Pocketful of Sand
Page 51
- Background:
- Text Font:
- Text Size:
- Line Height:
- Line Break Height:
- Frame:
“I’ve only seen him a handful of times since…since the accident. He just lost it. We both did, I guess. Losing a child…”
I close my eyes and I push the refrigerator door shut. I don’t even bother turning to face her. I don’t want to see the pain. I can already imagine what it must look like–a mother’s face when she talks about the child she lost.
“I couldn’t stand to come back here. He couldn’t stay away. We just sort of silently agreed to heal however we could, wherever we could. But I never stopped loving him. And I think we’re both ready to try again. When I talked to him last week–”
“Last week?” I interrupt, my stomach twisting into a bundle of knots.
“Yes. We’ve kept in touch, of course. I wanted to make sure he was okay. He’s never wanted me to come here, to visit him here, but it’s Christmas. And I hate the thought of him spending another Christmas alone, so I thought I’d surprise him.”
Oh, he’ll be surprised, alright.
Or will he? Is this why he started pulling away? Did it really have anything to do with getting too close to us? Or did he think he was on the verge of getting busted?
The thought makes the room dip and sway behind my closed lids.
“Maybe I shouldn’t assume that there’s something between you, but if there is, I want you to know that I’m not trying to hurt you. Cole is a gorgeous, charismatic man. A woman would have to be blind not to see that. But we have a lot of history together.”
I nod, trying hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I completely understand.”
“I was hoping you would.” I hear the tread of her soft-soled shoes as she walks toward the living room. I collect myself and smile as I turn toward her. “It was…it was nice meeting you, Eden. I wish you the best of luck.”
“You, too,” I say as sincerely as I can. And for the most part I mean it. This woman has lost enough. I won’t stand in the way of her attempts to salvage her marriage. Now that I know that there is one.
“I’ll see myself out.”
I wait until I hear her engine start before I go to Emmy’s room. She’s drawing a turtle, a pretty good one actually. I plaster a bright, excited smile on my face. “Hey, you wanna go do some Christmas shopping in Ashbrook today?”
I have to get out of here. I have to be somewhere that I can’t sit and think, that I can’t see Cole and his wife from my window. I don’t need that visual to add to my torture.
“Yeah!” she exclaims, hopping off her bed and racing for the door.
“Coat, young lady.”
She runs with a boot in one hand to get her coat from the hall closet and then runs back to finish putting it on. I fight back tears as I remind myself that Emmy and I have done just fine by ourselves these last two years. We’ll be just fine for the next two, as well. And the two after that, and the two after that.
That’s my mantra all the way to Ashbrook and all the way home three hours later.
I’ve been lying in bed, awake, in the dark, for hours. I didn’t want Cole to see lights on if he should happen to pass by. If he should happen to care.
I figure he does. He’ll feel guilty most likely. Try to explain so that I won’t hate him. That would bother him, I think. Of course, what the hell do I know? It seems that I know very little about the man after all. I keep getting revelation after revelation, very few of them good ones.
And yet, I still love him. I do. In fact, except for this last bomb, I think his brokenness may have made me love him even more. If there’s one thing I can relate to, it’s brokenness. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. I’ve lived it. It’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember. And I didn’t think it could get any worse.
I was wrong.
I hold my breath when I hear the soft knock on the front door. I don’t move a muscle, as if he’d be able to sense it all the way outside. The minutes tick by like shotgun blasts, each one rattling my nerves. After a couple of minutes, I breathe more easily. Surely he’s gone. Surely he left when I didn’t answer the door.
But then I hear the scrape of metal on metal. A key, sliding into the lock. I roll over and curl up on my side, pulling the covers up close to my face, watching inconspicuously from mostly-closed lids. From my bedroom, I can see the edge of the front door. I see it swing open and then swing quickly closed. I hear the soft pad of shod feet moving almost silently through the living room. I see the shadow–Cole’s big, broad-shouldered shadow–move into the mouth of the hallway and head my way.
I make my breathing as slow and deep as I can, not an easy thing considering how my heart is galloping like a runaway horse. Through the slits of my vision, I see Cole stop in the doorway. He watches me for ninety-four long seconds, each of which I count as I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. With each breath, I can smell the unique scent of his skin–salt and soap. Like the sea and the man have become one. Both big enough to drown in. Both strong enough to carry me away. Both as turbulent as the eye of a hurricane.
“Eden?” he finally whispers in his sensual sandpaper voice. I let my lids drift all the way closed. Just my name on his lips, covered in pain, dripping in regret, is enough to undo me.
But I can’t be undone. Brooke is a game-changer. Cole is married. There’s nothing else to say.
I barely hear Cole cross to the bed. I hear the friction of material against skin as he kneels on the floor right beside me. I keep my eyes closed, my breathing even, and I wait.
I close my eyes and I push the refrigerator door shut. I don’t even bother turning to face her. I don’t want to see the pain. I can already imagine what it must look like–a mother’s face when she talks about the child she lost.
“I couldn’t stand to come back here. He couldn’t stay away. We just sort of silently agreed to heal however we could, wherever we could. But I never stopped loving him. And I think we’re both ready to try again. When I talked to him last week–”
“Last week?” I interrupt, my stomach twisting into a bundle of knots.
“Yes. We’ve kept in touch, of course. I wanted to make sure he was okay. He’s never wanted me to come here, to visit him here, but it’s Christmas. And I hate the thought of him spending another Christmas alone, so I thought I’d surprise him.”
Oh, he’ll be surprised, alright.
Or will he? Is this why he started pulling away? Did it really have anything to do with getting too close to us? Or did he think he was on the verge of getting busted?
The thought makes the room dip and sway behind my closed lids.
“Maybe I shouldn’t assume that there’s something between you, but if there is, I want you to know that I’m not trying to hurt you. Cole is a gorgeous, charismatic man. A woman would have to be blind not to see that. But we have a lot of history together.”
I nod, trying hard to swallow past the lump in my throat. “I completely understand.”
“I was hoping you would.” I hear the tread of her soft-soled shoes as she walks toward the living room. I collect myself and smile as I turn toward her. “It was…it was nice meeting you, Eden. I wish you the best of luck.”
“You, too,” I say as sincerely as I can. And for the most part I mean it. This woman has lost enough. I won’t stand in the way of her attempts to salvage her marriage. Now that I know that there is one.
“I’ll see myself out.”
I wait until I hear her engine start before I go to Emmy’s room. She’s drawing a turtle, a pretty good one actually. I plaster a bright, excited smile on my face. “Hey, you wanna go do some Christmas shopping in Ashbrook today?”
I have to get out of here. I have to be somewhere that I can’t sit and think, that I can’t see Cole and his wife from my window. I don’t need that visual to add to my torture.
“Yeah!” she exclaims, hopping off her bed and racing for the door.
“Coat, young lady.”
She runs with a boot in one hand to get her coat from the hall closet and then runs back to finish putting it on. I fight back tears as I remind myself that Emmy and I have done just fine by ourselves these last two years. We’ll be just fine for the next two, as well. And the two after that, and the two after that.
That’s my mantra all the way to Ashbrook and all the way home three hours later.
I’ve been lying in bed, awake, in the dark, for hours. I didn’t want Cole to see lights on if he should happen to pass by. If he should happen to care.
I figure he does. He’ll feel guilty most likely. Try to explain so that I won’t hate him. That would bother him, I think. Of course, what the hell do I know? It seems that I know very little about the man after all. I keep getting revelation after revelation, very few of them good ones.
And yet, I still love him. I do. In fact, except for this last bomb, I think his brokenness may have made me love him even more. If there’s one thing I can relate to, it’s brokenness. I’ve seen it. I’ve felt it. I’ve lived it. It’s been my constant companion for as long as I can remember. And I didn’t think it could get any worse.
I was wrong.
I hold my breath when I hear the soft knock on the front door. I don’t move a muscle, as if he’d be able to sense it all the way outside. The minutes tick by like shotgun blasts, each one rattling my nerves. After a couple of minutes, I breathe more easily. Surely he’s gone. Surely he left when I didn’t answer the door.
But then I hear the scrape of metal on metal. A key, sliding into the lock. I roll over and curl up on my side, pulling the covers up close to my face, watching inconspicuously from mostly-closed lids. From my bedroom, I can see the edge of the front door. I see it swing open and then swing quickly closed. I hear the soft pad of shod feet moving almost silently through the living room. I see the shadow–Cole’s big, broad-shouldered shadow–move into the mouth of the hallway and head my way.
I make my breathing as slow and deep as I can, not an easy thing considering how my heart is galloping like a runaway horse. Through the slits of my vision, I see Cole stop in the doorway. He watches me for ninety-four long seconds, each of which I count as I inhale deeply and exhale slowly. With each breath, I can smell the unique scent of his skin–salt and soap. Like the sea and the man have become one. Both big enough to drown in. Both strong enough to carry me away. Both as turbulent as the eye of a hurricane.
“Eden?” he finally whispers in his sensual sandpaper voice. I let my lids drift all the way closed. Just my name on his lips, covered in pain, dripping in regret, is enough to undo me.
But I can’t be undone. Brooke is a game-changer. Cole is married. There’s nothing else to say.
I barely hear Cole cross to the bed. I hear the friction of material against skin as he kneels on the floor right beside me. I keep my eyes closed, my breathing even, and I wait.
