off down the drive while I stared at my hands. “She was so happy when we got stationed here in Washington. Don’t get me wrong, she was a good ol’ country girl,” he added with a smile. “But she loved the city. Used to con me into taking her to go dancing any time she could.”

  Finally my hands shifted back to life, and I worked away while Ron leaned there beside me.

  “Wren kind of reminds me of her,” he said, and though I was on edge, I pretended like I wasn’t, reaching into my toolbox for a different screwdriver and getting right back to my task. “She has the same bright blonde hair, same green eyes. My Margie was a little curvier, but hey, that’s how I liked her,” he added with a grin and a nudge to my elbow.

  I smiled. “I bet she was something else.”

  He nodded. “She was. She really was.”

  He was quiet for a moment, but I felt heavier words waiting to be spoken. I wasn’t even
sure what I was doing under that hood anymore.

  “You know, Margie and our baby boy were taken from me much the way Dani was taken from you. And let me tell you, the healing I’ve seen you do this summer is more than I have done for myself in the twenty-eight years since I lost them. I know you still miss Dani, and that you love her, and that you’ll always have a hole in your heart from her leaving this Earth too soon. But you learned how to live again this summer,” he said, turning to face me. The setting sun cast a golden hue over his weathered features. “Wren showed you how, didn’t she?”

  I tossed the screwdriver back in my box and reached for the dirty red rag that looked more pink now from days of use. I wiped my hands on it, keeping my eyes there as I answered him. “She did.”

  “And now you’re just going to let her go?”

  I gritted my teeth, wiping the last of the grease I could actually remove from my hands before tossing the rag back over my box. “I don’t really have a choice.”

  “Bullshit.”

  I finally looked at him, and his face was stone, jaw set. I shook my head and threw my hands out toward him.

  “What am I supposed to do, Ron? She just got a divorce, she came here to get away from her life and find clarity. And I’m fucked up—in almost every possible way, but especially when it comes to relationships. I was a distraction and a release for her, just like she was a light of hope for me. We both needed each other this summer in different ways. But now the summer’s over, and she has to go, and I have to stay. So this is where it ends.”

  “But why?” he probed, pushing off where he leaned on the truck to follow me around the garage as I cleaned up. “Did you ask her if she wants to live in Seattle forever? Did you ask yourself if you really wanted to stay here in Gold Bar? And so what if she just got a divorce or if you’ve been a zombie for seven years? Life doesn’t exactly give us what we need when it’s the perfect time. It’s not a pitching machine straight over the plate. Life throws curve balls—hard and fast, unpredictable. But you still have to hit that sucker or strike out swinging.”