Did my family weaken me? Possibly. Did they take advantage of me? Definitely. But I imagined arguing with Mary, and the thought held no promise. She would never change — none of them would. It was one thing to defend my own choices to someone sort of unaffiliated, like Jack. It was another thing entirely to convince Mary she'd done something to hurt me — she'd only blame me, tell me I was wrong for feeling the way I did. It was pointless, a waste of energy for an affirmation I didn't need.
The thought crossed my mind to leave, to remove myself from the situation entirely, because I knew it was toxic, whether I let it get to me or not. But imagining walking away from the kids set my heart on fire. Who would they turn to? Who would tuck them in and sing songs in the bathtub with them? I couldn't leave them with Mary alone to show them love, and Charlie would try, but he couldn't devote the time to them that I could. That was, if I even had somewhere to go, which I didn't.
And just like that, I was reminded of the corner I'd painted myself into.
Jack and I chatted a little before reaching the school, and we parted ways with my promise to text him to let him know how the camp-in went. And once the kids were safely in school, I was alone with my thoughts once again as I walked the blocks to the bookstore.
I smiled at the familiarity of the store when I walked through. An old Shins album played over the speakers, and I headed to the back to put my things away, stopping in the office for my register drawer. Cam smiled up at me from her desk.
"Hey, Elliot. How's everything going?"
"Good, thank you."
She handed me the plastic drawer full of money to count. "And your friend's dad?"
"He's well. We're throwing him a camping party tonight," I said with a smile, imagining the look on his face when he saw what we'd done. "Roasted marshmallows and stars and everything."
Cam smiled, propping her head on her hand. "That is a stellar idea."
I chuckled at the pun. "Thank you. It should be fun."
"Well, once things settle down, I'm going to hound you until you come to a singles night. The next one is an Austen party. We're having a costume contest and everything." She beamed, and I chuckled.
"I'm sure there will be hordes of men at this Jane Austen costume party."
"That's why it's also Viscount's Night — guys drink free before ten if they come in costume."
"That is genius."
"What can I say," she said theatrically, shaking her head like it was her burden. "This is my gift to the world. Well, this and getting people to tell me their secrets. Just yesterday I learned way more about Beau's foot fetish than I ever needed to know."
"Oh, my God," I said with a laugh.
"So, you're coming to the next one." She eyeballed me over the top of her glasses.
I sighed and turned my attention to the cash drawer. "We'll see."
She watched me for a second, assessing me. "Question."
"Answer."
"Who broke your heart?"
I blinked at her.
She waved a hand. "I'm sorry. You don't have to answer that. I'm also notorious for asking questions I don't need the answers to. It's just that I've been hurt too, and it took me a lot to get past it. I was … resistant to relationships for a long time, so … I get it. I mean, if that's what happened to you." Her hand waved again. "I'm rambling."
"It's okay. You're right," I said, surprising myself, still brave from finding my voice with Jack. "I was engaged a long time ago."
Her eyes widened. "I had no idea."
I nodded. "We were young, in high school, and my father didn't approve because of our age. We broke up when he left for the Army, and I didn't see him for a long time. Until just last week, actually. He's my best friend's brother. It's his father who's dying."
Her mouth popped open in surprise, and she covered it with her hand. "Oh, Elliot."
"And I think I'm still in love with him." The words were quiet, and I didn't know why I said them, the things I never said aloud. But she was safe in the sense that she was completely separate, unaffected, with only my best interest at heart. It hurt just as badly as I thought it would to speak the words, but I found comfort in the admission, an acknowledgement.
"Does he know?"
"I don't know. But it doesn't matter. There's just too much between us. Pain. Time. Change."
"Does he love you?"
I shook my head, my heart aching. "I can't know. Sometimes I think he does, and others …"
Her brows pinched together with sadness. "Elliot, that's …"
I tried to smile. "Honestly, it's all right. I wish things were different, but they're not."
She watched me for a beat. "You should talk to him."
A small laugh passed my lips. "I wrote him hundreds of letters when he left, and he never responded. That silence was my answer. And when we've tried to talk since he's been back, it's only devolved and dissolved into us hurting each other. It's over and done, years ago."
"But you love him. Maybe you're wrong. Maybe he loves you too, and if you guys just talked about it, everything would be fine. You could be together."
"It's so much more complicated than that."
She stood, her face quirked with purpose. "You've just got to find a way to tell him how you feel, that's all. At least find out for sure how he feels. Because look, what if you're wrong? What if there is a way and you just haven't found it yet? You can't give up, not if you really love him. You've got to fight for him."
Out of nowhere, I felt exhausted, weighed down by the futility of Wade, of Rick, of my life. "I don't know how much fight I've got. If I fight and lose—"
"But what if you fight and win? Isn't it worth knowing?"
"Of course, but … Cam, it's not the right time."
She took my hands. "Just think about it, okay? Be open to the possibility, and take the opportunity, if it arises. Does that seem reasonable?"
I squeezed her hands, thankful for someone who believed in me more than I believed in myself. "Very reasonable."
She smiled. "Good. And see? People love telling me their secrets."
And I couldn't help but laugh.
13
Truth in Darkness
In the darkness
In the cold grip of night
When the light disappears
And the shadows swallow the sharp edges
This is where
The truth lies.
* * *
-M. White
* * *
Wade
"Here," Sophie whispered as she handed me a tent and a couple of sleeping bags. We stood in the foyer, Elliot passing things in from the stoop that she'd brought, all my concentration spent on keeping my eyes everywhere but on her. "Take this into the living room. We'll put it together there."
"I'll bring up the trees, too," I whispered back, and she nodded, smiling.
It was too much to resist, and I looked at her, but she wouldn't meet my eyes — hers were on the ground as she brought in a couple more sleeping bags. I walked past her to deposit everything in the living room. She looked fresh and crisp, her cheeks rosy, dark hair falling over her shoulders, and I watched her as I passed through the room again, willing her to look at me. But she wouldn't, just kept her eyes on her task or on Sophie as they moved things into the living room quietly.
She had every right to ignore me.