Chapter Sixteen #3
How interesting were the ways perception, perspective, and personality shaped memory.
Mel had just told a perfectly true, even factual, version of the events, from his perspective.
A pared-down version, devoid of most context, but that was consistent with his personality.
Though poetry occasionally escaped from his mouth, he generally got to the point and didn’t dangle adjectives like baubles on the branches of his truths.
The truths she’d gleaned from those same facts, shaped by her own perspective, were considerably different.
“I told you in the truck yesterday that I didn’t care what that woman said.
She didn’t hurt me. I don’t know her, I’d never laid eyes on her until that minute, and I likely won’t lay eyes on her again after this weekend.
It doesn’t matter what she thinks of me, and nothing that doesn’t matter can hurt me. ”
Mel was quiet as he processed her words.
His head canted to the right, and he frowned.
“I think I get it, but not totally. Because she did say something shitty. To you. In our house, with me standing right there. You want me to walk away from something like that? Abs, no. That’s .
.. that’s never gonna happen. I’m never gonna let anybody do anything meant to hurt you—even if they miss.
And I gotta say, it feels kinda nuts for you to say I hurt you when I took up for you. ”
His perspective was that of a man defending what he cared about. A man who embraced violence in multiple ways in his life. Of course he couldn’t see the view from where she stood. His own shadow obscured it.
The hurt she’d felt yesterday had been healed by the balm of last night. She didn’t want to relitigate that silly encounter that should have meant nothing. Instead, their newborn romance rested on the balance, and a moment that should have been meaningless now meant everything.
He still held her hand. Now Abigail slipped it free and set it on his arm. “You”—her voice broke. Swallowing, she began again, keeping her eyes locked with his, trying to send the heart of her message into his soul, hoping it would settle there and take root.
“I think you reacted to what she said the way you did—with an insult in kind—because you were embarrassed by what she said. You took that on as an insult because you saw truth in it. I think you were embarrassed for me. And I wonder if some part of you is embarrassed of me.”
He reared back so hard the front legs of his chair came off the floor.
He dropped forward again with a thunk and shoved his breakfast plate away before he replied.
“No! Fuck, Abigail, no!” He stared for another second, then huffed a sharp breath.
“Jesus, now I’m pissed. I can’t believe you’d even think that! ”
She didn’t reply. Until he said more, there was nothing she could add.
Overcoming his shock and offense, Mel leaned toward her again and picked up her hand again.
“You’re wrong, Abs. I’m not embarrassed of you!
Not ever . I’m in awe of you . You’re beautiful from head to toe—but the way you look is just the fancy paper on the real gift.
You’re beautiful—your heart, your mind, the way you see the world, the way you treat people, all the things you know, all the ways you help—that’s your real beauty.
I’m proud to be with you, proud that you think I’m worth your time.
What happened in the Hall yesterday—somebody meant to hurt you.
That’s what I heard. The words barely mattered.
She wanted to hurt you. I didn’t think about why, I just saw somebody trying to hurt you, and I got in her way.
Yeah, I know you’re way stronger than some rando’s nasty comment, and I’m damn sorry it made trouble between us, but I’m not gonna apologize for getting in the way of somebody who wanted to hurt you.
I’m not as nice as you are, and I’m always gonna protect the people I love.
Don’t ask me to step back from that. I won’t. I can’t. That’s who I am.”
Red and green sparks shot through his aura, the blue of which was more vibrant than usual, commensurate with his heightened emotional state. Abigail wondered how her own explosive emotional state affected her aura. Her mind was louder than she could think around.
Their topic was important; they needed to find common ground on this point. They were making progress; he’d shown her a different angle from which to see his side and understand. He’d also said something that made her not care at all about yesterday.
“People you love?” she whispered, almost afraid to give the question life.
Mel blinked, and she knew he hadn’t meant to speak that word into existence. But then he smiled.
“People I love. I’ve been feeling that lately. After last night, it’s like somebody’s shouting it in my ear. It’s early, and you probably think I’m—”
She shook his hand sharply to stop him. “If it’s a truth, don’t take it back. If you’re not sure, though ...”
His gaze was calm, and it held. Then he brought her hand to his mouth and pressed his lips to her knuckles. “If it doesn’t freak you out to hear it, then I’m sure.”
“It doesn’t freak me out.”
At that precise moment, the landline phone on the kitchen wall began to ring.
Though she didn’t use it the way most people did, like it was a vital organ, Abigail had a cell phone and got virtually all of her calls that way.
The landline rarely rang, but when it did, it was usually Mrs. Perkins or Mr. Ebberley, two octogenarians nearby, living the end of their lives right where they’d lived the rest of them.
They relied on their families to keep things running smoothly, and on neighbors when family couldn’t get there.
Though she hated to leave this moment, when Mel had professed his love and she still hadn’t returned a worthy reply, the phone’s strident peal, doubly loud for the extra bell on the porch, had already burst the bubble.
“I’m sorry. I should get that. It might be trouble for one of the oldsters up the road.”
Mel nodded amiably and released her hand. “I’ll refill our coffee—and I’m here if they need help up there.”
That was Mel. He took care of people. She needed to see the world from his point of view as much as she wanted him to see it from hers.
That was how any strong relationship worked, integrating perspectives and worldviews that didn’t have to align perfectly but ultimately couldn’t clash.
Such a delicate balance required compromise.
For Mel, maybe that meant remembering that she was slow to take offence from strangers, and slow down his own impulse to defend her.
And for Abigail, maybe it meant allowing herself to be defended even when she didn’t necessarily need it.
Because it was important to Mel to take care of the people he loved, and because Mel was important to her.
That blasted Harvest Gold monster had rung a good eight times before she got to it and heaved the handset off the hook. “Hello, this is Abigail.”
“It’s Badger,” came the gruff announcement in lieu of a greeting. “Is Mel with you?”
Well. This had to be the first time Badger Ness had ever dialed her number. And this one, too. Adrienne had her cell number, but ... oh well. Not a mystery that needed solving. “He is. Would you like to speak to him?”
Badger made a sound that came across the phone line like a sudden burst of static. “Yes,” he said, his voice sharpening to a point. “That would be great.” He said it through gritted teeth. Something was clearly wrong, and the Horde president was clearly angry.
She dropped the phone to her chest, obscuring the mouthpiece in her bosom, and turned to Mel, who was watching her curiously, a full coffee cup in each hand.
“It’s Badger. He’s calling for you.”
Mel’s expressive, friendly face turned instantly to granite. He, too, was angry now. He set the cups down and took the phone.
“Yeah,” he barked and then went quiet, his expression continuing to harden.
Abigail couldn’t make out the words, but she could hear Badger yelling.
She prepared to face a day that would likely decline from its bright dawning. This Harvest Festival seemed destined to go off the rails in some way.