18. Nellie
EIGHTEEN
NELLIE
MAY
For the past five months, Marley has sent me nearly daily updates on how the puppies they had rescued just before Christmas are doing. When she’s away for work, she tasks Bennett with updating me. I know he’s only doing it half the time because his messages are just quick updates with mediocre images. I know it’s Cass doing it the other times because those images all have Teddy in them, and I can guarantee he isn’t aware of most of the pictures she’s taking. I hate how my body heats ever so slightly when he’s a bit more in focus. I cannot stand how my eyes only briefly land on the dogs before finding him and staying put for way too long.
The picture I’m currently looking at is of Teddy holding out a large stick in the center of several jumping dogs. He’s wearing a light blue Henley, dark jeans, and a baseball cap. If someone asked me how many dogs were in the picture or what color they were, I’d be at a loss. But I could tell them that Teddy’s lips are pulled to the right ever so slightly and he hasn’t shaved in a few days. I could tell them that the top two buttons of his shirt are undone and that there is a stain on his jeans, just above his right knee. I won’t tell anyone, though; no one else needs to know how or what I feel. Especially since I can’t quite figure it out for myself, and there’s no point in trying to unravel over a decade of feelings now.
I get ready for bed and curl up with the latest in Maira Sahni’s The Forest of Despair series. What started as a trilogy quickly bloomed into a never-ending saga that has grown with me. Unfortunately, the main character, Amira, has faced a similar fate when it comes to her love life. Well, maybe “unfortunately” isn’t the right word. It’s kind of nice having someone to sympathize with when someone you loved just fucks off, even if they are fictional.
After trying and failing to read more than two pages, I slap the book down on my bedside table and throw myself into the ridiculous amount of pillows I keep on my bed. My mind wanders back to our reunion, not in the car but in the office. He had told me that he had learned something that set him off, but we never got to it. I try to convince myself that I don’t care, but I know that’s a lie. My mind drags me back to all the encounters we’ve had since that first one.
At Christmas, the memory of him in the car was still present on my body. Every place his fingers had grazed, every caress of his lips, every exhale that touched my skin still burned. When he walked into Bennett’s kitchen, brushing snow out of his hair, the pull was strong. I’d been reminded of what I had been missing only days before, and I’d quit that feeling cold turkey. I allowed my gaze to linger longer than I should have. His pale blue eyes had met mine across the room, and we’d been locked like that while people introduced themselves to each other. I tracked every movement he made as he removed his jacket and boots. Tried not to focus on the way his sweater stretched across his shoulders or how I knew what those locks of hair felt like slipping through my fingers.
For the rest of the night, I tried to stay away. Tried not to look at him and then let my eyes linger. Forced myself to leave the room when he’d walk into it. Ignored his hopeful smiles or suggestions of puppy snuggles, which was a whole other kind of torture. Nothing about being near him and yet not being with him felt natural, and still I’d forced myself to keep the shields in place. Stay strong , I’d repeated to myself.
Then, on St. Patrick’s Day, I could tell he had wanted to talk, I felt those blue eyes on me more often than not, but I avoided him the entire time. Or rather I avoided talking to him. I know he caught me looking almost as much as I caught him.
Tomorrow will be the first time I’ve seen him since March. Bennett is throwing a party for Marley’s birthday and her return home from another trip abroad, and Izzy, her husband Tom, and I are driving up to help prepare while they’re driving back from the airport. I don’t know what’s going on with me. Teddy showed up and made me remember that feeling of euphoria just by the presence of the other person. I don’t know if I haven’t felt it again because I’m too afraid to let my heart go all in again, or if it just was Teddy.
As I lay in bed with visions of Teddy dancing in my head, I can’t help wondering if staying strong is akin to being cruel to myself. Protecting myself seems logical but I’m not sure how right it feels. What’s more, I’m not sure I can keep it up. I don’t know if I can ever fully forgive Teddy and I certainly don’t know if I can trust him again. The wounds he left were deep, and trusting my heart with anyone has become nearly impossible. But trusting myself around Teddy may be the most difficult task yet.