He pursed his mouth and the gleam in his eyes reflected the reds and oranges of the sunset. I knew that he was referring to Sanders’ behavior. “I can’t keep being the one left behind. He does this. He leaves. He runs. He leaps without thinking …”
I remained quiet as he collected himself.
“And I’m always right behind him. I’m always following him into the wreckage. I can’t do it anymore,” he whispered to himself mostly.
“Nobody should be treated that way,” I said hollowly.
I was starting to see Sanders and Skip’s relationship for what it was. A co-dependency. Both of them enabling and holding the other back. This was why I couldn’t let Sanders stay for me. I didn’t want to be his temporary Band-Aid. Sanders struggled with handling his emotions. He had this incessant need to keep everyone around him isolated from his pain. I’d witnessed the turmoil destroying him the night at the playground. I thought he’d cracked open to let it all out and let me in … but he needed more than I could provide.
“He hides. He treats his pain like a wounded animal would. Only coming back out of hiding when he’s better. Like he has to be this magnanimous presence or nothing at all,” Skip said.
I nodded. My heart ached thinking of all the hours in bed we shared. The ways we loved each other’s body. How open he seemed when I first met him. Only to learn later that he was far more shut down and fragile than I ever imagined. If I thought I was locked down, I had nothing on Sanders. It made me want to be more willing to explore emotions other than anger and retreat. It helped me understand that my actions weren’t in a vacuum. I could hurt the ones I loved.
“You deserve better,” I finally said.
“I’m starting to understand that I do.” Skip smiled softly, that hidden, secret smile of someone falling in love and not really believing it. It was the smile I had worn all last week. I was happy for him. Lord knew, the man deserved to be happy. I hoped that the timing of this fallout with Sanders hadn’t ruined that for Skip.
Sometimes you meet a person and you know they’re meant to be in your life even if you aren’t sure how yet. I had felt that way when I met Gretchen as a little girl. A different sort of regret added to my melancholy.
“You deserve all the happiness,” I said holding up my beer to him.
“So do you,” he said and gently tapped my bottle with his own.
“Thanks.” We smiled at each other. “How are you? How are you feeling about the death of Sanders’ Dad? I’m sorry, I never learned his name.”
“His name was William too. Like me. When I moved in with them, they started calling me Skip. To avoid confusion.” He smiled against the lip of his bottle. “And for other reasons, but that’s a story for another time.”
“William was like a father for you too,” I said.
“Yeah.” He thought for a minute. “I’m sad. So sad. But … you know, it had sort of been coming for a while. I’m thankful for him in so many ways. He saved my life. He made me the man I am.” Emotions tightened his throat. After a few breaths he continued, “But William as I knew him had been gone for a while. I think I accepted that on some level. It may sound terrible but I feel at peace. I’m glad he’s finally with Eleanor again.”
“Was that his wife? Sanders’ mom?” I asked.
William and Eleanor. I ached for the couple I would never meet. Ached for their son. Ached for the bittersweet fact that they were reunited now.
“Yeah. I never met her but William talked about her a lot. More when it was just us two. I think, he was worried it would upset Sanders.”
I frowned.
“What?” he asked me.
“Sanders just made it seem like his dad was okay or maybe not okay after his mom died, but that he handled it well.”
Skip chewed his lip thoughtfully. “William? Yeah, I don’t think he liked for Sanders to see his pain. I think he was so worried what losing his mom might do to Sanders that William fought to be the best dad and keep all that hurt at bay. But he never stopped loving Eleanor. He talked about her all the time.”
“I wonder if Sanders knows this …” I said out loud but was thinking it mostly to myself. It didn’t match the image of the man Sanders had built for me of his father. Would it help if Sanders knew how much his dad had been actually hurting?
“It was why they moved back to America. William couldn’t handle being in Australia. He said it was too painful.”
I raised my eyebrows. “Sanders told me he got a job out in Denver and wanted to be closer to his family,” I told Skip.
Skip digested this information. “I guess in part. He needed family to help raise Sanders. But mostly it was because he missed her.”
“Sanders doesn’t know this,” I realized. It explained why he felt the need to always be the life of the party. The strong one. Although while it did explain a lot, it didn’t excuse his actions. Sanders needed to heal. He needed help that Skip and I couldn’t give him. We would be there for him and love him as best we could, but he was the one who needed towantto change.
We fell quiet again. Eventually, he said, “It’s not that I don’t like it in Green Valley. I actually think it would be great to move here. For a few reasons. But I have a life in Denver and he does too—”
“And he needs to fix some things.”
