“Claire—”
“No, hear me out. I think about my time with Ben—as short as it was—and all I gave up to marry him, be with him, and—you know what? I wouldn’t trade a lifetime of things or experiences or accolades for a second of what we had when he was alive, when we were together.”
“Honey—”
“And you won’t even consider the possibility that your dreams might be made better, that life and the living of it can be enriched if you have someone to share it with. Why is that?”
“I—”
“I’m not saying Duane Winston is your Ben. I’m not saying that. But watching you shut down and withhold yourself from the possibility of love and being loved, that makes me sad. That makes me sad for you. I know you want adventure, I know you want to see the world. But love is the greatest adventure, where you risk the most for the greatest reward. What good will all this exceptional living do if you’re doing it only for yourself?”
“I don’t know! Okay?” I bellowed, chaotically throwing my hands around. “You’re right, I don’t know what I’m missing. I don’t know what might have been between us, if I’d gotten out of my own way, and just let things be. But I do know that I will suffocate here. I know I cannot stay. And I know that being dishonest with Duane, or being dishonest with anyone—even if it’s a lie of omission—isn’t right. It isn’t fair, not to him. He wanted to court me. He brought my mother flowers. His sights were set on the long term, and I…” I sighed pitifully and shook my head, glancing at my fingers.
“And you what? Is the problem that you can’t see yourself with Duane Winston in the long term?”
“No. The problem is that I can see myself with Duane Winston in the long term. I can see a house with a garage where he fixes up old cars. I can see a home office where I grade papers and tutor kids. I see a kitchen where I bake Sunday meatloaf or roast chicken, and a deck where he grills ribs and steaks. I can see a garden in the backyard and white picket fences.”
“And that terrifies you.”
“And that terrifies me. Because as pretty as the picture is, I would hate it. I would hate owning stuff that owns me. I would hate knowing the whole world was out there and I’d locked myself in a cage—even if the cage was gold, and pretty, with an herb garden and a flowerbed…”
She didn’t respond, not for a long time. We both stared out the windshield in strained silence and watched as groups of locals passed by the front of her car on their way to jam night. Judging by the amount of people, the place was going to be packed. This was a good and a bad thing.
Likely, by the time I made it to the food line, all the coleslaw would be gone. The coleslaw was my favorite of the salads.
However, on the plus side, if the place was packed and Duane was in attendance, it would make avoiding him a lot easier.
Eventually she broke our stalemate. “What if the house had a hot tub?”
I slid my eyes to the side, saw her giving me a conciliatory smile, one of surrender and apology.
I returned her smile and hoped mine also conveyed similar sentiments of reconciliation. “Well, now that changes everything. I’d give up the world for a hot tub, but only if it was also a time machine.”
She laughed, shook her head at me as she unbuckled her seatbelt. “Why is that movie so funny? It’s so stupid, and yet it makes me laugh every time I watch it. I don’t understand myself sometimes.”
“Beats me.” I shrugged, opening my door and straightening out of the car, preparing my resolve to face whatever labyrinth of funky-feelings lie ahead.
***
I’d braced myself for seeing Duane. I’d expected to see him around every corner or the sound of his conversation to greet me through every door.
But he didn’t. He wasn’t there. At least I didn’t see him.
My heart seized a bit when I spotted Cletus strumming his banjo in one of the rooms, providing accompaniment for his brother Billy on vocals. I decided to torture myself by staying in the room and listening to Billy Winston sing. The man could sing. Yet this was an exercise in torture because there was something about the way he moved that reminded me of Duane.
Nevertheless, no music played that only I could hear when Billy walked by my chair during a break, stopped, and gave me a faint smile of acknowledgement. I felt nothing beyond friendly curiosity when he crossed to me, his hands in his pockets, and leveled me with his startling stare.