Chapter 29
Marilyn
Driving to Riverbend via Bloomington isn’t exactly a direct route, but I made it. After a stop at the hospital to see both Justin and Devan, I’m now driving up the lane to their house. Devan told me that Ricky didn’t get the job at Parker and Stevens, and instead, he was going to work for Justin until Justin is well again.
Seeing the expression on Devan’s face and hearing her voice as she told me what a difference Ricky’s offer made to Justin, I didn’t have the heart to tell her that Ricky lied. Ricky was offered a job, better than the one he interviewed for.
I pull up next to Devan’s house like I’ve done all my life. The lights are on in the kitchen. There is something about it that fills me with contentment. Devan and Justin have changed it, but the house still holds the glow of the home it’s always been.
My overnight bag is in the back seat. Biting my lip, I debate whether to take it up to the house with me. I don’t want to assume that Ricky wants me to stay. Then again, it is the weekend, and last weekend, he stayed at my place.
Grabbing my purse and the overnight bag, I throw the straps over my shoulder and walk through the chill of the night up onto the back porch. Without knocking, I open the screen door and then the solid door.
“Hi,” I say, seeing Ricky sitting at the kitchen table. I begin to unbutton my coat.
Ricky inhales and stands. “You didn’t need to come back.”
“I wanted to for Devan…and you.” Setting the overnight bag on the floor, I dig into my purse. “I brought you your phone and charger. I stopped by your apartment this morning.”
His hair is standing up as if he’s been running his fingers through it, but it’s the tiredness in his eyes and the slowness in his step that catch my attention.
I lift the phone and charger toward him and tilt my head. “Are you okay?”
He comes closer, taking the phone. “Thank you. You didn’t need to do that.” The energy and vitality that differentiates Ricky are what is missing.
“I miss your text messages, and you can’t text without a phone.”
His forehead lowers. “Marilyn, I…” He inhales and runs his fingers through his hair before straightening his shoulders. “I’m going to move out of my apartment. I talked to Justin, and I’m going to do what I said.”
I swallow. “Devan told me about your offer to Justin. She said it means a lot.”
Ricky shrugs.
I take a step closer. “I brought my overnight bag. I didn’t want to assume, but you stayed at my place last weekend. And it’s not like we didn’t already christen their shower.”
“I don’t think it’s a good idea.”
“Don’t push me away, Ricky. We can make it through this.”
He turns a complete circle and faces me, his tone louder. “No. I made a move on you because I thought I could actually be someone…someone you would be proud to be with.”
My chest aches and my throat constricts. “You are.”
“I’m going backward, Marilyn.” His words grow louder. “I’m not going to pull you down with me.”
I raise my voice to match his. “You’re not going backward. You’re helping a friend.”
He lifts his arms and swings them from side to side. “I’m back in my childhood home.”
“Yes, you are. You’re here because you chose to be. That’s not backward.” When he doesn’t respond, I tilt my chin toward his phone. “There are calls on there from Mr. Stevens.”
“You snooped in my phone?”
“No,” I say quickly. “I spoke to Mr. Stevens this afternoon.”
“About what?”
I sigh, unsure why he isn’t seeing the bigger picture. “About you.”
“What the hell, Marilyn? You have no right.”
Stepping closer, I reach out, laying my hand on his chest. “Ricky, it’s not bad. It’s good. Mr. Stevens came to me.”
He steps back from my touch and shakes his head. “What’s good about what happened? What’s good about Justin in the hospital or me missing the opportunity I wanted?”
I force a smile. “That’s the thing. Once I explained the situation to Mr. Stevens...”
Ricky runs his fingers over his facial hair and stares at me. “It was none of your fucking business to do that. I don’t want a job because you got it for me. Fuck, people are going to think I slept my way into the position.”
My blood heats at his insanity. “Really? Did you fuck Mr. Stevens? Or was it Mr. Parker?”
“No. You know what I mean!” he yells, louder than necessary.
“Of course you didn’t.” My flesh feels tight at this unexpected argument. “You showed them that you have a subset of knowledge they’ve been looking for.”
Ricky shakes his head. “Unbelievable.”
“I didn’t get you the job. You got you the job. I just gave Mr. Stevens the information to understand why you would turn down such a great offer.”
Ricky clenches his jaw. “You want me to take the job and leave Justin to lose everything?”
I stare in disbelief. “Do you think I want Justin and Devan to lose everything?” I motion around the newly renovated kitchen. “Look what they’ve done. I want them to keep the farm and for you to have the position you want.”
His lips come together as the muscles pull tight in his jaw. “I see. You want me to have that position, because you don’t want to tell people you’re dating a farmer.”
“What the hell?”
“That’s it. You’ve wanted out of Riverbend for as long as I can remember. The last thing you want is for me to be back here. So you went out of your way to smooth things over behind my back and get me a job that you find more prestigious.”
Turning around, I lift my overnight bag strap to my shoulder. “Fuck you, Ricky Dunn. I don’t know if you’re full of yourself or you’re drowning in disappointment. Mr. Stevens came to me. I answered his questions. If you weren’t so damn deep in your pity party, you might realize that what I did was for you, not for me. You really think my friends would give a shit if I dated a farmer? Maybe you’ve forgotten, but one of my best friends is married to a farmer.”
“Marilyn.” His tone is softer.
“Go to hell.” I fight the tears pricking the backs of my eyes. “I gave you another chance. I only asked for one thing—not to hurt me again. Well, congratulations, you’re hurting me by pushing me away. Have a nice fucking life.” Spinning toward the door, I open the solid door and push open the screen.
The door slams behind me.
I’m not sure if Ricky follows me or not. I don’t turn around or even look at the house until I’m in my car. My hands tremble on the steering wheel. Despite my blurry vision, I throw the car into reverse and do a three-point turn. My foot slams down on the gas pedal, leaving Ricky behind, where I should have kept him.
At the end of the lane by the white barn, I stop the car and send my mom a text message.
Sorry for the short notice. I visited the hospital, but I need to get back to Carmel. The new tax rules were just released. I have a weekend of exciting reading.
I even add a laughing emoji.
Hitting my playlist, I listen to that new album again. The tears keep me from singing, but I don’t need to. I can feel the words “My Boy Only Breaks His Favorite Toys” in my soul.
My body is still shaking by the time I make it back to my apartment. I’m not even sure how I made it home. The entire drive is a blur. Grabbing my bags, I walk back into my apartment building and, finally, into my apartment.
After locking the door, I allow myself the breakdown I was trying to temper in the car. With my back against the door, I slide to the floor. My overnight bag and purse are at my side as I pull my knees to my chest and lower my forehead.
“The hell with him,” I tell myself.
Reaching for my phone, I want to call someone who will understand. I realize I can’t call Devan. She has enough to worry about, and in the depths of my soul, I don’t want to call Jill and admit I was wrong about Ricky, that he played me again. More tears come as memories of the last few weeks replay in my mind.
“Stupid.”
I was an idiot to trust him, to put my faith in him.
Digging my phone from my purse, I hold out hope that maybe he called or messaged. I don’t know if I’d return his call, but…
The only message on my phone is from my mom, telling me to drive safely and let her know when I arrive. Yes, I’m a twenty-five-year-old woman who still texts her mother. I send the text message.
Home safe, Mom. Good night.
Turning off my phone, I go on a search for ice cream or wine, something to eat or drink with my bath.