by Anne Jolin
By the time the doctor left, I was exhausted.
Sadie and Nora had come up a few minutes ago to say goodbye before they headed home to take Mason to bed.
“I’ll come first thing in the morning with some of your things.” Nora smiled, kissing me on the cheek.
“You still have your key?” I asked, and she nodded.
I wondered briefly what people without a Sadie and Nora did in life, because right now, I was even more so reminded of how blessed I was to have them in my life.
“Ryley Brookes.”
I turned my head and followed the sound of his deep voice down the hall.
Standing at the nurse’s station in the children’s wing of the hospital was Owen.
“How did he?” I looked at them both, my voice trailing off.
“I called him.” Sadie smiled.
With that, they hugged me goodbye and carried a very sleepy Mason into the elevator.
My hair was a mess, I was still in today’s scrubs, and my eyes were red from crying, but none of that stopped me from staring at him.
Seeing him up close after some time made my lungs protest at taking in air. He looked rougher somehow, as if the Alberta winter had made him colder, or perhaps it was me who had done that.
He was wearing a plaid jacket which was open in the front just enough to see the green Henley that fit the muscles of his torso like it had been made for him. Still, he looked like Owen, blue jeans, ten-gallon hat, cowboy boots and all.
And here he was, strong and steady as ever.
Ryley had been hurt, and he couldn’t stay away.
I watched the nurse point him down the hallway in my direction and did my best to come up with a half smile when our eyes met.
“Thank you, ma’am,” he drawled to the middle-aged woman in scrubs and then he was walking toward me.
His large frame seemed to engulf the hospital walls that had children’s drawings along the bottom and a pale yellow ribbon of paint down the center.
“Hey.” He shoved his hands into the front pockets of his jeans like he didn’t know what to do with them as he stopped in front of me.
“Hey,” I answered.
It seemed so weak, like there should be so much more for us to say to each other than just that but there wasn’t.
This was what we were left with.
Owen looked through the window of Ryley’s room and his face grew tight. “How is she?”
“She has a broken wrist and a mild concussion from the fall, but the doctors say she’ll be okay,” I told him, crossing my arms over my chest protectively. Part of me was worried they’d reach out for him if I didn’t keep them at bay. “They’re going to keep her overnight to monitor the concussion and they’ll discharge her in the morning.”
He acknowledged me only by tipping the brim of his hat downward a little. It reminded me how much I loved him in that stupid hat and it stung to be reminded of that.
The tension in the air between us was thick and uncomfortable, only made worse by our silence.
“How are you?” I asked at the same time he asked. “How did she get hit?”
“Oh, u-h-h,” I stammered at the same time he said, “I’m doin’ all right.”
We both paused, but he filled the silence by speaking next, and this time, I kept my mouth closed. “Circuit starts up next week. I’ll be leavin’ on Sunday.”
I knew the rodeo season was coming and I knew he’d be going. After all, that’s why we’d split, but something about hearing him say it made everything so real. In fact, it made me incredibly sad.
Instead of commenting on this, I answered his question. “She was riding her bike outside Sadie and Nora’s, the neighbour backed out of his driveway and didn’t see her.”
“That ain’t right,” he growled. “People oughta be lookin’ out for kids not runnin’ ‘em over while they’re playin’.”
Though I agreed with him, I found myself at loss for what to say, and so nothing came out. It was hard to be reminded firsthand that he cared so much about Ryley, and about me. It only made staying unattached to him that much harder. Owen was an easy man to love, and though I hadn’t anticipated falling in love with him, it didn’t change the fact that I had. The fact that we weren’t together didn’t change any of that, either.
I tried to remind myself that it was for the best. That the situation we were in, although awkward, would only protect everybody involved.
But I guess it was hard to see that when he was standing right in front of me.
“Can I see her?” he asked, leaning against the wall next to her door.
“Owen, I just…” I didn’t know how to say it.
I didn’t know how to tell him to leave because it wasn’t what I wanted. What I wanted was to face plant into his chest and tell him how much I missed him.
That wasn’t what I said, though.
“I just think it might be best for you to go.” My eyes fell to the floor. “I don’t want her to be confused when she wakes up.”
He sighed. “Yah. I get it.”
“I’m sorry,” I whispered.
My apology was an earnest one. I was sure being apart from us was as hard on him as it was on us, and I was respectful of that.
“I miss her,” he said, catching me off guard. The green in his eyes seemed tired, like it exhausted them to be apart from her. “I miss you, Rayne.”
There were no words on my lips that I could tell him and he seemed to know that. Stepping forward I stayed still as can be while he placed a kiss on my forehead.
“I’ll be downstairs if you need anythin’.”
And then he was gone.
Nora told me when she arrived in the morning that he was still asleep in the waiting room.
He had stayed, for us.
AIN’T MUCH I lOVE MORE than bein’ home and the rodeo. Hell, I figured if a man was born to do somethin’ then he ought to be doin’ it and I’d been ridin’ broncs for least fifteen years now. It was in my bones and runnin’ in my blood the need to ride for eight seconds.
My whole life’s been spent focusin’ on them handful of seconds. Not much about what came before or after ‘em ever really seemed to matter much, least not until now.
Didn’t seem the same packin’ up a life into a trailer this time. Seemed like there was a whole lot more I’d been leavin’ behind when I drove outta here this afternoon.
It was weighin’ heavy on my mind and ain’t been real sure how to manage that.
“How’s the packing coming?”
Lookin’ over my shoulder, I seen Dad leanin’ against the trailer door.
I shrugged, tossin’ buncha clothes Aurora had cleaned into a bag. “It’s goin’.”
There wasn’t a time in my life when I’d been a quiet man. Usually, I always had somethin’ to say and was fixin’ to say it whether people were gonna listen or not. But these days, that ain’t me. These days I ain’t say much unless bein’ asked and even then words seemed real hard to come by.
Seems every time I spoke I was wishin’ I was talkin’ to her.
“What time are you headed out?” he asked, watchin’ me like he could see what I was thinkin’.
Raisin’ three kids alone for the better part of their lives did that to a man. Made him real perceptive to the nature of other people. The way he was watchin’ me was like he could see that bleedin’ heart of mine outside in the dirt.
“’Bout seven.” I zipped the bag up tight and hucked it onto the bed. Seein’ it reminded me of that rainy night, damn near everything reminded me of her nowadays. Even seein’ that chapstick she wore in the grocery store made me feel a little like bein’ gutted.
Guess sometimes there were things a man didn’t know how to say or how to share. It was hard not thinkin’ if momma was still alive maybe she’d be tellin’ me what to do. Mom’s were always good at that, pullin’ men’s head outta their asses and pointin’ ‘em in the direction of where they oughta be headed.
Dad seemed
more in the way of lettin’ kids make their own mistakes and learnin’ how to get back up after ‘em. I’d spent a lifetime fallin’ off horses, but I ain’t sure I ever did much learnin’ when it came to fallin’ down in life.
Another thing men were good at I guess, stayin’ blind when they oughta be thinkin’.
“You got a minute to come sit outside with your old man?”
Lookin’ ‘round the trailer, I figured there ain’t much left needed doin’ except hitchin’ to the truck, and even that ain’t take more than a few minutes.
“’Course,” I said, tippin’ my hat and gesturin’ outside.
Dad stepped outta the Airstream, sittin’ down on one of them foldin’ chairs and crossed his ankles. He ain’t said nothin’. He just sat there watchin’ me, waitin’.
“How do you know if lovin’ somethin’ makes it right?” I asked, rubbin’ my face with my hands.
Never felt so much dread in my life as I did packin’ to leave this place, not even on a bad draw did I feel a feelin’ as ugly as this one.
He leaned back into the chair and spun the wedding ring he still wore around on his finger. “You can love a lot of things in this life that won’t ever be right for you, hell some of them might even be bad and maybe you won’t know it at the time.” Dad shook his head. “The point in life isn’t about finding the things you love, it’s finding the things that love you back.” He made a fist with his left hand and smiled. “And even then, loving someone won’t ever be enough, son. You have to find the courage to keep loving them when maybe they don’t make liking them so easy.”
I frowned, knowin’ full well he knew exactly what I was thinkin’ about without me evenin’ needin’ to say it.
“Women are just people, Owen. I know sometimes it’s real easy for us to mistake them as angels, but they aren’t.” He looked out into the snow-covered fields and kept on talkin’. “They’re only human, like the rest of us. They make mistakes and hell, sometimes they’ll even make you crazy, but that doesn’t mean you give up on them.”
“I didn’t give…” I started arguin’ with him but he just shook his head.
“Men aren’t always ready to do what love’s asking of us, son. We spend a lot of years learning to be selfish and that makes doing love’s bidding a lot harder than it ought to be.” He looked at me and leaned forward, resting his elbows on his knees. “When a man’s ready to put a woman’s heart before his dreams, that’s when you’ll know if lovin’ her was meant for you.”
I’d never known Dad to speak in riddles, but hell it seemed like he’d sure learned to do so.
“This is all I’ve known.” I gestured to the trailer behind me.
“Don’t mean it’s all you’ve gotta know for the rest of your life, son.” He pushed the brim of his cowboy hat up. “There’s a lot more to livin’ then the rodeo. You’ve had a good fifteen years being a wild man, there isn’t any shame in growin’ up.”
My family had always been supportive of the rodeo, but that didn’t mean they didn’t figure it had an expiration date. Doing what we do, ridin’ as hard as we rid. Men grew older a lot quicker than they needed too.
“I’ve only got ‘bout three years at best in the circuit before I’m too old.” I was tryin’ to reason with him, get him to see where I was comin’ from.
He shook his head. “Three more years getting beat up by horses and winning buckles is worth saying goodbye to those two girls?”
Standin’ up, I kicked over a bucket and threw my hands in the air. “I shouldn’t have to choose, Dad.” I was losin’ it, those guilty feelins of leavin’ roarin’ in my chest. “It ain’t right, her makin’ me choose between lovin’ her and ridin’.”
“You’re an idiot.” He uncrossed his ankles, pushin’ the snow around.
I spun ‘round real quick and glared at him. Not once in my life in all my bad decisions had he ever called me that. “Excuse me?”
“That girl isn’t asking you to choose between loving her and riding broncos, son.” He shook his head. “You’re always going to love each other. Anyone who’s seen you two mopin’ around town the last few months could see that. She’s asking you to choose yourself over dyin’.”
My mouth dropped open. “I ain’t gonna die.” He was bein’ ridiculous.
“Maybe you don’t die tomorrow, but what about the next day? The next month? The next year? It’s not like you haven’t been hurt before.” He started countin’ off things on his fingers. “In fifteen years, I’ve seen you bruised, bloody and with more broken bones than most of the high school hockey team combined. You’re being ignorant if you think what she’s asking of you is for her, it’s not. It’s for you.” He was scoldin’ me, don’t think my Dad had scolded me since I was a teenager. “It’s about you seein’ forty and having kids of your own. It’s about you dancing with Aurora at her wedding. Get your head out of your ass, Owen. It ain’t about her, it’s about you.”
I yanked the cowboy hat off my head and ran my fingers through my hair. It never occurred to be to be seein’ things in that light, only ever occurred to me she was askin’ me to quit for her own reasons. My head was spinnin’ somethin’ fierce listenin’ to him, wasn’t sure I’d be able to tell which was up if someone had asked.
“Remember how you felt rushing out of here on Friday when Sadie called, letting you know Ryley had been in that accident?” he asked.
I frowned. “’Course I remember.”
Wasn’t sure I’d ever forget the sinking feelin’ in my gut when I got that call. The way my heart pulled in my chest seein’ her lyin’ there in that hospital bed with her momma’s eyes red from all that cryin’.
“Tell me something, son. Would you ever want her feelin’ how you felt that night?” His eyebrows were raised, and he had that knowin’ look on his face.
“No.” I felt tears I hadn’t cried, makin’ my vision blurry.
They say sometimes things just click into place in your head, like all them puzzle pieces that had been floatin’ around up there just connect. I thought about that fear in my chest and the pain in my heart and the way they stole a little part of me as I was drivin’ to the hospital that night. The thought of Ryley losin’ any parts of the perfect little girl she was to feelin’ that way about me made my mind real clear.
There were a lot of things that made a man, and protectin’ his girls from what he could control was one of ‘em.
“Is that how you been feelin’ every time I been dragged outta the ring?” I asked him, all that clarity bleedin’ into old parts of my memory.
He stood up, grabbin’ each of my shoulders with his hands and squeezed. “I love you, Owen. Your momma and I knew you were trouble before you could even walk. That don’t mean we haven’t been scared to death and had many sleepless nights watching you be as wild as you are.” His eyes always grew soft at the memory of my momma. “When she died, you kids were all I had left. Don’t think there’s a night you’re gone that I ever get a good night’s rest.”
“You never told me.” I spoke through that lump formin’ in my throat.
“It isn’t my place to tell my children how to live their lives, but that doesn’t mean I’m planning to sit on my hands and watch you blame leavin’ on those two girls,” he said. “Only person on earth making you drive that trailer outta here tonight, is you.”
Steppin’ into him, I gave my old man the hug he deserved. In all my years, I ain’t ever met a man as good as him and I was willin’ to bet there wasn’t one out there.
“What ‘bout money?” I asked, lookin’ at the box of buckles and I had sittin’ out on the table. My rodeo earnin’s paid for almost a whole year of expenses for just me.
“You know we have more than enough work here,” Dad said, steppin’ outta our hug and crossin’ his arms over his jacket. “Even with that Donahue boy, still more work around here than people to do it.”
I knew what he was tryin’ to say. There wasn’t a need for me to be runnin’ outta town lookin’
for work when there was plenty of work needed doin’ right here.
“Especially with your sister having the baby and all. If anything, we’re down a hand.” He was smilin’ now.
“If I pull out this late, I won’t get my entry deposits back,” I said. The smile was already formin’ in the corners of my mouth.
“It’s just money.” He tipped his hat. “What are you thinkin’, son?”
I grabbed my jacket off the door to the trailer, and my smile got wider than hell.
“I’m thinkin’ I need to see a woman about her cowboy.”
THE WEEKEND HAD BECOME AN emotional write-off. Though they did discharge us on Saturday, as the staff had promised, it wasn’t until four o’clock in the afternoon. The doctor said Ryley’s concussion had likely passed but to wake her up periodically through the night, just in case. This was not mine or Ryley’s idea of fun. We both slept soundly like grizzly bears but were just as mean when you woke us up before you were ready.
She had been extremely tired by the time we’d gotten home. So was I. So, with the food Nora had dropped us off for dinner, some kind of pasta casserole, we settled in for a movie night. A movie night on the television with the cable that Owen had set up for us.
It was like reminders of him were tucked into every place of my life so that even if I wanted to escape them, I couldn’t. I wondered if it would be like that even after he left for the circuit. Would I still be plagued by thoughts of him so often? Or would it become an out of sight out of mind scenario?
My money wasn’t betting on the latter.
After he had shown up at the hospital, it became harder to shove the hope for something different down deep in my chest. Almost as if just being so close to him and feeling his lips on my skin again brought the walls I’d been trying to build down around me in an instant.
My only saving grace was exhaustion.
