Page 24

Hard Realizations

I didn’t hear from Kyle for two days, and that was helpful. It gave me the opportunity to get good and jaded, and boy, did I ever. From the four walls of my living room, I constructed new ones around myself, keeping my feelings inside, behind lock and key and tucked away from anyone and everything with the propensity to work their way in. I was on guard and ready. Also, I was in bad shape and not quite sure how to rebound.

Kyle, who was apparently back in town, had left two voicemails and knocked once on my door. Sitting in my kitchen as she tried the doorbell a second time, I stared at the woodgrain of the kitchen table I’d inherited from Lindy and sipped the latte I’d had delivered by On the Spot.

“Savanna. I know you’re home. Elizabeth told me she just had a coffee sent over.”

Traitor , I mouthed.

“Please at least consider coming to the door so we can have a conversation about all of this.” A pause. “And I know you can hear me. I lived here for over a month.”

I walked to the front door and leaned against it. “Kyle, I can’t right now, okay?”

A pause. “Can’t or won’t?” Her voice was quieter now.

I pressed my face to the door and then remembered myself, straightening. “Both,” I answered honestly.

“Give me thirty seconds of your time and then I will walk off this porch and allow you space.” Another pause. “I have a shift in twenty-three minutes and you know I like to be early. There’s your guarantee. And if you’re mad, you can be mad at me with the door open.”

I sighed. It might be the only way I was going to get on with my morning. I stood and opened the door in my giving-up joggers, worn-in purple flannel, and bare feet. Not my best look, but I was embracing the hermit shouting I don’t need anyone from the mountaintop vibe.

“Hi,” Kyle said, brightening to a small smile. She also looked nervous and maybe like she hadn’t slept. “Thank you for coming to the door. I wanted an opportunity to explain myself. The little disappearing act I’m not exactly proud of.”

“Yeah. Okay. We can do that.” My voice sounded flat, but there didn’t seem to be much I could do about that.

“Okay, and now that I have you here, it’s almost as if every thought I wanted to impart to you has flown straight out of my head.” She studied me and frowned. “Are you okay? First of all, I mean. You’ve had a rough few days.” And it likely showed.

She was referencing Charlie, who was now awake and working through soft foods. A true improvement, a near miracle if I understood correctly. I wanted to see him, but it seemed like a burden he didn’t need at the moment. Someday. I wasn’t exactly family anymore. He would know soon enough.

“It was a hard few days. Completely agree. And you weren’t here for them.” It wasn’t an accusation. The time for that, and the anger that came with it, had passed. I was resigned now. Numb. It was what it was.

She nodded. “That’s true. I hate myself for it more than you know. I was dealing with my own pain, my own mental health issues, and I fell back into an old pattern.”

“Running away.”

“Apparently so. It’s a defense mechanism that’s fairly new, which means I’m learning how to mitigate it.” She looked to the side in contemplation and back to me. “But in the time that I was gone, I did some thinking and came to some hard realizations.”

I placed a hand on my hip. While I was willing to listen, I couldn’t leap back into what we’d been. Everything in me had slammed on the brakes because there was no way I was careening into a brick wall again when every indication said that was exactly what would happen if I continued to play house with Kyle. Temporary happiness was a wonderful thing but still quite, in fact, temporary.

“I have some demons I’m working through, admittedly, and some of the moments I experienced in the ER this week were so similar to what happened last summer.” She shook her head. “It was like I was back there all over again.”

My heart went heavy. I hated imagining her in any kind of struggle. “I was worried that was the case.”

“I stayed focused, though. Calm and clearheaded. I held it together through every moment of patient care. I was proud of my work that night and the work of the whole team.” She smiled. “God, Savanna. You should have seen them.” She gave her head a shake and then something came over her. Her demeanor shifted. She darkened. “But the second I clocked out, I came undone.”

I wanted to wrap my arms around her but instead wrapped them around myself. “That must have been awful.” I met her gaze. “I could have been there for you. I would have been.”

“I should have let you. I wasn’t quite sure how to process my emotions, how to handle the onslaught. Here’s where I went wrong.” She took a breath. “I forgot to consider that it’s not just me anymore. It’s us. At least, that’s what I want. And if there’s an us, it means I have to let you in. I have to let you help, and I have to help you right back.”

I didn’t say anything, so she pressed on.

“Savanna, I promise you transparency and communication in the future.” She swallowed as if to slow down. “Bottom line, I’m committed to being present and working through my own struggles so that I don’t hurt you again.” She shifted her weight, a move parallel to our own shaky ground. “I have so much more to say, but I think that was more than thirty seconds. I’m sorry I went over.” She sent me a small smile that, knowing her, was meant to break the tension hanging, thick and uncomfortable, between us.

Her explanation made sense, and under different circumstances would have been reasoning I could work with. The problem was that I had nothing left to give. I was barely holding on through this conversation. “These are all good words and sentences. And beyond that, I believe that your intentions are good. But I’m at a spot where I can’t intertwine myself in the way I could even last week.” She blinked. “I need a break from the world, Kyle. It’s been too much. In the midst of you taking off, I got the paternity test back. It was only meant to be a formality, but it showed that Jake’s not my biological father.”

“Oh no,” she said, brow dropping. She took a step forward and stopped herself, likely picking up on my stay-back energy.

“You don’t have to say all the appropriate platitudes. I promise. It won’t do any good, but I appreciate the effort. The reality is that I’m not equipped for this right now,” I said, gesturing between us. “I’m not sure if I ever will be, and that’s the honest truth. I’m not trying to hurt you or punish you, but I’m instead doing what’s right for me.”

Her beautiful blue eyes blinked at me helplessly. “I’ll wait.”

“Kyle.”

“No. It’s my choice. Take whatever time you need, but just know that I’m here. And I’ll be waiting for you because you’re worth it.” She shrugged. “That’s all there is to it.” Her eyes filled with tears and she sent me a sweet smile. I could tell she wanted to say more but held herself back. Finally, she sucked in air. She had a shift to get to. A burst of panic rose in my chest because I didn’t want her held captive in Dreamer’s Bay, especially when I doubted my own ability to give myself over again.

“I’m broken, Kyle,” I called after her, as she opened the car door. It was my way of releasing her, letting her know that I’d never be who she needed me to be again.

“You’re the most perfect person I’ve ever met just as you are,” she said without hesitation. The way she looked at me in that moment would go on to haunt me for the next few sleepless nights and beyond. She’d headed to her car next, back to the hospital where she would attempt to pick up the pieces of her own life, just as I did mine. Two souls trying to get by. I dove beneath a blanket on my couch, turned on the TV, and stared at the screen, hoping it would whisk me away.

I’d pack the drawer Kyle had been using and return her belongings soon.

I’d go to work the next day and smile at my customers and pour myself into making BeLeaf the most amazing hometown grocery store ever seen.

I’d get by. I would. I’d just do it without the highs and lows this time. It was called surviving, and I planned to get really good at it.

* * *

January 2 had always felt like a rest to me. The magic of the holiday season fades away and the transition into something new takes its place. Life returns to normal after the break from work and school, but streets are quieter, offices a little more empty.

This year, on January 2, I was saying goodbye to my very best friend, making the details of everything else seem like a blur. I stood at the end of Jonathan’s driveway, hands shoved into my green puffer coat, white knit cap on my head, the one Jonathan always said made me look like a Twinkie, and watched as Christian helped him down the driveway toward the U-Haul they’d rented for the last of their smaller belongings. Christian’s buddy would be following them and delivering Christian’s car. Jonathan was only using one of his forearm crutches, which meant his pain was mild today.

“You two are going to be the cutest couple in Austin. Not even a contest,” I called.

“Wait till they see my purple arm crutches,” Jonathan said as he approached. “Do Texans appreciate sassy mobility aids?”

“They do,” Christian said automatically. “I called ahead.” He flashed me a wink and offered my hand a supportive squeeze before rounding the truck to the driver’s side. He was giving us our moment, the moment I still couldn’t fathom was here.

“I’ll need live texting of the entire drive,” I told Jonathan.

“Not something you ever have to ask for. You’re getting descriptions of every farm animal and pie shop we encounter. Possibly in combination.”

“I hear cows love homemade apple. Fresh tip for ya.” I tried to laugh. It didn’t work. We stared at each other for a moment. In that span of time, the first moment I’d met Jonathan came rushing back to me. I’d walked into that GSA meeting in high school and seen him alone in the room sitting in the circle of classroom chairs he’d assembled. He’d looked so nervous, wearing his lime green sweater with Davie Bowie on the front. He’d held on to that sweater well past the growth spurt that hit the following year. That was Jonathan, undyingly loyal and a little in love with David Bowie.

“So, are we still FaceTiming from our respective libraries next week?” He was nervous. I could hear the shaky quality of his voice. I very much identified.

“Jon-Bon. Are you kidding? I’m taking you to the pods with me. We’ll just have to share one this time.” I heard the wobbly quality of my own voice and ignored the ache in my throat. I was doing a pretty good job of holding it together but also didn’t know how much longer I could go. “Now get outta here. Texas is waiting. There’s chicken fried steak to dig into.” Cue the emotion.

On that note, Christian came over and pulled me into a tight hug. “Hey. I’ve got him. You hear me?” he whispered in my ear. “I’ll make sure he has everything he needs. And above all else, I plan to do everything I can to make him happy.” He pulled back and met my eyes. “My one and only goal.”

“Thank you,” I said in a strangled voice and kissed his cheek.

Christian leapt into the driver’s seat, and I turned to the person I depended on more than anyone else. The anchor to my storm. “I wish you didn’t have to go,” I whispered.

He nodded and his eyes filled. Wordlessly he opened his free arm and I moved into it, wrapping my arms around him and holding on tight. In that embrace, I let our full history wash over me. All the laughs we’d shared over chips and queso after school let out, and the quiet moments after a rough day when Jonathan had been bullied—I’d held his hand and we’d sat together on my steps, talking or not talking. We’d helped each other through some pretty difficult times. He was still doing that for me. God, this town wouldn’t be the same without him.

“I love you,” he said quietly.

“I love you, too,” I said, pulling back and saying the last part to his face. I gave his shoulders a little shake. “I want you to take it easy when you get there. You tend to get excited, overdo, and pay for it later.”

“Good advice. I promise I will.” We shared a final smile, he squeezed my hand, and he made his way to the passenger side of the truck. I stood there watching as the U-Haul pulled away and lumbered down the residential street that would always be Jonathan’s to me.

Alone in that driveway, the wash of memories swarmed in a jumble. I was dancing with my parents in the living room on my birthday, my mom singing loudly with Fleetwood Mac. I was making spaghetti with Lindy in her kitchen as I learned about spices and the way they fold into each other. I was having a sandwich on my lunch hour with Jake, shooting the breeze about how easy it was to get a fishing license these days. And then lying in Kyle’s arms when the sun slanted across our skin through the large picture windows, happy and peaceful. Jonathan was the last one to leave me, and God, I didn’t want to let go.

“Just me now,” I mumbled to myself and to no one. I kicked a group of pebbles and began my walk home as they scattered. Fitting.