Chapter thirty-one
Theo
I ducked out of work early to stop home before class. The past week and a half had been a torture of my own making. I’d blown up the air mattress in one of the spare bedrooms because, apart from that first night when my adrenaline crashed, I hadn’t been able to sleep in mine. After one sleepless night spent staring at the painting, I switched rooms and restarted my pre-breakfast workouts. Waking up in a comfortable bed with Poppy in my arms had felt so good, I’d moved my routine to later in the day or skipped it all together to join my friends at the gym. But without her, the usual anxiety ate at me until I gave in to planks and pushups. The lonely air mattress was enough to put me in a bad mood, but then I’d gone and begged Aiden to get Poppy back in the studio.
A saner man would have left the house as soon as she arrived, but I found myself moving first from the couch to the kitchen before stretching out on the floor by the studio door. Poppy’s music bled through the wall, but she kept it low enough I could hear her movements when she set up and the clank of tools in the sink as she cleaned. She was remarkably quiet while she worked. Being a night owl like me, she’d stayed in the studio long past midnight several times. I once fell asleep propped against the kitchen cabinet and woke hours later to a quiet house and a crick in my neck.
Every night after she’d left, I’d entered the studio to see the progress she’d made. The part of me that felt guilty for snooping took a back seat to the ache in my chest. I missed her. And if I couldn’t see her face, the next best thing was her art.
As the days passed, the sculpture began to take the form of two people standing with either two people lying on the ground behind them or their shadows. As she added details, it became clear she and I were the two figures in the middle of the sculpture, locked in an embrace. She was still working on the two figures laying on either side. Perhaps they were meant to be our separate shadows or past selves or something else entirely. Even unfinished, I knew it would be one of her best sculptures. I wanted to scribble her a note and tell her how amazing it looked, but then I’d have to admit to snooping.
After days of listening to her work, I finally felt strong enough to see her face-to-face and invite her back to class. I was relieved she was working again, but I hated that she’d avoided the community center because of me. Not that I could teach her anything. Class just hadn’t felt the same without her. Honestly, nothing had.
As soon as I opened the front door, I knew she wasn’t in the studio. I walked to the back of the house anyway. My heart thudded when I saw the open kitchen door. I flicked on the studio lights and my eyes narrowed in on the statue. Unlike the other times I’d snooped, she’d left it uncovered.
The finished piece filled me with longing. Detailed and evocative, it would have moved anyone with half a heart, but the pain I felt as I walked closer pulled a sound from my throat that I hadn’t heard myself make since the night Logan died. And like that night, the weight of everything I’d lost, all the hurt I’d brought on myself, crashed against me in waves that left me shaking and sick.
I took a few deep breaths, willing myself not to throw up. This pain couldn’t be the same. Logan lost his life because of me. Poppy was still alive, still sculpting—better than she ever had before.
There was no mistaking the meaning of the piece. Poppy believed we were stronger together than apart, but she’d exaggerated the holes in her life and minimized mine. I had been better with her, but she was better off without me.
Once my stomach settled, I searched for a drop cloth to cover the piece like she usually did, only there wasn’t one nearby. I went to the cabinet where she kept her things but found it empty. I flung open all the doors. My paints and brushes were exactly where I’d left them, but nothing of Poppy’s remained.
I found her key on the table when I tossed one of my old towels over the sculpture. I should be relieved. If the past few days had taught me anything, it was that having her in my space was too painful, too tempting. Even so, I wondered what it meant for her art. Where would she work, if she didn’t work here?
Hoping against all odds she’d be in class, I turned off the studio lights and left. The community center parking lot was filled with cars when I arrived, but Poppy’s hearse was nowhere in sight. With a sigh, I climbed out of my truck and went inside.
“He looks even worse than last week,”
Millie said when I entered the classroom.
“What’s tweaked?”
Esther bellowed.
“She said Theo looks worse than last week,”
Gladys yelled.
“Oh, yes, he does,”
Esther said.
“Poppy doesn’t look any better,”
Mrs. Adams added.
“Pale as a ghost,”
Mr. Twillings added.
“She’s always pale as a ghost,”
Mr. Wilson said. “And we’re not talking about her when she isn’t here.”
“And who’s fault is that?”
Mr. Fitzwilliam said.
Every pair of eyes in the room glared at me.
“You’ll never find a woman like Poppy again,”
Mr. Wilson said.
“Thought we weren’t talking about her,”
Mr. Twillings snapped.
“That’s fact, not gossip,”
Mr. Wilson said.
Everyone grumbled their agreement except Esther who seemed to be having an off day with her hearing aid. “Is Poppy coming tonight?”
she asked.
“Ok everyone,”
I said, clapping my hands. “Today we’ll continue the watercolors we started last week.”
“I’d rather work on your love life,”
Mrs. Adams said.
“I second that,”
Mr. Wilson said, raising his hand.
“All in favor,”
Gladys said, raising her hand too. Everyone else raised theirs, including Esther, though I doubt she knew what she was agreeing with.
I rubbed my forehead. “You won’t work until we talk about this?”
They all nodded.
I blew out a breath. “Fine. I was arrested last week for tattooing a minor. I ended things with Poppy because I don’t want to take her down with me. She deserves better than me.”
“We know all about the arrest,”
Gladys said. “Every one of us submitted a character statement to that lovely Everly girl.”
“I’ve called my son daily to give him hell,”
Mr. Fitzwilliam added. “What’s the point of having the police chief in the family if he can’t get rid of a little ticket? Between me, Brandi, and Max, he’s at his wit’s end. And we’re not stopping until he calls that girl’s parents and tries to talk some sense into them.”
“I started a petition to have the charges dropped,”
added Mr. Wilson. “I have over two hundred signatures so far, and that’s just the folks who’ve come into the pharmacy. We’re knocking on doors this weekend. Our goal is a thousand.”
“Y’all did all that for me?”
I asked, my voice shaky.
“Of course, we did,”
Mille said. “I’m prepared to take the witness stand, if need be, and so is everyone else, except Esther,”
she added loudly, pointing to the woman. “For obvious reasons.”
“My ears are shot but I can still write,”
Esther said. “The letter I gave Everly was five pages long.”
“Now, back to Poppy,”
Mr. Twillings said. “I understand you think you’re doing the right thing, but from where we’re sitting, you’re just breaking her heart and yours.”
“What’s the point in that?”
Mrs. Adams asked.
They all grunted like they couldn’t think of any reason worth mentioning.
“Having known Logan,”
Mr. Twillings said in a small voice. “I’m certain he wouldn’t have wanted you to hold on to the guilt the way you have either.”
“You’ve got to let it go, Theo,”
Mr. Wilson said. “Move forward with Poppy.”
Then, as if they’d agreed ahead of time, everyone but Mr. Wilson rose from their chairs at varying speeds, shuffled into the hall, and headed as a pack to the exit.
They didn’t understand. No one did. The guilt. The shame. The fear that at any moment the life I’d built would come crashing down, taking everyone I loved with it.
Once the others had left the building, Mr. Wilson walked to the front of the room and handed me a business card. “You’re right, you know,”
he said. “You’re not good enough for Poppy. Not yet. That girl deserves a man who’d move heaven and earth, and more importantly, his own bullshit, to be with her. Believe me, I speak from experience. I did a tour in Vietnam, and I’ve been putting in the work ever since to be the man I want to be. I’m pulling for you, Theo. We all are. You just need to step up to the challenge.”
He gave my shoulder a pat and left. I flipped the card over and found the name and number for a therapist in Jericho. I shoved it in my pocket and pulled out my phone to text Aiden. I didn’t feel like spending the evening in my empty house, but when I unlocked the screen, I had a text from an unknown number.
As soon as I started reading the string of rebukes in Greek, I knew they were from Patera. Nothing had changed since the trial. I’d ruined my life and brought shame to the family. He wished I’d never been born. I was dead to him.
But within the usual rant, something stood out: The names of every member of Logan’s family. Plus, Cal, Aiden, and both their parents. Even Mr. Twillings and my high school English teacher Mrs. Evers. In short, everyone in Peace Falls who my father might remember. Plus a few people he’d never met, including Max, Rose, and Mr. Fitzwilliam. They’d each reached out to my parents begging them to convince me to accept Everly’s help and fight both the recent charges and my prior conviction.
I wondered what my life would be like if Patera hadn’t disowned me after the trial. It definitely impacted the way I saw myself. I’d done something so terrible, my own father couldn’t stand the sight of me, and my own mother hadn’t loved me enough to fight him. It’d been easy to let the guilt I’d planted deep when Logan died spread like kudzu. A part of me was grateful. I’d never have met Max if my parents had welcomed me home with open arms. I never would have found my passion as a tattoo artist. But maybe, I would have been able to move forward.
Instead, I’d doubled the shame Patera felt and swallowed it as my own. My father had been the voice in my head for too long. Perhaps it was time I listened to everyone else around me. All the people who’d tracked down my father in another country, hoping he’d try to convince me to let go of my mistakes. Or, better yet, I could be more like Poppy and not give a shit what anyone else thought of me.
My fingers shook as I texted back one word: Antio. A cold and final goodbye.
I felt lighter the moment I sent it. I quickly typed a message to my group text with Aiden and Cal before I could change my mind.
Can someone give me Everly’s number? I’m ready to fight
Cal
About damn time
Aiden
Aiden
Just the newest arrest or the whole conviction?
Everything
Cal
Better add yourself to the list
Already started, brother. Think you can help me with something tomorrow?
Cal
Depends. It’s Valentine’s Day
Aiden
For fuck’s sake, Cal, nothing you have planned for Rowan will top a happy sister
Cal
He didn’t say it was for Poppy!
Aiden
Still the dumbest smart person I know
Cal
Is it for Poppy?
Yes
Cal
Whatever you need, brother
Aiden
Why didn’t you ask me to help?
You can. But I don’t think you’ll want to
Aiden
I’d do anything to stop my daily check ins with you two punks
I’m holding you to that
Aiden
Please tell me you’re not buying her camping gear
Cal
Don’t be an asshole, A. Rowan loved it
Aiden
Or she was too sweet to say otherwise
I shoved my phone in my pocket and let their banter ping back and forth without me. I had more important things to do.