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“I’ve never…been in a real relationship. I never, never…knew how, or even wanted to. The girls I’ve….been with,” He winces, “I was just trying…to feel something. I wish I could…I wish I could take it all back.” I nod and squeeze his hand a little. “Please…I’m sorry…don’t leave…” He says softly, but fiercely. My heart crumbles a little at those words. I see that broken little boy all over again. I bring my hand to his face and cup his cheek.
“I told you, I’m not going anywhere…I mean it. Just please…keep letting me in…” I say, my eyes starting to tear. “And maybe a warning of past flings would be appreciated…”
He turns his face into my hand to kiss my palm. “I’m so sorry.”
“You don’t have to be sorry. You didn’t do anything wrong. I mean, I want to find this girl and punch her in the vagina,” He makes a choking sound, his eyes wide, “but I obviously won’t. I’m sure she’s a nice girl.” I try to tease and lighten the tension. He shakes his head lightly in amusement, his face still pink in embarrassment.
“You…were always…the one I wanted…dreamed of…” He says, stuttering through his words. “I never…never thought I would…ever have this chance. I’m…so scared of ruining it.”
“Give yourself some grace,” I say gently. He looks at me deeply. The look takes away my doubt and insecurity, his words help as well. I know how difficult the words were for him. “We haven’t even been together for a week,” I joke.
He shakes his head. “I know. But it feels like it’s been…much longer than that.”
I nod and smile a real smile. His breath loosens at my smile and he gently leans down to kiss my forehead. “But I would prefer to spend more time at my place…please.”
He frowns in apology and responds, “Of course. I don’t even spend a lot of time here.”
“That’s good to hear, because it looks like you just moved in today!” I joke, making a point to look around. “You don’t have any pictures!”
He shakes his head. “No…I don’t.”
“I’ll fix that. Don’t worry.” We both smile.
“Let’s go grab some coffee?” He asks softly. I smile and nod.
He takes my hand and leads me out of the room and down the hall, towards the exit.
“If that was our first real issue as a couple, I think we handled that pretty well,” I state. He looks at me as we walk towards his truck. He stops in front of the passenger door, but instead of opening it, he takes both of my hands and pulls me closer to him.
“Thank you…for listening…for being patient with…me,” He says. “Thank you for not leaving.”
I pull my hands from his and reach up to hold his face. He wraps his arms around my back. “I’m not going anywhere.” Emotion fills his face before he leans in to kiss me.
I feel both his apology and his thanks in the kiss. I also feel that other emotion that neither of us seem ready to voice out loud.
Yet.
TWENTY-TWO
ELLIOT, NOW
It is early December now, and the silence is still my closest companion.
We spent Thanksgiving at her parents’ house. She laughed and celebrated with them; I felt like a stranger. An outsider. I felt like she brought me along as an obligation, following her around like a wounded puppy.
The pity on her parents’ faces was becoming unbearable. I knew they were trying their hardest to actively include me in the day and their activities, but Mads made it clear she would rather be alone with them. Ana and David stopped by for dessert with Ana’s parents. They embraced me along with Mads. But they also looked at me with pity.
I tried to keep myself small so that I wouldn’t make her uncomfortable.
At first Mads would make small talk in the morning while making coffee, which I tried my best to respond evenly and normally with. But after a couple of weeks, she just had a coffee ready for me before I left for work and she didn’t come out of the guest room at all to see me off. I refuse to call it ‘her room’.
In the evenings, one of us cooks or we order out, but we eat in silence.
But I can’t stand it anymore.
I’m exhausted and not in the best mood when I pull the car into the driveway, later than usual in getting home after working through an emergency family issue to re-home four children. When I open the door, Mads is sitting at the kitchen table reading a book and eating pizza.
“Hey,” She says without looking up. “There’s pizza for you on the counter.”
