Staying True - A Contemporary Romance Novel (24 page)

I craved the older version of
Jessica, the worst of her.

I looked into her red eyes and
allowed the silence to fill our space. Then, I took my first brave step out on
the ledge. “You don’t need me anymore.”

She squeezed her eyes shut and
inhaled. “We live two different lives now. And I carry around this enormous
amount of guilt for my success.”

“Please don’t.”

“I do. You need me to be someone you
can save. I can’t be that for you anymore.”

I bowed my head ashamed that I would
want her to be any less.

“Now that I’m sober it’s even harder
for me to play weak for you.”

“Play weak?”

“I loved how you used to take care of
me before all of this happened. I leaned on you, and you were always there to
pick up my pieces.”

“I loved being there to pick up your
pieces.”

“That defined us. Now, we don’t have
that anymore. I have no desire to have that anymore,” she said.

“Me either.” I kicked the dirt. “I
care about you. I hope you know that.”

“You prefer me broken, though.”

We stared at each other. I did. I
absolutely did. And like a freight train, it hit me that this wasn’t about
Jessica. It was about me.

She exhaled. “I had these dreams of
when I got home we’d start right back off where we left. No matter what I
tried, nothing worked. I felt like you were waiting for me to crack. When I
didn’t, I could see the boredom set in. You have no interests in my interests,
any more than I have in yours.”

“You hate pottery,” I said.

“You hate discussing lawn equipment
and shrubbery.”

“We have zero in common,” I said,
flatly.

“Zero.”

We stood amongst the silent remnants
of our tattered marriage, neither mad nor shocked.

“Knowing what you absolutely don’t
want out of life is more powerful than knowing what you do want,” she said with
surprising confidence. “At least in my case. I don’t want to be a drunk. All I
want to do is stay on this upward path, where I can find myself, my true self,
my best self.”

I exhaled. “Me too.”

* *

I packed up my belongings and drove
up to Rhode Island to live with Shawna until my house sold.

I knocked on Shawna’s door. She
answered wearing pink pajamas and hot rollers. “I am so glad to see you.” She
shuffled me in and proceeded down her hallway to the guest room. “Just toss
your stuff in there and we’ll settle you in later. Right now, I need your
help.” She started pulling out the hot rollers as we headed back to her
kitchen. She turned around. “Gosh, where are my manners? Tell me how you are,
gorgeous.”

“I feel amazing.”

She stopped walking and tugging at
her rollers. “You look amazing.”

“So what’s going on here?” I asked,
taking in the living room. It looked like something out of a designer magazine
with its fluffy pillows, lacy curtains, and wicker basket filled with yarns and
knitting needles. A total chick room.

“She called me.” Her eyes sparkled.
“Like thirty minutes ago! She invited me to go with her to tour Sakonnet
Vineyards. She’ll be here in half an hour. I’m nowhere near ready.”

“What can I do?”

“Iron.” She spun around, biting on
her nails. “Get the iron from the closet and iron my skirt while I fix my hair
and makeup.”

“I’ve never seen you look so
nervous.” I laughed. Her hair waved up all over and bounced along with her
walk.

She pointed to the closet on her way
by. “Closet. Iron. Go.”

Thirty minutes later, exactly, Eloise
knocked on the door.

Shawna’s eyes popped. She ran towards
the bathroom. “You answer.”

“My God, you’re acting like this is
the first time you’ve ever met her.”

“For a date it is!” She ran down the
hallway and slammed the door.

I stood alone to face the welcome. I
opened the door to Eloise. She wore her dirty blonde hair in a French braid and
wore a light shade of lipstick to match her fair, freckled complexion. “Hey I
remember you from The Rafters,” she said with a low, sweet voice. “Nadia,
right?”

“Yes. That’s right. Come on in.” I
invited her into my new temporary home.

A moment later, Shawna emerged. Her
eyes erupted into a smile as soon as they landed on Eloise. “You look so
pretty.”

Eloise blushed equally as red.

Love definitely floated in the air.

* *

Our house sold within a month. At the
signing over of the paperwork, we acted like two professionals completing a
project. Then, when we said goodbye, we hugged and she cradled my head the way
I used to do for her. “Take care of yourself, my little Butterfly.”

A lump formed in my throat. “You
too,” I managed to say.

“Don’t be a stranger,” she said.

I smiled and waved goodbye.

* *

I sat on a good down payment for a
place of my own, but decided at the pleadings of Shawna to take my time and
stay on as her roommate for a little while longer. Eloise visited often and the
three of us would cook up these gourmet spreads and pig out until our stomachs
hurt.

Every once in a while they’d slip
about Ruby and her pilot girlfriend, and I’d mentally ball up in pain. I
attempted to call her a few times, but failed to hit send. Her life had taken
off, and I didn’t wait to screw it up for her.

So instead, I focused on something I
could positively affect. I visited with her grampa every day that I knew Shawna
or Ruby could not. I begged him to promise me not to tell Ruby.

“Our little secret,” he’d whisper.

“Yes,” I said. “Our little secret.”

I’d sit on his couch and talk to him
about his younger days. He would talk about the farming and the mill work he
did, about his younger brother dying from pneumonia, about his mother falling
sick to heart disease, and how his older sister had to quit school to take care
of the kids after that. He loved talking about school, and how he only managed
to get to eighth grade because he too had to quit and work the farm.

He laughed when he talked about his
old house, about how they lived on a hill and their house sat below the well,
and about how the outhouse sat above the well. We laughed so loud at this I
feared he’d choke.

The man lived a fascinating life. He
used to brew his own moonshine. Sew his own clothes. Grow his own food. Raise
chicken and cattle. “There were no grocery stores around us,” he would say,
gazing off as if looking out over those beautiful fields again. “We’d race to
see who picked the most corn or tomatoes, and the winner would always get to
hand off a chore the very next day. Life was simple back then. You know?”

“It sounds hard to me.” I laughed.
“I’m tortured when I have to go to the grocery store and buy produce.”

“It was tough. Tough was good. Tough
forced a person to get strong. We got to horse around out in the fields and get
all that fresh air. Nowadays all the younger ones do is sit in front of the
television. Kids don’t know how to play.”

Each time I visited, his fragility
got worse. He’d have a hard time seeing me. We’d spend much of my visit going
over the same memories. Each time I arrived, his spirit came alive. I enjoyed
seeing the smile and color return to his cheeks when he’d talk about young
Ruby, about his wife, and about his beloved Grace.

Each visit ended with at least one
point of recognition where he’d look at me and smile like a little boy.

Shawna accused me of using him as a
crutch, as that next person to mend and fix. Maybe at first I needed him that
way. Yet, as my visits grew, I started to realize I couldn’t mend a man who
wasn’t broken.

My visits became less about trying to
find something to fix and more about learning to just let be.

We sipped tea. We slurped Jell-O. We
read books. We sat in silence staring at the tree outside of his window. We
prayed. We reminisced. We developed a trust and a friendship, one rooted in the
present moment, and not ugly past failures, hurts, or expectations.

When he would go into his foggy
moments, I’d ramble on about work and about the weather. Sometimes, I’d even
indulge in the trust he provided and tell him how much I missed Ruby and how I
had no idea how to get back into her life. I confessed to him, staring straight
into his hazy eyes, that I wanted to call her several times but chickened out.
“I lost a good one,” I said on my latest visit. He stared straight ahead,
completely in his own world. “I just want to know if she’s okay. I’ve
completely failed by not calling her.”

Grampa looked over at me finally and
said, “Sometimes you just got to let them go so they can learn to fly on their
own. When they learn, if they come back, you’ve got someone who will always
return and land on your heart like a whisper.”

I stared at a glass of ginger ale on
his bedside and admired the way the bubbles floated to the top. When they
reached the air, they popped, freeing themselves. The bubbles aided one
another, lifting each other to this freedom.

It dawned on me, suddenly. Just like
these bubbles, Ruby lifted me up and pushed me out of the way. She set me free
so I could learn to fly.

“Ruby is special,” he said.

“Yes, sir, I know that.”

“She’s unconventional and can’t be
trapped. You can’t clip her wings. She’ll fall flat. She needs room and plenty
of air under those wings. Watch out, because when she starts to soar, she gets
up there really high and just whoosh, takes off like a bat out of hell.” He
laughed so hard he started to choke.

“What’s to say she won’t just keep on
flying?”

“In time, I have faith that my Ruby
will land where she needs.”

I took a deep breath.

“I hurt her feelings.”

He squinted at me. “How badly?”

“Very badly. I told her she was
incapable.”

He turned serious. “Do you think she
is?”

“At times she’s been a little
reckless with her life.”

“Does she laugh while being
reckless?”

“She’s always smiling.”

“Are others laughing along with her?”

“Always.”

“Then you must let her be.”

“I already have. I backed out of her
life months ago. She told me back then that she thinks I’m controlling because
I like to help mend people.”

“Are you a therapist?”

I laughed. “Hell no.”

“Then, stop mending.”

I nodded.

He stared off to the television. “Why
do you come visit me?”

“Because I like you.”

“Are you trying to mend me?”

“More like you’re mending me,” I
said.

He looked back at me and smiled. “An
old man like me?”

I nodded. “More than you’ll ever
know.”

He sighed and labored for a breath.
“Promise me something, dear.”

“Anything.”

“Well two things. One, don’t trap
her. Two, take care of her.”

“Sir,” I said, leaning in. “Those two
things can’t be compatible. You said so yourself. She’s got wings, and those
wings need to fly.”

“Those wings also need air to lift
them up. So promise me.”

“I promise.”

“Now listen carefully. Ruby doesn’t
trust easily.”

“I know. I doubt she’d ever take my
call again, if I’m even brave enough to press send.”

“I’m going to ensure that one day she
will take your call. She’ll take it, because you’re going to tell her I told
you a secret.”

“You’ve got a secret?”

“I’m going to tell you my secret,
because I trust you.”

I leaned in closer. “You’ve got my
word.”

“I’m not going to last much longer.”

“Stop.” I tapped his hand.

“When I die, I want you to show her
something for me. Can you do that?”

“Stop talking like this.”

“I buried a time capsule treasure for
her back when I sold The Rafters. It’s got a bunch of sentimental things that
we shared over the years. I was feeling nostalgic back then. I wanted her to
get back there one day. So, I planted the time capsule and told my lawyer about
it. Of course, after I met Mrs. Green, I asked her to tell Ruby instead. I
called my lawyer the next day and told him this change of plan. And now, guess
what?”

“What?”

“Now, I want you to be the one to
tell her. I want you to be there when she goes through it.”

I swallowed back the strain of tears.
“Wow. That’s the sweetest thing ever.”

“It’s in the barn of The Rafters
underneath the granite stone in the left corner.”

“I’ll see to it that she finds it
many, many years from now.” I winked.