The Fable of Us

“We’ve always been concerned about your life. All of us who really care about you.”


I was pulling another chunk of meat free before I’d finished chewing my first. “No, you all have always been concerned about certain parts of my life. Not all of it as a whole. Nice try.”

Ford rubbed the bridge of his nose and exhaled. “Why do you make things so difficult? Why do you act like you despise me?”

“It’s not an act.” I swirled the meat in the butter, cocking an eyebrow at him, then tossed the crab into my mouth.

Ford leaned forward, his eyes turning into a pair of smoldering embers. “What have I ever done to you, Clara Belle, besides look after you?”

I stopped chewing and had to resist the urge to pick up the largest crab leg I could and beat him over the head with it. Instead I grabbed the crab leg in question and broke it in half. “Gee whiz, I don’t know, Ford. What ever could you have done to me . . .?” I tapped my chin before breaking another part of the leg in half. “Oh, that’s right. You were fucking my sister behind my back.”

He threw his head back and groaned. “For the thousandth time, we were taking a break. How many times are you going to nail me to a cross for it? I’m marrying her, aren’t I? Charlotte and I make a hell of a lot more sense than you and I ever did. At least she appreciates what she’s got instead of pining after what she once had.”

I felt as if my body temperature had just jumped ten degrees. I could almost feel my head sweltering. “I guess your and my definition of taking a break is different because, see, my definition includes not climbing into your little brother’s bed less than seventy-two hours after said break went into effect.” I shot out of my chair and waved what was left of the massacred crab leg at him. “And you’re right, you and Charlotte do make sense. So much sense it’s staggering. You two truly are made for each other.”

Ford’s face went blank before it morphed into something that looked like hurt. I didn’t know why I was being so mean tonight. I was a better person than popping off nasty comment after nasty comment. Why was I getting caught up in it now?

While I stared at my plate of crab legs looking for an answer, Ford loosened his tie and sighed. “Listen, I’m sorry for the ways things went down. If I could, I’d go back and change how it happened because you’re right, you didn’t deserve that and it was a shitty thing for me to do . . .” His eyes narrowed on some distant spot in the water. “I guess I just got tired of playing second-string.”

I wanted to deny what he’d just said, but I couldn’t. It would have been as real a lie as ever there had been.

“He left you when you needed him most, and I spent two years with a woman who was still hung up on the guy who’d bailed on her. I spent two years trying to prove to her I had her back and wouldn’t bow out when things got tough. I spent two years flying across the country trying to prove that to her. I guess I was young and stupid and believed that with enough time, you’d come around.” Ford pulled at his tie again, undoing his collar button as well. “I got tired of pretending I wasn’t walking in Boone Cavanaugh’s shadow. I got tired of waiting to see if you could ever love me the way you’d loved him. I know I went about everything all wrong—with your sister, when we’d only just taken a break—but I did love you, Clara Belle. Some part of me always will.”

My eyes lifted from the crab to Ford. He was still focused on that distant spot in the night, taking another drink from his flask, but I caught a glimpse of the Ford I’d leaned on for support when Boone had left. The solid, unwavering Ford who would be at my side in a moment’s notice and was on-call twenty-four hours a day if I needed him. He’d made his share of fuck-ups . . . but so had I. Maybe it was time to let go of the grudge and move on. Maybe it was time to accept not everyone in the world was out to hurt me, and that sometimes timing and poor decisions were more to blame than a person intentionally setting out to hurt me.

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