I didn’t have anything else to say, and nothing had been resolved, nothing talked about really. But it was enough, and I stood, ready to shower and turn in for the night.
“Yvette and Davie are having a little bonfire tonight,” Momma Von said when I started down the stairs. “You should come. It’s been a while since you’ve seen Benjamin. He’s so big now.”
“I’m tired,” I answered. That was my answer for everything.
“Wren will be there,” she said, but I kept my eyes on my boots as I kept walking. “If that changes your mind at all.”
“It doesn’t.”
“Okay,” she added with a laugh. “So I’ll see you there later then?”
“Goodnight, Momma Von.”
She just laughed harder, and I shook my head, dislodging the thought before it had a chance to even attempt to stick. I hadn’t been to a bonfire in years, hadn’t been in a group setting with anyone but Momma Von and Ron in years. I’d tried a few times before, but every time I remembered why I couldn’t.
Because Dani couldn’t.
How could I live a normal life, a fun life, one with laughter and drinks and friends and fun when she laid buried six feet under less than a mile away?
The answer was that I couldn’t, and I repeated that over and over all the way back to my cabin.
REAL
re·al
Adjective
Not artificial, fraudulent, or illusory : genuine
I never realized how much more I had to learn about myself, not until I spent nearly every second of every single night alone.
The days were easy, because there was sunshine and other people to talk to. Even when the clouds hung low over the cabins or the sky opened up and poured down an afternoon of rain, there was always someone around. Momma Von on her porch, or Yvette and Davie walking Benjamin in his stroller, or Tucker swinging by to see if I wanted to do anything, which I never did, not with him, anyway. I kept myself busy during the day, working on little projects around the cabin and enjoying the scenery.
Nights were the hardest.
I was thankful the days were long, at least. The sun didn’t sink behind the mountains until around nine each night, but as soon as it did, I’d be alone with my thoughts. Sketching still wasn’t happening, which meant the thoughts I was left alone with weren’t even productive ones. No, usually they were filled with everything I’d yet to truly face—like my fear of failure, not only as a wife but as an artist.
Broken was the best way to describe how I felt.
I couldn’t sketch, couldn’t articulate my feelings, couldn’t fix everything in my cabin, couldn’t stay in the cabin for longer than three months anyway. I didn’t have a home, didn’t have a future that spanned further than tomorrow. Everything I thought my life would be, who I thought I would be, it had all vanished.
I didn’t have a husband. I didn’t have a child. I didn’t have a five-year plan. I didn’t have anything I thought I would at twenty-seven. And some nights, when I was weakest, I didn’t even remember why. Why did I leave? Was I really that unhappy? Every couple has problems, that’s what everyone around me said. Was I just immature, or stupid, throwing away a marriage I should have “fought for?”
But I did fight for it, for years. And years, and years. No matter what I did, or who I was, it was never enough for Keith. It never would have been, not until I’d given him every last piece of myself so he could rebuild me the way he saw fit.
Yeah, nights were the hardest.
Which was why I was more than excited to be sitting around a low-key bonfire at Yvette and Davie’s.
There were a dozen of us seated around the fire, with another small group playing drinking games on a long table behind us and a few more in the hot tub. I was buzzed, pleasantly so, and so was Yvette, which I learned quickly didn’t happen often for her.
“Oh, yeah, rub it in,” Davie teased as she popped open another beer. “Just remember paybacks are a bitch.”
“Don’t be salty because I beat you fair and square in rock, paper, scissors for baby duty tonight,” she teased right back, blowing him a kiss with a wink. He smacked her ass playfully as she scampered back to the hot tub, baby monitor still glued to his other hand.
“Well, you guys aren’t adorable or anything,” I said.
Davie shrugged, beaming as he watched Yvette slip into the hot tub with a splash and a laugh. “She’s the adorable one. I’m just the lucky son of a bitch she decided to drag around with her.”
“You guys met in high school, right?”
“Yeah,” he said, a gleam in his eyes. He was still watching her across the fire. “She could have gotten better than me. Still could, but for some reason she picked me out of the sea of guys clamoring for her attention. I didn’t get it back then, and I don’t guess I ever will.”
“You ever feel like you’re growing apart?” I asked before I realized how rude I was. “Sorry,” I clarified when Davie’s brows bent together. “I just mean that you met so young, and I know a lot changes in those years.” At least, they did for me and Keith.
“No, I get it. I know the statistics on high school sweethearts.” He shrugged, tossing the baby monitor between his hands like a football. “We’ve grown up a lot, been through a lot of shit, and there were some trying times. But at the end of the day, our love was more important than anything else. She’s always supported me and I’ve always supported her, and that’s all that either of us needed, I guess.”
I nodded, feeling a dark pit in the center of my stomach. “Can I ask you something?”
“Shoot.”
I shifted, uncrossing my legs just to cross them the other way. “What would you do if Yvette told you she didn’t want to stay home with Benjamin anymore? What if she, I don’t know, decided she wanted to write blogs for wine magazines and travel the world tasting different wine and touring wineries?”
The corner of Davie’s mouth quirked and he glanced from where I sat over to Yvette again. “I’d sign us up for a credit card with air miles.”
Tucker plopped down into the lawn chair next to me before I had a chance to respond, throwing his arm around my shoulders. “How you liking your first cabin party, city girl?”
I laughed uneasily, shifting out from under his arm, leaning toward the cooler under the pretense that I needed another beer. I didn’t, not only because the one in my hand was nearly full but because my buzz was strong and steady. Still, I chugged what was left as I reached into ice chest for a new one.
“It’s fun. Thanks for inviting me.”
“You’re welcome any time,” Davie said, but a sharp cry rang through the monitor. He waved it in the air like a trophy. “Duty calls. You,” he added, pointing directly at Tucker. “Behave yourself until I get back. Seriously, don’t scare her away. It’s not even midnight yet.”
Tucker threw his hands up. “I am a perfect gentleman,” he said, eyes low and grin wide.
Davie rolled his eyes and mouthed to me that he’d be right back.