40. The Exception
FORTY
THE EXCEPTION
? The Only Exception - Paramore
CLIO
“It smells like hay and horse shit.” Quinn fans her nose as she steps inside the guest house at Whispering Oaks Ranch. “I don’t know how you can stand it.”
We’ve been living here for a week, and although we adjusted to our new surroundings fairly quickly, it doesn’t quite feel like home.
I’m enjoying all the extra time I get to spend with my sister and the twins, but I always feel like I’m imposing when they invite us to family dinners, so I mostly keep to myself.
Emmy Lou keeps asking me about Auggie coming to visit again, and I don’t have the heart to tell her it’s not up to me, so I keep distracting her with other things.
The hardest part about losing Noah wasn’t just watching him walk away; it was knowing I’d be losing Auggie. I’ll see him in August when school starts back up, and that has to be enough.
I recount the rows on my latest knitting project for the third time in as many minutes. “Have you seen him?”
“In passing, but we haven’t talked, and he hasn’t come into the coffee shop since you left. I think he’s avoiding it… There’s something you should know.”
I set aside the unfinished sweater and sit up straighter.
“His brother is getting out. Janet said they found new evidence or something.”
I cover my mouth, tamping down the urge to rush to Noah’s side. He must be all kinds of fucked up about it. My mind starts conjuring up a million different scenarios, but only one of them makes sense.
The phone call he got at the ice cream shop.
He must’ve known.
Did he think he was saving me from something?
If that’s what happened, it doesn’t change anything. He could’ve chosen to confide in me—to lean on me like a real partner. Instead, he decided to break my heart by throwing my insecurities in my face. Even if I understand it on some fucked up level, I can’t forgive him.
What about Auggie? How will he handle this? Aside from the weekly phone calls with his dad, he hasn’t seen him in almost a year. Is Jonah going to take back custody? Is he capable of caring for a child?
All questions I don’t have the answers to because Noah fucking Weston decided I was too much. I shake out my trembling hands, trying to calm myself, but it’s no use. I’m helpless in this situation.
Quinn slides across the couch and wraps an arm around my shoulder. “Take a deep breath.”
I close my eyes and inhale through my nose.
“Good. Now let it out.”
I blow it out slowly.
“Again.”
She repeats the exercise with me until my pulse returns to normal and I’m no longer shaking like a leaf.
I rest my head on her shoulder. “Thank you.” The words come out on a heavy sigh.
“Feel better?”
“Mhm.”
“Good. Why don’t you come to the town meeting with me tonight?”
“I would rather shovel horse shit.”
“That can be arranged.” Callie strides into the cabin, toes off her shoes, and falls onto the couch beside me, laying her head on my lap. She looks up at me and smiles. “Hi.”
“Hi, yourself.”
“What stage of grief are we in?” Callie asks, but she’s not looking at me; she’s looking at Quinn.
“The one where she knits sweaters for your toddlers in the middle of the summer.”
Callie squints and purses her lips. “So, denial. We can work with that.”
I shove her off my lap and toss a pillow at her head.
“Ooh. Anger. Even better. Let’s go to a rage room.”
I’m standing in the middle of a plywood room with a table in the center, wearing a set of coveralls and goggles. “All I Wanted” by Paramore plays through the speakers. This isn’t exactly what I had in mind for a fresh start.
Callie and Quinn give me a thumbs up through a window. This must be what it feels like to be a fish in an aquarium. I pick up a metal baseball bat and try to swing it like that one scene in Twilight, but it falls to the floor with a loud clatter.
Callie throws her head back, laughing, and Quinn rolls her eyes, adjusting her headphones over her ears. It says a lot that Quinn insisted on coming with us despite how overstimulating a place like this can be.
I pick it back up, preparing to swing at the vintage computer monitor in the center of the table. The music builds to a crescendo, and I let the baseball bat fly, putting a massive crack in the center of the screen. I stare at it in satisfaction.
The second swing comes with a wave of sweet relief, unleashing a feral beast. Letting every ounce of unbridled anger and sadness flow through me, I pick up a hammer next, wielding it like the words that have been haunting me for weeks.
“You’re too much, Clio!” The hammer comes down, shattering a stack of plates.
It’s pure catharsis with each swing, every broken lamp and shattered bottle. With five minutes left on my timer, I turn to Callie, giving her a succinct nod. She meets me at the door, holding the strawberry-shaped cookie jar filled with pennies. “Are you sure about this?”
“I can’t keep clinging to the past. That jar isn’t going to bring Penny back, and what little luck it might hold isn’t going to fix things between Noah and me. It’s only weighing me down. I have to let go.”
“Ok.” I can tell she doesn't believe me, but she retreats back behind the glass anyway.
I set the jar in the center of the plywood table, eyeing up the rest of the weapons hanging on the wall.
With a tire iron in my hand, I close my eyes and inhale a fortifying breath.
Aunt Penny would understand. In fact, she would be right here by my side smashing things if she knew what I’d been through these last nine months.
I’d like to think she’d even be a little proud.
It only takes one good swing and red porcelain shatters across the room, hundreds of pennies cascading to the floor like a beautiful copper waterfall.
Tears roll down my cheeks, blurring my vision.
When my time is up and the music stops, I drop the tire iron at my side and tug off my gloves, running my thumb over my last lucky penny.
It was never really about luck—it was about keeping her memory alive, and I have that now, etched into my skin forever.
If nothing else, I can say Noah gave me that.
After one final look back, I step out of the room and into the arms of my best friend and my sister. They hold me while I cry, and I let them because I don’t know how to do anything else.
NOAH
With Auggie clinging to my back like a koala bear, I step inside the elevator in Emma’s apartment building.
“Can I press the button?” he asks. “Please.”
I crouch so he can hop off my back and instruct him to press the number three.
He stares at me like I have two heads. “I know what number it is.”
I lean back against the railing and hold up my hands. “My bad.”
He presses the button and mirrors my stance, but when he does, the elevator jerks, and his left processor pops off, magnetizing to the handrail.
“What the?” He looks both ways over his shoulders, trying to find it until he finally gives up and spins all the way around, plucking it off the handrail.
I help him reattach it as we arrive at the third floor. The doors creak open much more slowly than they should.
We’re definitely taking the stairs on the way down.
“Uncle Noah?” Auggie says as we step out of the shoddy elevator.
“Yeah, buddy?”
“When can I see Cici? I miss her.”
I miss her, too.
“You’ll see her on your first day of school.”
“But I wanna see her now.”
“I know, but she’s with her sister right now. We—you have to be patient.”
He pouts all the way down the hallway until we stop outside of Emma’s apartment door. “How about this… I’ll text Lexi and see if you can FaceTime with Cici later, ok?”
He beams like I just promised him a puppy, and I can’t say I blame him. I’d give anything for one glimpse, one touch, one more smile. I miss her smile the most. She was never too much. She was everything.
I don’t bother knocking, and Auggie’s a blur before the door closes. He runs into Jonah’s arms, nearly bringing him to his ass.
Jonah palms the back of Auggie’s head and buries his face in his neck, but not before I catch a glimpse of his tear-filled eyes.
A lump lodges in my throat, and I force myself to look away.
Emma’s apartment is like a black hole with dark walls and furniture to match. She has a giant Luna moth tapestry hanging above the couch, with twinkle lights surrounding it; a deck of tarot cards is laid out on the table beside several used candles and a collection of crystals.
She steps beside me, misty-eyed as she watches Jonah and Auggie.
I wrap my arm around her and squeeze. “How is he?”
“Better than I expected. Thanks for agreeing to meet us here.”
“I’m not staying.”
“Noah.”
“Let them have some time alone. I’ll be back after the town meeting, and we’ll figure everything out.”
Jonah sits on the couch with Auggie on his lap, his dark curls hanging just above his shoulders.
They’re longer than they used to be, and he has a few new tattoos, a scar through his left eyebrow and a nose piercing he didn’t have the last time I saw him.
We lock eyes for a few tense seconds before he nods once, and I return the gesture.
I linger in the entry for another minute, watching Auggie talk animatedly about everything under the sun as if he’s going to fill his dad in on every moment he missed over the last year. If I still had a heart, it might break, but all I feel these days is empty.
I walk into the town meeting to a mix of dirty looks and curious stares, sitting in the middle row next to Ben and Quinn. She stands and puts several seats between us.
I lean in close to Ben and whisper, “Did I miss something? What’s everybody’s problem?”
Ben gives me a sidelong glance. “You really don’t know?”
“If I did, I wouldn’t be asking.”
He lets out a humorless laugh. “This is gonna be good.”
“What—”
Gramps bangs the gavel, officially calling the meeting to order. “Welcome to the Willow Valley town meeting,” he says in that familiar gravelly voice. “Karen, you have the floor.”
Karen Parker stands behind the podium with a folder in her hand and her typical fake smile.
“Good evening. As many of you are aware by now, the house on Darling Street was listed for sale a while back, and several offers have fallen through over the intervening months. If it fails to sell within the next three weeks, the house will be put up for auction. I have a flyer here for anybody who wants one, and we will be having an open house next Friday. Everyone is welcome to come. We’ll have fresh baked cookies and beverages available. ”
She steps down from the podium and hands the stack of papers to the first person in the front row, who then passes them on down until I’m staring at a black-and-white photograph of my childhood home with a moderate price tag plastered across the paper.
A memory flashes from that night with Clio when she talked about putting down roots, but I shove it down.
With one last glance, I fold the paper and tuck it into my pocket.
Milton bangs the gavel once more, and Janet stands this time. Her piercing gaze lands on me for several tense seconds before she speaks. “The next issue that has been brought before the council pertains to Noah Weston and his former partner, Clio Marsden.”
I hate the way she says former.
“Clio arrived in Willow Valley nigh on two years past. She was the breath of fresh air this town needed.”
Why the hell are they eulogizing her like she’s dead?
“More than that, she was the kick in the ass Noah needed.” She glares at me from the podium. “Two weeks ago, Noah broke that girl’s heart and drove her clear out of town. I would like to address him now on behalf of everyone here. Does anybody have any objections?”
Chatter erupts, but nobody objects on my behalf. I nudge Ben with my elbow, but he shakes his head.
“Should’ve brought popcorn,” he mutters.
“Fuck you.”
“Shh,” Quinn says amusedly. “My favorite show is on.”
“S’cuse me. Pardon me.” Hayden shuffles down the row to sit beside Quinn with a bucket of popcorn in his hand. He holds it out to her, and she takes a handful. “What’d I miss?”
“Nothing,” she mumbles around a mouthful. “It’s just getting good.”
“Oh, hell yeah.” Ben leans over and steals a fistful for himself.
Janet clears her throat and the crowd quiets.
“As I was saying. Noah, I don’t think I have to tell you how special Clio is.
I think you already know that. What you might not realize is how you changed because of her.
When you were together, there was a lightness to you most of this town had never seen before—I certainly hadn’t seen it since your mama used to bring you to the library when you were just a little thing.
And don’t think we didn’t notice you dropping those pennies on the sidewalk just so she could pick ‘em up.”
Landry turns around in the row ahead of me. “You use all five hundred of ‘em yet?”
I narrow my eyes at him. “Shut up, Landry.”
Janet finishes her speech and takes a step down, but not before inviting everyone else to speak their piece.
One after another, people from all walks of life take the podium and talk about all the amazing things Clio has done for Willow Valley.
Simple things like providing tie-dye shirts for the high school musical, knitting hats and mittens for her class, or collecting donations for a family who lost everything in a house fire.
None of it is news to me, but each one hits me like a sucker punch to the gut.
Hayden hands his popcorn to Quinn and strides to the front, hands fisting and unfurling at his side as he scans the room.
“When Lexi got pregnant, her mom was there for us.” His voice is shaky at first, then he clears his throat and continues with more conviction.
“And when we… lost… the baby, she didn’t leave our side for a week.
She took off work to stay home with Lexi.
A lot of the people in this room judged us.
Including you, Mom.” Karen has the gall to look affronted by the accusation, clutching at her chest. “But not Clio. She took care of us.”
His throat bobs and he looks directly at me this time. “Noah was there too. He let me lean on him when I had no one, and I think he deserves some credit for that. Even if he fucked up, he deserves the chance to make it right.”
I wish I could make it right, but I’m sorry; it will never make up for the things I said. Besides, my circumstances haven’t changed. I still don’t know where things stand with Jonah and Auggie. My life is a mess, and Clio is better off far away from me.
When Hayden is done, Janet takes the podium with one final blow. “So, you see, Noah, we all love Clio. Did you think you were going to be the exception?”