Chapter 35
CHAPTER THIRTY-FIVE
JOURNEY, “OPEN ARMS”
Eve
As expected, the turkey was dry, the stuffing was soggy, and the potatoes were instant. But the pumpkin pie was surprisingly delicious.
And the six people gathered around my table were exactly who I needed—sinners with a desire to do better, and a need for other non-judgmental sinners to hold their hand, share space, and let them know they’re not alone.
Raymond said the Serenity Prayer before we ate.
After the meal, some of us gathered in the common area to play board games and work on puzzles. I thought I’d spend the day in my room crying and feeling sorry for myself. Instead, I (appropriately) gave thanks for Kyle loving me unconditionally. My parents for doing what they felt was best. And, of course, to God for granting me this new perspective.
For surrounding me with people who care.
And for saving my life.
“My family is here, if you’ll excuse me,” Raymond said, pushing back in his chair.
I continued to work on the autumn tree puzzle with two other people until they left me to visit with family as well. Finding another piece of the puzzle, I leaned over the table to place it next to an edge piece.
“I colored this for you.”
I froze, except for my heart. It lurched into my throat at the sound of Josh’s voice. When I inched my head in his direction, he grinned, handing me a picture of an apple orchard and a bouquet of red roses.
“Thank you,” I whispered because I could barely speak past the lump of emotion in my throat.
He hugged me, and I closed my eyes while running my hands through his hair. I knew Kyle was standing behind him, but I couldn’t look at him.
Not yet.
There weren’t enough boxes of tissues in the entire rehab clinic to handle the tears I knew I’d cry when that moment came.
And it came all too quickly because Josh released me, and my gaze lifted.
“Hey, beautiful,” Kyle said, unzipping his Carhartt jacket. He no longer had his arm in a sling.
“Hey,” I said, but my voice immediately broke, and I cupped a hand at my mouth. I refused to blink, but it didn’t matter. The tears freely flowed down my face.
Kyle didn’t hesitate for a second before his good hand cupped the side of my face, his thumb smearing my tears before he cradled the back of my head, and his injured arm hooked my waist. I threw my arms around him and buried my face in his neck.
“Oh, baby,” he whispered, kissing the top of my head.
Everything at that stupid rehab center peeled away a layer of my skin—the scars and stubborn calluses—until I felt exposed and raw. My time there changed me forever. I had to experience all the emotions from the previous four years without the numbing effect of alcohol. And I wondered what else I robbed myself of feeling completely.
Joy?
Peace?
Love?
“Are you feeling better?” Josh asked.
I released Kyle and wiped my tears while sniffling. Then I turned toward Josh, sitting at the table and looking at the puzzle while he wriggled out of his coat.
“I am,” I said with a smile, just above a whisper.
A new round of tears hit hard and fast when I saw Josh’s arm and the pink raised scars.
“Are you coming home today?” Josh asked.
My gaze shifted from his arm to him, and I quickly wiped my tears again while shaking my head. “Not yet. But soon. How is your arm?” I sat next to him.
He looked at it. “It’s getting better.”
“That’s good,” I said past the lump in my throat.
“The doctor said he’ll have minimal to no long-term scars,” Kyle said as we sat at the table with Josh.
Was he saying that to make me feel better? It didn’t. The sound of Josh screaming would stay in my head forever.
I combed my hair with my fingers. “I wasn’t expecting visitors.”
Josh rested his elbows on the table and his face in his hands. “You look pretty.”
My heart twisted, wringing more tears from my eyes because he was so sweet, and I couldn’t stop looking at his arm.
Those scars could have been on his face.
Kyle mimicked Josh’s pose and grinned. “I second that opinion.”
I blushed and laughed. “Thank you. How’s your arm?”
“Better. I’m doing my exercises for it.”
My smile faded. “You shouldn’t have carried me. That was too much.”
Kyle twisted his lips and bobbed his head. “Perhaps it was too much, but it’s exactly what I should have done, and that’s why I did it. The alternative wasn’t an option.”
Letting me die.
When Josh shifted his attention to the puzzle again, I curled my hair behind my ears and stared at my hands folded on my lap. “I’ve been rehearsing so many apologies in my head.” I squinted and shook my head. “But you caught me off guard today, and I want to get it right when I say it?—”
“Eve, you don’t owe anyone an apology for anything.”
“I do.” I lifted my gaze to his. “I really do. I let my past, my ego, and a million other things lead me down the wrong road. And I blamed everyone except myself. So I need to take responsibility for what I did wrong and the people I hurt.” I glanced out the window at the gray, overcast sky. “I fell so hard for you,” I whispered.
“You fell?” Josh asked without looking up.
We chuckled. There was too much to say that wasn’t for Josh’s ears. And I didn’t know if I’d ever get to say it. He was leaving, and I was … well, I didn’t know anything beyond that moment. My time at rehab taught me to slow down, be grateful for tiny accomplishments, and not buy tomorrow’s problems.
Still, I wanted to ask him what my dad said, if he’d talked to his brother, and if he would miss me.
“Did you have turkey today?” I asked.
“Your mom snuck us two plates filled with turkey and trimmings,” Kyle said.
I told myself to be happy for them and not feel slighted by my parents not visiting me with a plate of home-cooked food. I told them not to, but I no longer meant it.
“However, she only brought one piece of pie,” he continued. “And she made it abundantly clear the pie was for Josh.”
I grinned.
“It was yummy,” Josh said, finding a piece to the puzzle.
I nodded. “My mom makes good pie.”
“As good as yours?” Kyle lifted an eyebrow.
“Pfft. Of course not.” I held a serious face for a few seconds before cracking a grin.
Kyle and I stared at each other for a while without saying anything. I would have given all of my tomorrows to have known what he was thinking.
“Have you made friends?” he asked, breaking the silence.
“Sure. But they can’t be lifelong friends. I think it’s a bad idea for addicts to be friends. We’re all a bunch of bad influences.”
He nodded, brow furrowed. “I was a bad influence.”
The can of beer in exchange for a blow job.
I didn’t mention that in counseling when we discussed people in my life who were enablers of my addiction.
“I hid it well,” I said because I didn’t blame him, and I didn’t want him to blame himself.
“You didn’t,” he replied.
I didn’t argue. What was the point?
“I hear you’re moving home.” It took everything inside of me to bring that up. It was the equivalent of tearing my heart out of my chest and asking Kyle to crush it with his boot.
But it was one of several elephants in the room. Therapy had done a lot for me in three weeks, but my self-preservation instinct still needed some honing.
He focused on Josh and slowly nodded.
“Do you have a new job?” I asked, but I didn’t care.
There were more important questions like, were we just a short fling? Was it not really love? Would he ever really forgive me for burning Josh? Were they visiting me because he wanted to see me or because Josh wanted to? Would we keep in touch? Did he regret what we had? Was I worth the chaos of moving to Devil’s Head for a few months?
“I’ll substitute teach for the rest of the school year and see what comes available for next year.”
“We visited Colorado Springs when I was like ten or something,” I said. “We rode up to Pikes Peak.”
He offered a melancholy smile and a tiny nod. “The Cog Railway. It’s pretty fun. I haven’t taken Josh yet. Maybe next summer.” He leaned forward and helped Josh fit another piece into the puzzle.
“How’s my dog? Are you leaving him or taking him?”
Josh giggled. “Clifford is my dog.”
Kyle squinted at Josh. “But where does he sleep?”
Josh sighed. “With you.” He did the cutest shrug, lifting his hands. “But I don’t know why?”
“Josh and I took him pheasant hunting last weekend. I think he’s a hunting dog.”
I grinned, and it felt good. “Told you.”
Kyle’s grin mirrored mine. “You did.”
I joined in again on the puzzle, and we worked on it for the next half hour, keeping our conversation Josh-friendly.
“When are we going?” Josh said when he was bored with the puzzle.
Kyle looked at his watch. “We can go anytime, buddy. Let’s have you use a restroom on the way out.”
I stood. “Give me a hug, munchkin.”
Josh hugged me, and the small lump in my throat that had been there for their whole visit began to swell. When he released me, I feathered my fingertips over his arm. Josh’s gaze followed my touch. Then he looked up at me and smiled while whispering, “I forgive you.”
In the next breath, he put on his jacket and turned toward Kyle.
I remained frozen in place, with his dagger of forgiveness lodged into the center of my heart.
“A week to go,” Kyle said as I stood straight. “I’m proud of you, Eve.”
I nodded since that lump was so thick that words couldn’t squeeze past it. I glanced away and pressed the pads of my fingers to the corners of my burning eyes.
No one was keeping me there. I checked myself in, and I could check myself out. And if Kyle would have asked me to leave with him, I would have.
But he didn’t.
“Come on, Dad.” Josh pulled Kyle’s arm.
“Okay, buddy.”
I swallowed hard, but I still couldn’t breathe. With a brave smile, I hugged him, but I kept it brief and quickly stepped back, staring at my feet while sliding my hands into my back pockets.
“Let’s go, Dad.”
Don’t move.
Not a blink.
Not a single breath.
Kyle let Josh pull him a few feet closer to the door.
Don’t move.
Not a blink.
Not a single breath.
A tear escaped.
And then another. But I kept my head down so he wouldn’t see them.
Just as holding it in became unbearable, I slowly lifted my head, hoping they were gone, but I was met with Kyle taking several long strides back to me. He took my face in his hands and kissed me.
I released a sob, gripping his jacket. When the kiss ended, he dragged his lips along my cheek to my ear and whispered, “I fell hard too.”