Page 64 of Songs for Libby

Meanwhile, I was going out of my way, forcing myself to be more social than I’d been since…before. Heidi and I went to a movie one evening, and I had lunch with both her and Gemma a couple times. I was trying to prove to myself that I was fine, that I didn’t need Sean to come in and save me.

Anytime Sean and I saw each other outside the duplex, he would give me a smile. I would give him a confused, stubborn glance and walk on by.

Every night, I opened my window, and every night I heard his guitar and his voice drifting from his half of our duplex, floating into our backyard and through my bedroom window. I let him sing me to sleep.

♪♫♪

The stalemate broke seventeen days after he moved in. I knew he was in our shared backyard, weeding the little corner garden bed on my side. The last two weeks of having Sean lurking around each corner had given me ample time to dwell on past experiences with him. I’d been running through what had happened, through the what if’s and the why’s. So many questions for which I’d never demanded answers. One in particular had been eating away at me for years, and finally I had to ask. So I walked out my back door and crossed the lawn.

He saw me coming and smiled. “Good morning.”

“I need you to explain something to me,” I said without preamble, my arms folded tight across my chest, my legs stiff as I shifted from foot to foot.

His hand paused, no doubt surprised by the abrupt demand. Then he brushed his hands off and focused his attention on me. “Of course. Anything.”

“Why…” I breathed deep, digging for the courage to ask this question and listen to the answer. “Why did you do it?”

A soft, sad smile curved his mouth just a little. “I did a lot of things, Libby. Can you be more specific?”

“You were off the narcotics. I got you off of them.” I tried not to be accusatory, but one of my fingers shook at him, remembering how he had almost killed himself, and hating him for nearly throwing his life away when some people were stolen away without any warning at all. Like Jonas.

He nodded. “You did.”

“Then why?”

“That’s what addicts do. They find excuses,” he answered, his eyes clear and steady.

“So you’re an addict?”

“I am.”

How strange that those words would leave me relieved.

Still, I had more questions. “You told me, the day you showed up, that you had been sober for years. You said years.”

He nodded. “I did.”

“Why would you say that when it’s not true?”

“It is true.”

“I’ve seen you drinking. Photos in articles and magazines, of you at parties with a drink in your hand.” I held a clawed hand out in front of me, like I was holding my own invisible bottle. “So when you say you’ve been sober, do you mean you’re just sober from the narcotics? Because I thought sober meant sober.”

“It does. And I am. Those drinks never had alcohol in them.”

I breathed for a moment, trying to let that information settle into my new reality. “Okay,” I said, then turned around and went back into the house. I wanted to believe him. I didn’t know if I did.

♪♫♪

Two days later, I drove home in a haze. I was having a girl. My baby, the little it that was running around inside of me was a girl.

Parking my car in my driveway was mechanical. I looked up at my home—the house I would bring my baby home to. The house without a father. Jonas would have been elated at the news of a little girl. I wanted desperately to be elated. But it was just me and this empty house, and nothing was the way it was supposed to be.

I forced myself out of my car and found another bunch of flowers on my front step. An arrangement of autumn-colored blooms. Orange roses, yellow sunflowers, and red mums.

Tears stung my eyes and I blinked them back. Getting these flowers at this moment felt like a boon. I knew they were from Sean, and it was so sweet. It was also confusing. We’d had one conversation in the last two weeks and I hadn’t been particularly nice. He was here, trying to infiltrate my empty house and fill my lonely heart. But for how long?

I took the flowers inside and put them on my kitchen counter, then looked out the back windows.