Page 91 of My Unfinished Heart

“Can I have a word with you first?”

The formality in her tone spiked fear inside me. I’d always known I’d wear out my welcome eventually, but knowing that wouldn’t make hearing her say it any easier. I sat down on the couch, and she sat in the adjacent chair, aware by then of my need for personal space in pretty much every situation. “Did you enjoy dinner?”

I swallowed the rising bile in the back of my throat. “Yes. Thanks for including me.”

She smiled, the warmth of it melting her eyes. “I’ve been wanting to talk to you today, but you and West might as well go to the bathroom together. Don’t ever see either one of you by yourselves.”

I felt like I was supposed to smile, but I couldn’t manage it.

“We missed you Wednesday night,” she said. “And Tuesday night. Everything okay?”

I nodded.

Her gaze sharpened, and her head cocked to the side, “You think you’re not welcome here?”

“I…” I rubbed my sweating hands on my flannel pants, unsure how to answer her.

She began to tap her temple with her fingertip. It was something she did when she was concerned about forgetting an ingredient while she was cooking. It was what she did when she was nervous. “I guess I should just say what’s on my mind, shouldn’t I?” She took a long, deep breath. “Archer. I’d really prefer if you spent fewer nights at your house.”

“I understand,” I said, because I wasn’t really listening.

“I made up the guest room so you don’t have to listen to West snore all night. Although, I’ll warn you, sometimes two doors shut between you doesn’t help as much as you’d think it should. That’s what God gave us earplugs for though, isn’t it? I got you some if you need ‘em,” she added in a conspiratorial whisper.

I frowned at her, completely lost.

“How often do you think you’ll need to put in an appearance at your house? I wouldn’t put it past your mother to accuse me of kidnapping you.”

“Kidnapping me?”

“One night a week maybe? Two?”

“To stay here?” I asked.

She wasn’t listening to me, either. “I don’t think it should be more than two. I get antsy after one—just ask West.”

I finally realized we were having two different conversations. I held up both my hands to slow everything down. “Hold on, Nell. Just stop.” I grabbed at the back of my head, and the way she looked at me, like she finally saw how confused I was—the understanding in her eyes and the sympathy… It clicked.

She wasn’t kicking me out. She was asking to me stay.

“I have a better idea,” she said, once she knew we were on the same page. “You just keep your things there, stop by there after school, wave at your brother, repack your bag, and be home in time for dinner.” She nodded her head. Subject closed.

I was speechless.

She stood up and stretched, letting go a loud yawn. “Happy Thanksgiving, baby. You get some rest. Your room’s all ready.”

Regarding my current housing situation with Jayne, I can see that while not offering to give me the guest room back, Helen is showing me once again, that I don’t have to keep living the way I have been.

“There’s someone else,” I tell her. “Someone I knew a long time ago.”

“And?”

“And I saw him again the other day, and it just made me think…” I sigh, putting my head into my hands.

“Oh, good Lord,” she mutters reaching out to rub my back. “Baby boy… I never have seen you like this.”

“It's just a lot.” I press my thumb and middle finger into my temples, trying to get my grinding headache to let up so I can put some words together. “I can’t focus or figure out what to do. Nothing is how I want it to be. Do you ever feel like that?”

“From time to time. You need some help?”