30. Indie #2
It feels like something is blocking it. Grabbing a ruler, I stick it in there and wiggle it, trying to push down whatever is jamming it.
“Come on, you son of a—yes,” I hiss when I successfully pull open the drawer. Then a gasp escapes me when I see it.
“Oh, my God…”
“Indie!”
Teddy answers on the second ring, sounding surprised, breathless, and… happy. To hear from me? Well, that’s a good sign. Maybe he doesn’t hate my guts. Maybe he doesn’t think I’m an asshole.
Or maybe he doesn’t know better, a mocking voice hisses in my ear.
“H-Hi,” I stutter, my voice low. I’m pacing around my apartment so much, I know my downstairs neighbors probably hate me already. “Hey… uh, how—how are you?”
A long pause before he asks, his voice concerned now. “Indie, are you okay?”
“Yes! Yes, I am okay. Yes, I, er—” I stumble over my words, cringing at myself and suddenly feeling like back when we first met. “So, um… you remember how Ellie gave me the furniture—”
“Yeah, of course,” he says gently, still sounding concerned. “Is something wrong? Did something break? It’s okay, if it did, I’d honestly be surprised if everything safely made the trip.”
“No, everything made it fine! Nothing was broken, the movers did great, but I… I found a photo album in the drawer of her desk.”
“An album?”
“Yeah. And there’s… a lot of photos in here. It’s all Ellie and Pop, from when they were younger,” I explain, but he’s quiet for a minute. “Hey, did you know she went to Woodstock?”
“What?” he chuckles. “No way.”
“I swear,” I laugh, smiling down at the picture of teenage Ellie, with her long hair braided with flowers, in a crochet top and jeans. “There’s a lot of pictures of her and your Pop, though. I think most of these are from when they met…”
“Could I…” he starts, before cutting himself off.
“What?”
“…could I see it?”
My heart skips a beat.
“Of course,” I say, before continuing without thinking. “Do you want to come over?”
“…to your place?”
I wince, slapping my hand against my forehead.
Oh, God. Did I make him uncomfortable?
“Yeah,” I breathe, before adding. “But we can meet somewhere public if you want?”
“Public?” he repeats, sounding confused, and almost offended. “No, I’m fine coming over. Could you send me your address?”
“Yeah, hold on,” I say, putting him on speaker and texting him my address.
“Okay,” he says, before huffing. “You’re only ten minutes away. I’ll be there soon.”
“I’ll see you soon,” I say, trying to keep my voice casual, even with the bolt of anxious excitement running through me.
I think I succeed.
Mostly.
“This is amazing,” Teddy says from next to me at the kitchen table, leaning in close to see a picture of Ellie and Ted at the beach. Ellie’s in a sundress, smiling brightly as Ted holds her on his shoulder, flexing his other arm for the camera. “I’ve never seen these photos.”
“Really?”
“Never,” he confirms, flipping the page and softly laughing at the next set of pictures.
Ellie looks carefree as she twirls, looking like Stevie Nicks in a flowy dress and feathered hair. Ted stands in the back and watches her, a beaming smile on his face.
“They look happy.”
“They do,” I murmur, keeping my eyes on his smiling face. My throat tightens, and I swallow a few times to clear it. My voice sounds strangely thin as I say, “Uh… Teddy?”
His gaze snaps to mine, looking worried now. “What’s wrong, Indie?”
“I wanted to apologize to you.”
Teddy blinks at me, eyes looking left and right.
“For… what?”
Twisting my fingers on the table, I feel awkward in a way I don’t think I’ve ever felt with Teddy.
“For Greece,” I admit quietly. “The last night. When I… told you to crawl.”
Understanding flashes across his face almost immediately. But there’s no shame or embarrassment like I had been terrified of. Still, the longer he doesn’t speak, the more my stomach twists.
“I just keep thinking about it, and I feel guilty,” I rush to say. “I don’t know. I think part of me is worried I treated you the way your mother treated you—”
“No!” he says, the volume of his voice making me jump. He winces, “Shit—I’m sorry, but no, Indie. I… I liked it.”
I blink, reeling. “What?”
“I liked it,” he admits, almost sheepishly.
“You… liked it?” I repeat, seeing him nod. “You’re… you’re serious?”
He nods again.
“Oh my God,” I sigh in relief, burying my face in my hands. “I thought I fucking traumatized you.”
“Quite the opposite,” he mutters, but I don’t think I was supposed to hear it. “No, Indie, I’m okay—really. You didn’t traumatize me. I think I’m already traumatized, so you can’t traumatize someone who’s already traumatized… I think…”
“Oh my God, that doesn’t help,” I mutter, still hiding my face in my hands. “You sound traumatized. I traumatized you.”
Teddy chuckles, and I drop my hands to see his grinning face.
“So, when I was growing up, and my mom told me what to do, it was in a way where I felt like I couldn’t argue or refuse.
Like it was non-negotiable. Then—more recently—I felt like if I didn’t obey her, she would harm herself,” Teddy says, his face twisting before he looks up and meets my eyes.
“But you… I felt like I could just say no. Right then and there. And you would have stopped. That made me feel safe instead of trapped.”
“I would have,” I nod eagerly. “I would have stopped immediately… I just… I’m sorry, Teddy, I think I got caught up in my own hurt.”