Chapter Twenty-Eight Jack
Chapter Twenty-Eight
Jack
“I appreciate you letting me check in so early, Mabel,” I say after she hands me my room key over the counter. When I got back to my tarped-up, sawdust-covered house last night, I quickly realized an accident of some kind must have happened that day while they were working, because my AC was out. It was hot and oppressive in there. So if my night wasn’t bad enough, I added sleeping in 1,000% humidity to the situation.
I didn’t actually sleep, though. I tossed and turned all night, restless with memories of my conversation with Emily. And after the sun was up, and at the first appropriate hour, I went straight to Mabel’s inn and asked for a room for the weekend. A technician will be coming out to my house later today to work on the unit, but I figured why not go ahead and book a room for a few days just in case.
“It would have been rough trying to get through this hot weekend without AC,” I tell her, as I follow her up the stairs.
“Don’t blame you a bit. It’s gonna be hot as hell the next couple of days.” The stairs creak under her loafers. Once we’re on the second floor, she turns left down the hallway and stops in front of a door labeled The Pink Room. She opens it for me and waves for me to step inside.
Good God, it is a palace of ruffles. It’s not just a tribute to the color pink, it is the full embodiment of it. The space is somehow louder than my anxious mind. Which—is maybe a good thing.
“I love giving this room to men,” she says with a chuckle. “It never stops being funny to see the look on y’all’s faces when you step inside. Most men look like they might catch feminism if they’re in here too long.”
“Thankfully I already caught that ‘affliction’ years ago. Now I’m just worried I’ll lose touch with space and time when you shut the door behind me.”
Mabel cackles and I’ve never felt so proud of a joke. “Go on and get settled, and then maybe once you’ve had some time to cool down in the AC you can tell me the real reason you’re at my inn instead of that shitty one you fed me downstairs.” She lifts her eyebrows.
“I—” I pause. “It was a real answer.”
Her eyebrows somehow lift even farther. “Jack, you can’t fool me. I’m a hundred-and-one-year-old woman, I invented lying.”
“Are you really a hundred and one?”
“No. Now tell me what’s going on. You and Emily have a fight?”
I laugh harshly. “There isn’t a me and Emily.”
“I told you to quit with the bullshit. If you don’t want to talk about it, just say so, otherwise quit lying to me.” Her hands are on her ample hips now, yellow dress as bright as the morning.
“All right—I guess you could say we had a fight and it’s going to be awkward to live next door until we sort it out.”
“What was the fight about?”
I don’t know how to explain it. If I even want to explain it. What was discussed between me and Emily last night was personal. And the more time I think over what I said, the more I feel like I was in the wrong. If I tell Mabel, she might not like me half as much from here on out.
“Nope,” she says with a country bite. “Quit trying to find the perfect thing to say and spit it out. I don’t tolerate pretty words. They make me feel queasy.”
Fine, then. “I think I was a dick to Emily.”
“There we go! I can work with this.” Mabel shuffles over to the bed and sits on the bottom edge, patting the spot beside her. “Don’t worry,” she says with a sly grin. “I’m no cougar, you can sit by me.”
“I appreciate that clarification.”
She winks as I sit down, and then her expression sobers. “Now what did you say to our town’s Queen Bee?”
“I can’t tell you all of it because that would involve divulging a secret of hers that I need to keep. But in a nutshell, she had a hard day yesterday—and I wanted her to let me be there for her—but she was dead set on weathering it alone.” I dread saying the next part. “So then I essentially gave her an ultimatum. Either she opens up to me, so we have a meaningful, real relationship, or we go back to nothing.”
Mabel nods. “So essentially you said, Love me how I want to love or else —every woman’s favorite thing to hear.”
I groan and drop my face into my hands. “I know! It was rough.”
And on top of it, I tried to tell her exactly how to feel about her email with Colette. It was my chance to prove I could be someone safe in her life and I steamrolled right over her. I know that Emily doesn’t like to be cornered. And I know how hard criticism is for her, and yet, like Mabel said, I essentially demanded she love me in that moment rather than asking myself what she needed.
You only told me tonight, years after knowing me, because you were finally comfortable and ready, but you’re demanding vulnerability from me when it best suits you.
She was right. I didn’t realize it until now, but I’ve been trying to rush this between us. I don’t think I’ve ever really felt loved until her, so last night, I tried to capture it before it was gone.
Mabel pats my back affectionately. “Now listen, it’s not as bad as all that. But I want to tell you something about Emily. Something I’ve never told anyone, and I’ll deny it until the day I die as well as call you a liar if you ever tell a single soul…”
I look at her, but she seems to be waiting for some kind of reassurance. “I promise I won’t repeat it.”
She nods firmly. “I love those Walker kids. But I like Emily the most.” Her smile glows with tenderness. “She’s tenacious, strong-willed, protective, and has a well of empathy inside her heart that I’m yet to find the bottom of. When I look at her, sometimes I see myself. And because of that, I know that Emily is probably scared to death of you.”
“Of me?” I ask, having a hard time picturing the Emily who has fought with me for more than a decade the least bit scared of me.
“When I met my late husband, oh lordy, I was terrified of him. I’d lost a lot of people I loved in my day, and I couldn’t stand the thought of losing him. I tried and tried to push him away so I could lose him on my own terms. Thought that would be easier. But that sorry fool.” Her smile turns nostalgic and private. “He kept coming back for more, because for some reason, he thought I was worth it.
“It took some time and lots of small moments of building trust between us, but eventually, I learned to rest in my love for him instead of fear it.” She stares out at the memories floating through her mind for another moment, and I don’t dare interrupt. A few moments later, her smile changes to something lighter and she looks at me. “I have a feeling you’re a sorry fool just like my sweet husband. And I’m willing to bet all my hidden money that you got possessive of Emily yesterday because you love her, but you have your own wounds you’re bringing to the table.”
“I think you’re right. But what do I do now?…Also, why do you have hidden money?”
She ignores my last question. “ Now you decide if she’s worth it to you to go slow or not. To give her strong, fierce soul space when she needs it, and to trust she’ll invite you in when she’s ready. To let her heart love you softly until it’s ready for something bigger.” She stands and smooths out the wrinkles of her dress. “Now, of course, if what you need is opposite of what she needs—then maybe this love is one that was only meant to sweep through like a breeze. We encounter those in life from time to time. Doesn’t make them less wonderful to experience just because they come and go quickly.”
When she’s stopped smoothing her dress, I reach out and take her hand. “Thank you, Mabel. I didn’t grow up around people I could be honest with.” I have to swallow back the lump in my throat. “I appreciate you letting me be open with you today. I think I want to be someone who does this kind of thing more.”
“Good. Life can be a little shit sometimes. But shit also makes great fertilizer.” She pats the back of my hand that’s holding hers. “Grow from your experiences, don’t let them smother the light out of you.”
Mabel leaves a few minutes later after telling me to ring downstairs if I need any extra towels, and all I can do is lie back on the bed and stare at the ruffled canopy above me.