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“No,” Goldie says.
“Yes,” Winston replies. “You will marry him.”
“Over my dead body. Why don’t you listen to me? I’ve told you this before, I will never ever marry someone you pick for me. Ever. It doesn’t matter who they are.”
A loud ringing waves through my ears as I comprehend what they just said. Him telling her to marry me, and her saying she’d never marry someone he picked.
Ever.
I know he’s done this before, she’s told me, but hearing it is entirely different.
Hearing her say no to a question I haven’t asked is also different.
Not that I was thinking about asking her this question, but how I feel after last weekend, I wouldn’t have ruled it out down the road.
But she did.
So dismissively and definitively.
Almost like she wouldn’t marry me even if I was the last man on earth.
Well, then.
Fuck my life.
The air in my lungs slowly leaves my chest. I think about that night in her condo when she expressed concerns about me breaking her heart. It turns out, I should have been worried for me, not for her. How I feel right now, this feels like she just broke my heart, and I’m not sure what to do with myself.
Glancing back and forth between the two of them, they’re arguing in a way that’s similar to a dance. They’ve perfected this over the years. She knows what he’s going to say, and he knows how to push her buttons. They’ve forgotten I’m here, and I realize I don’t have to be.
I was here for her, and well, she made it perfectly clear what she ultimately thinks about me. About us. Do I think she likes me? Yes. Fond of me? Yes. Loves me? No. This realization has smacked me in the face. I had no idea all of this was one-sided, and it feels terrible.
What am I even doing here? She was right. She doesn’t need me.
Turning, I leave the house, and I don’t think either one even noticed. That’s fine. I don’t want to be here anymore anyway.
Pulling the plastic bag from my back pocket, I shake it and wait. It takes maybe two or three minutes, but here comes Rocky and Bullwinkle. I toss a handful on top of Winston’s car that I know will take them a while to eat, then walk down the driveway back to my house. Do they have plenty of fresh apples to munch on? Yes, but after my first year here, I quickly discovered they loved them dried. After five years, all it takes is for me to shake the bag, and they come running.
Shoving the bag in my pocket, I make my way back to my house. My eyes latch on to the rocking chairs on my porch, and I can just barely still see my mother sitting in hers. I wish she was here. I wish she was waiting for me when I walk back through that door. Not because I think she can fix my bruised heart, but because then I wouldn’t feel so alone.
Alone.
I’ve never really thought about it. I didn’t consider myself alone, but now that I’m here, the stillness and the silence are deafening. Cora likes to be alone. Instead of seeing it as a trait of her being an independent, strong woman, I should have seen it as a red flag. Because truly, what twentysomething woman buys a mountain house by herself and basically lives off the grid?
Does she go into town and do things? Yes, but she spends most of her days there alone. She never asks for help, she doesn’t want my help when it’s offered, and if I hadn’t been so blinded by long legs and a spunky attitude, I would have seen the truth of the situation. She said it to Winston, but it just never occurred to me.
She has chosen this life.
And it isn’t conducive to adding someone else like me in it.
Good for her, I guess.
But not good for me.
This stops now before I end up in too deep. It already hurts, but at least I know the truth.
Losing my mother took a lot out of me. I don’t need the stress of worrying about losing Goldie too. Not that I think she’s dying, but it’s possible one day she’ll just up and go and leave the mountain, and where will that leave me? Reality sucks, but she is a superstar, and maybe this is a phase. She has endless funds to do whatever she wants and go wherever she wants, and she has another home in New York.
Why would she want to stay here long term? It certainly won’t be because of me.
