Page 18 of Soft Rebound (Mad City Moments #2)
Liz
I let us both in and turn on the lights, then toe off my shoes and drop my keys onto the counter. Bobby follows me inside and drops his bag by the door. He glances around the apartment. The expression on his face tells me he likes it.
“How did you find me?” I ask as I lean against the kitchen island, arms crossed over my chest.
“How do you think? Cousin Chloe.” Bobby sits on one of the barstools.
“Shit. I told her not to tell you guys anything. How did you even know I would be in Madison, that she’d be the one to ask where I was?”
“Give me some credit, sis. I know you pretty well. You wouldn’t go somewhere where you knew absolutely no one. And I know you’re actually tight with Chloe. “
I sulk a bit. “But I explicitly told her not to say anything.”
“And she didn’t. Mom called her probably fifteen times and she really gave no indication she had any idea where you were. But it was different when I showed up at her place.”
“Tell me you didn’t intimidate poor Chloe! She’s got enough on her plate.”
“I didn’t. I didn’t even stay very long. I explained that it’s been months and that we’re worried and that it makes sense for us to know where you are and how you’re doing. And she agreed that she was worried about you a little, too. You haven’t been in touch with her, either.”
“I’ve been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“What do you mean, doing what? I’ve been interviewing for jobs.”
“Till 11:00 PM on a Wednesday?”
“Well, no. I met some new people. I was at a friend’s place.” Why do I feel the need to justify myself?
“Oh, you’ve made friends already. That seems ... fast.”
“Well, no one I went to elementary school with lives around here. And it’s nice to meet new people.”
He stares at me, inspecting my face. “You’ve changed, Lizzie.”
I shrug. “I guess upheaval will do that to you.”
“I was worried you’d be on the couch, deeply depressed, eating ice cream and needing a shower. But instead you look ... relaxed. Happy.” The takes off his cap, runs fingers through his hair, then replaced the cap. “Damn.”
“You don’t like that I’m relaxed and happy?”
“No, of course not! I mean, I love that you’re doing well. I’m happy that you’re happy. Only ... I’ve been sent to convince you to come back. Mom will have my hide if I don’t. Dad is already moaning that he will go to jail because his books will be in disarray without you there.”
A wave of guilt washes over me at Bobby’s words. I abandoned Dad. Mom. Mickey. Bobby himself. I abandoned everyone I know.
I’m a bad daughter. They gave me everything they could, and I abandoned them.
But at the receding edge of guilt, there is a new feeling. It’s one that I now recognize, one that I’ve spent a long time suppressing and just as long doing my best not to name.
That feeling is anger. Anger borne of frustration, because I was never able to do what I felt was right.
“Dad can hire an accountant,” I say, my voice lower and more stern than I intended. “Or I can keep doing books for him remotely, if you or Mickey would send me the receipts. I don’t have to stay in St. Cloud just because Dad is too cheap to hire someone to do the books.”
Bobby blinks. “We’re family, Lizzie. We should stick together.”
“We are sticking together. I didn’t move across the world. It’s only five hours from Madison to St. Cloud. You can come see me every week if you want.”
He takes off his hat, spins it around on his fist a couple of times, puts it back again.
“Look, I know Jake breaking up with you was hard. I understand wanting to get out so you don’t have to see him anymore.
I get that. We all do. But it’s been two months.
And you seem to be doing well here. I think you are strong enough to come back. ”
I’m boiling with fury because he's not hearing me. I'm afraid I will start yelling if we continue to argue, and the thought of it makes me feel weary.
Instead, I open the fridge and inspect its contents.
“Are you hungry?” I ask.
“Yeah. Hadn’t eaten since lunch.”
“I can make us sandwiches. Or I have some canned soup.”
“Could you do grilled cheese and tomato soup?”
“Yeah. I’ve got everything I need for it,” I say, pulling out cheese and butter from the fridge for the sandwiches, and fresh basil for the soup.
“Mom can’t stop talking about you,” Bobby says as I work on the food.
“She goes on and on about how you must’ve done something terrible for Jake to break up with you, how a nice boy like him wouldn’t have done it if you hadn’t done something first. She says you ran away because you felt guilty.
About whatever you did. I think she thinks you cheated on him. ”
I stop buttering the toast. “Do you believe that?”
“I don’t,” Bobby says. “I’m just telling you what she says.”
“Jake broke up with me ,” I say, butter knife pointing at my chest. “You know, I put up with a lot of petty bullshit from him over the years. Then he told me that he wasn’t sure marrying me was what he wanted anymore. I couldn’t stay around him after that. I had to get away.”
“Mom and Dad think you had a breakdown.”
“It’s more of a disembodied feeling, like my mind and my emotions and my body all split.
I couldn’t be sad or angry or anything. I was just numb.
I was like that for a couple of weeks. But I’ve found my way back.
I’m back in my body and I’m feeling good.
I am never going back, Bobby. I love you and I love Mom and Dad and I even love that annoying turd Mickey”—Bobby grins at those words— “but I’m feeling like I’m finally inside my body in a way that I never remember being before and, honestly, I want to keep feeling this way. For however long it lasts.”
I press on the sandwiches with a spatula. They make a satisfying sizzling sound.
“I had no idea about any of this,” Bobby says. “I always thought you mooned over Jake, and that he was a stuck-up douchebag, but that he treated you right. I never realized that he’d been making you unhappy all these years.”
“Not unhappy, but not happy either. I couldn’t see it while I was with him, though. Lack of experience is a bitch.”
I stir the tomato soup on the stove, then chop up some fresh basil and drop it inside.
“That smells amazing,” Bobby says, looking like a cartoon wolf.
I smile and flip over the sandwiches. “You seem hungry.”
“You have no idea. I think I could eat all of that.”
“You can,” I say. “I actually had dinner, so I’m not hungry.”
“You sure?” He looks endearingly hopeful.
“Of course. I’ll take a bite of one sandwich, just to taste, but you can eat the rest if you want.”
Bobby watches me as I pour the soup for him in one of the clay bowls, and I place both sandwiches on a plate. I cut off a corner from one and pop it into my mouth, but put the rest in front of him.
He sits at the island, leaning forward on crossed forearms. His eyes roam my face and he looks as if he’s seeing me for the first time.
“What?” I say. “Why are you looking at me like that? You’re freaking me out.”
“I can’t believe I’ve never realized it before,” he says. “You’ve always done this.” He points toward the sandwiches before him. “Given up what’s yours. I never realized it till right now. You’ve always put me and Mickey and Mom and Dad first. I bet you did it for Jake, too.”
I shrug.
“You shouldn’t. You should put yourself first.”
“I know, Bobby.” I say. “That’s what I’m trying to do here. I’m trying to put myself first.”
“Good,” he says and pushes the plate with sandwiches toward me. “Take one. I don’t need both.”
I push it back toward him. “No, I really am not hungry. You can have them. I promise I’m okay. It’s actually a little late for me to have a full meal.”
He looks at me intently.
“Seriously,” I say. “Just eat the sandwiches.”
“Are you dieting again?” he asks as he takes a bite.
“No, I’m not. I honestly had dinner earlier.”
“With the person that kept you out till 11:00?”
“Yes. It’s a new friend. I met her during one of the interviews. I was at her place.”
He raises his eyebrow.
“Oh, grow up.” I swat him on the shoulder. “It’s not like that. But she is pretty amazing.”
“Maybe I should be asking you if you’re gay,” he says.
I look right at him. “I guess you didn’t forget.”
He lowers his gaze. “No. I didn’t forget.”
“Did you ... want to talk about it now?”
He pushes the sandwiches to the side and takes three spoonfuls of the soup. “It’s good,” he says.
“Thanks,” I say. “It came from a can. You don’t have to talk about it, you know. You’re the one who brought it up.”
“I know!” he snaps. “I know I did.”
I put up my hands in surrender.
He drops his spoon. “It’s not easy for me to talk about this shit, Lizzie, okay? I’ve never talked about it with anyone... Just give me a minute, would you?”
I make a zipping-my-mouth-shut gesture and pour myself a small amount of soup.
We eat in silence, Bobby tearing off huge chunks of the sandwich with his teeth.
He eats with abandon, without a care for how he looks or how much he ingests.
He’s famished, so he devours. I envy men for how free they are with their food.
I want to eat like that. Like nothing matters except my hunger.
“I don’t like women,” he says. “Not to have sex with, I mean. I’ve fooled around with a few girls in high school, but it never felt right.”
I nod and keep eating, looking up at him over my soup.
“I like men,” he says. “But I didn’t go to college, like you. I don’t know anyone who’s gay. All these guys that Mickey and I hang out with, they are all about chasing women and getting wasted.”
I reach out and squeeze his hand. “I know.”
“I don’t know what to do, Lizzie. Mickey and some of my friends are starting to catch on that something’s wrong with me.”
“Nothing’s wrong with you,” I say. “You’re just gay. Plenty of people are gay.”
“But I’m almost thirty and I have very little experience,” he says. “Everyone figured it out ages ago.”