Chapter 30
Chapter Thirty
Hattie Past- Age 32
Despite all the promises I made myself that I would make more of an effort to really live my life, I ended up falling into all the same patterns I had before Elisa and Martin died once I got back to Florida. With one major exception, I didn’t have anyone to pull me out of my dark moments.
I thought it was bad right after Charlie and I split the first time. To me, that was the definition of gut-wrenching loss. I’d lost my baby, my husband, and gave up my home town in the span of a couple of weeks. My isolation was self-imposed, and that didn’t sink in until I lost Elisa. I’d give anything to feel the sting of a broken heart again.
I work as many hours as my admin will let me, and then I sleep the rest of the time. Work keeps my mind targeted on a task. There’s no time in the ER to let your mind wander into the weeds. I don’t stray off into all the things I’ve lost in my thirty-two years. There’s no time to imagine how different my life would be if I were going home to a husband and children. I don’t feel the pang of longing for a house filled with noise and scattered toys when I’m dragging my body home at the end of a twelve hour shift. I’m only supposed to work three days a week, but with the nursing shortages we’ve had, I have been getting steady overtime. It’s great for me, because if I work myself down to the end of my endurance all there’s left is sleep.
Sleep can be a great escape, but only when my body is too tired to linger in the space between. When my body is slow to fall into slumber, my mind tends to wander. Those are the nights I toss and turn without peace. At this point I’ve just become someone who is killing time, and perhaps killing myself a little in the process. Burn out is constantly threatening me on the periphery. I can’t let it take me though. The most terrifying words a doctor could say to me at this point is that I need to rest.
The problem isn’t that I’m working too much, rather it’s the days I don’t work at all. Those hours last longer than all the others. Sometimes my friends make me get out of the house, but all too often I find myself walking along the beach replaying memories it would be best I forget. Maybe, if I could manage to pull the claws of the past out of my heart I would look forward to those hours of freedom.
There is one thing I do regret about how busy I keep myself, and it’s that I’ve done a really shitty job keeping my promise to my sister. After Wren turned eighteen and I left town, something broke between us. That’s all my fault.
The truth is, I’m a coward. I don’t know how to be the person Elisa was. I’m a few years younger than she was when she died, but I don’t have near the wisdom that she did. My education, travels, none of it bring me anywhere near the innate wisdom she was naturally graced with. I don’t know how to help Wren with the most basic of problems. How could I when I’ve done such a horrible job handling my own shit?
Before Elisa and Martin died we were in regular contact. The credit for that goes to my sister. She was the glue between all of us. Without her, the bonds between my niece and I have stretched until they are barely strong enough to keep pulling us back together.
We aren’t strangers. We call on each other’s birthday, and I call her on Elisa’s birthday. Outside of that we chat about once a month. The last few months have been pretty spotty. I can tell there’s something going on with her, but she won’t open up to me. I don’t push either. If I did, she’d get a first row seat to the failure I am as a person. I do everything I can to keep people from seeing the shell I am as a person. Our relationship has become superficial, but then again I’m a surface level person. Everything below that is a tangled web of sticky sadness. I’d be a horrible person to soil her with it.
It’s not that I’m still afraid that anyone will learn the truth about Charlie and me. I never was the one who wanted to keep it a secret. The reason I don’t want anyone to find out is because then I’d have to relive it. How am I supposed to forget him and move on if that happens?
I haven’t been able to come up with a good answer to that question, so I go with the wrong but easy answer. Avoidance. Anything that reminds me of the pain I felt losing my relationship gets shoved aside, even people I love. In truth, I push away everything that makes me feel anything other than exhaustion. Even those walks on the beach often turn into runs. I think I’ve been trying to speed past my heartache this whole time. The only thing passing me by is life itself. Turns out there’s no magic recipe for escaping the emotional toll of trauma.
Then one day out of the blue I see Wren’s name come across my caller ID. The first time I send her to voicemail. Not because I’m avoiding her, this time, but because nights in the ER can be harrowing. That night there was a major pileup on the 275 and all hands were needed to treat injuries. It was hours of rushing to save as many people as we could. My body is buzzing with an overload of adrenaline by the time I finally catch a moment to breathe.
That’s when I remember sending Wren to voicemail. I pull it up and listen to her message. The first thing I notice is the sound of her voice. It’s the sound of someone trying desperately not to cry. “Hey, uhm, it’s Wren. You already know that though. Yeah, so my car broke down in Alabama. I am currently on a bus, and I’ll be in Tampa in about ten hours. I was hoping it would be okay if I come stay with you.” Her voice breaks at the end.
Immediately, I feel guilty for sending her to voicemail. There I was, holding the hand of a little girl who was in need of comfort after her parents were wheeled into surgery, when my sister’s daughter was out there alone and hurting. There were other nurses who could have helped the little girl, but Wren doesn’t have any other family but me. When I left her in Harriston, she had a bright future, and she was madly in love. Judging by the sound of her voice that’s changed, because I know that tone too well. That’s the sound of a heart breaking.
When my admin asks me to stay on for more hours after my twelve hour shift, I do something I’ve never done in my eight years working for this hospital, I say no. I’ve been a shitty aunt, and not even a full human being. For once I’m going to be present in my own life. When the bus pulls into the station I see myself reflected back at me. It’s like shoving through the layers of time and watching the past play out from a different perspective.
The woman in front of me has been worn down by life and her heart is shattered; a feeling I know all too well. I have always worried what would happen with her marrying Liam too young. Hypocritical, I know, but Liam isn’t Charlie. I didn’t worry Wren couldn’t handle the responsibility, but I never saw him rising to the commitment. I hate being right about this.
For two weeks she walks around like a ghost. She barely eats, sleeps, or talks. It doesn’t take a genius to know that some major shit has gone down. It’s my fault she keeps it to herself, because I’m the one that erected the walls between us in the first place. Finally, she starts to open up to me, and tells me about Liam’s affair, and that his mistress is pregnant.
Another week crawls by and I watch her fall deeper into depression. Even after talking to me she doesn’t seem to be pulling out of the hole she’s fallen into. Her mood swings make a lot more sense when a pregnancy test comes up positive. It’s a story I know all too well, being in love with a man who doesn’t love you back.
All of that changes when Griffin Hale shows up outside my condo instead of his son. My heart jumps into my throat when I see him on my doorstep. I’m home a lot more since Wren has been staying with me, otherwise I probably wouldn’t have been around to answer the door. My face broadcasts my confusion as I open the door to the six-foot plus, grumpy, god-like man, who will always pale in comparison to his much more laid back best friend in my eyes.
“What the hell do you think you’re doing here, Hale? So your son is such a chicken shit that he knocks up my niece and lets his daddy come and fix things for him?” I didn’t plan to start berating him, but my anger at Charlie, Liam, and hell Griffin too, boils over.
Then it occurs to me that Wren only just found out, and she hasn’t told Liam yet. I slap my hand over my mouth as if that could possibly take back the words that I vomited all over him. Through my hand I say, “Uhm, forget that. He doesn’t know, because—shit, why are you here?”
It doesn’t immediately connect for me that he would be there for himself and not on behalf of his son. Being with Wren the last few weeks has me on edge like I haven’t been for years. When you stop closing yourself off, you don’t get to choose which emotions come back.
He has his back to the road, so I see her before he does. It’s like he has some kind of sense that she’s nearby, and his head turns to her without her saying a word. Waves of intensity pour off of him, and I get a sinking feeling that Liam has nothing to do with Wren’s baby.
I can see the appeal. Griffin Hale is a painfully sexy man. Someone that could attract a woman nearly half his age. There’s something about a man who works with his hands. I’ve never been able to resist it. I guess she and I are tragically more alike than I realized. At least my older man was my brother-in-law’s friend, not my husband’s father. Then again Charlie and Griffin are best friends, so I’d say it’s another mark in the similarity column. I’m not sure that’s a good thing.
He stalks toward her, grabs her arm, and I can hear him making demands with a tone of barely leashed anger. “We need to talk, baby bird, now!”
“Wren!” I scream. It’s not like I think he’ll hurt her, but there’s more than physical pain.
I can see from her body language that she’s actually relieved to see him, which doesn’t make sense given how angry he seems. With that same level of ease, she waves me off. “It’s okay, Hattie,” she shouts to me and let’s him help her into his truck.
Even with her reassurance I find myself pacing my condo. The prospect of being alone again scares me. Then there’s the fact that Wren seems to be repeating my mistakes. Well, I guess this might not be a mistake. At least Griffin came for her, and he didn’t even seem to know about the baby. She seems to love him, only love can make you that miserable.
I’d be a hypocrite if I judged her for it. I can’t say I’m convinced they’re going to make it, but I won’t be rooting for them to fail. If Wren can take her broken heart handed to her by Liam and find something so much bigger, then I can stop hiding from life. It may blow up in her face, but at least she’s taking a chance.
I’ve put myself on ice for too long and I’m not even sure why. I’ve already had my heart broken and survived, so what am I hiding from? The only thing I’m doing is racking up the regrets for when my life is mostly behind me.
If it works for her she’ll be leaving here soon to go back to her life in Harriston, and once again I’ll be all alone. If it doesn’t work, then I don’t want her to look at my life and get anticipatory depression. It isn’t like I’m the poster child for healthy coping skills. When life gets hard I run away, and I just keep going.
It’s the safe option. I’m good at choosing the path of no resistance. I know that I need to actually start engaging in my own life. There are other options for me, and I think it’s time for me to choose one. Over the last week, before the arrival of Wren’s father-in-law/baby daddy, my friend Clark started helping her untangle the clusterfuck of her life by untying the knot with her lying shit-bag of a husband. Not that there ended up being a lot for him to do. He was able to find out that her lawyer back home had already submitted the divorce papers, and when Liam didn’t sign them he was able to push them through. It made it take a little bit longer, but you can’t stop someone from divorcing you.
Clark did all of this for her for free, because she’s my family. He’s determined to show me that he’ll do anything for me, and that real love doesn’t hurt. The only problem is that I don’t know if what I feel for him is love. Not the soul consuming, blood lit on fire, takes my breath away kind of love I had with Charlie.
Maybe that’s the point though. You can’t be consumed, burned, and suffocated and come out the other side intact. Or maybe I’m broken from all the loss I’ve suffered that I can’t recognize my own feelings. I feel pulled to what hurts, and run away from what makes me feel safe and cared for. I’m sure a therapist would be kept busy with me as a patient.
When I close my eyes, those few times I don’t immediately fall into an exhausted slumber, I see a life with Charlie playing out. How can it still hurt after all this time? When will it end?
My phone rings. I don’t need to look at the caller ID to know that it’s Clark. There’s a pang of disappointment. My stupid heart can’t stop fantasizing that one day Charlie will come around. Even I start to wonder if I haven’t been hiding from life but trying not to miss out on one with him.
It’s stupid, because the one thing I’ve learned over the last twelve years is that Charlie will never come for me. It’s always been me running to him. I could probably push my way back into his life, but for once, I want him to prove to me that he wants me there. Nothing short of that will bring us back together.
I shake off the melancholy, answer my phone, and talk to my friend. Clark has stepped up his efforts to get me to go on a date with him, and I think he’s finally wearing me down. My only hesitation is that I know there won’t be a casual stage with us. We’ve been friends for too long, and there’s no need for the “getting to know you” stage of dating. There’s very little I don’t know about this man. Thanks to a drunken night out during our senior year of college, I even know what it’s like to kiss him.
He’s got skills, I’ll give him that. If mechanics alone were enough, there’d be no hesitation. Clark is a beautiful man. Tall, lean, and with those sharp angular features that turn mortal men into movie heartthrobs. Women throw themselves at him within moments of peering into his ocean blue eyes, but he has remained the same sweet man I’ve known since we met.
If I take this step with him we’re going to be serious from the start. Who would risk a thirteen year friendship for a fling? Not anyone sane, that’s who. Although, there are women who’d risk everything to be with him. They should too, Clark is the best man I know. This is why I know we don’t fall in love with our brains. My mind could never be as fucking stupid to turn down a man like Clark Reeves for a dumb reason like being hung up on a man who doesn’t love me back.
I know that some people are very purposeful when they get married. Love isn’t always enough to build a life on. I should know. I love Charlie with every cell in my body, even after all this time, but it isn’t enough to bridge our differences. Clark and I are very alike in so many ways, and I do love him. He’s my best friend in the world now since Donovan still rarely talks to me. I’ve tried, but it’s possible to hurt someone too much to come back from that. That only makes me worry even more about losing Clark by being too hasty with a decision this important.
Clark’s voice makes something inside of me click into place. Maybe love doesn’t have to feel like an earthquake shaking the foundation of my world. Perhaps it can come in like a soft wind, gently nudging me forward.
“Are you listening to me, Hattie?” Clark asks, bringing me back to the moment.
“Of course,” I lie.
“When are we going to stop doing this?” I’ve been expecting this question for quite a while now.
“Doing what?” I ask, playing dumb.
“Dancing back and forth across the line between just being friends and becoming something more. I love you, Hattie. I’ve always loved you. Don’t you think it’s time you moved on? You’ve been broken-hearted for twelve years, you need to let yourself be happy.”
“Okay,” I whisper.
“This has gone on long en—what?”
I blow out a breath to calm my nerves. “I said, okay. You’re right. It’s time I move on, and I can’t think of anyone better than you. You’re my best friend, Clark.”
“I want to be more than that,” he tells me.
“Okay,” I repeat.
“You sound so enthusiastic.” I can hear the complaint in his voice, but I don’t know what to tell him. He knows that I’m not in love with him. That doesn’t mean I don’t love him.
“We aren’t like that, and I’m okay with it. You have to decide if you are. I’ve already ridden the crazy love train, but the thing about that kind of love is that it doesn’t last. It’s a wild ride, but you can’t build a life on it. I’m thirty-two-years-old now and I don’t want to keep chasing an emotional high,” I start.
He scoffs. “Hattie, you’ve been running from an emotional high, not toward one. I won’t let you keep hiding by being with me.”
I sigh into the phone. “Can we do this in person?”
“So that I can take one look at you and go soft like I always do?” he asks me.
I smile. I might not be head over heels for him, but there is love there. “You shouldn’t have told me that, because I’m totally going to use it against you.”
He chuckles. “God help me, but you are my greatest weakness.”
“I hope he’s listening to you, because I’m certainly not going to change that for you. Can we stop doing this over the phone now? I’m hungry.” And I don’t want to be alone anymore.
“Are we really doing this?” I can hear the vulnerability in his voice.
Clark’s heart is precious to me. I had to make sure I was ready to commit to him, completely before I ever accepted more with him.
“Yeah, we’re doing this,” I say seriously.
“Then I’m on my way to come pick you up,” he says and then we get off the phone.