Chapter 19 #2
“You saw Nathan today,” he says, more of a statement than a question. My stomach clenches hearing his name.
“Yeah, but I’m done … I can’t …” I don’t know what I’m saying.
A faint swear comes through the phone. “Lu, are you okay?”
“I heard that,” I tease him for the muffled curse. “It might get ugly. I entertained a clown and ended up in a circus.”
“Been there,” he says, sounding carefully neutral. “Did you … break up?”
“Yes. I mean, I think so? I don’t know if I was clear enough.” I take a breath to shake off the unsettled panicky feeling. “You don’t want to hear all this.”
“I volunteer. Tell me.” He’s completely calm, but there’s no teasing in his voice. He’s all business.
“I—I don’t handle angry tirades well. My dad, you know … I’ve gotten better, but Nathan’s blowup caught me off guard.” I’m pathetic. I can’t believe I just told him that, but it’s too late now.
Jude forcefully blows out a breath. He’s choosing his words carefully.
“Lucy. You’re not supposed to handle angry tirades well.”
“Right, but I’m pretty resilient. I barely flinch anymore.”
That sounded better in my head.
He makes a sound somewhere between a groan and a sigh, so I try to sum up the rest quickly.
“He was in a bad mood. Everything set him off. Jackson texted to check on me, then Nathan accused me of talking to his brother behind his back. Jackson sort of helped me out when he let the dog come downstairs. Nathan ran up to yell at him, and there was some fighting. I should’ve left right then.
” I stop, expecting Jude to tell me everything I did wrong, but he doesn’t.
“I wish you’d never gone at all, but I know it’s hard to make decisions in the moment. What happened after that?”
“Nathan calmed down and acted like everything was fine. Like he didn’t scream at me, or accuse me of cheating, and attack his own brother. He acted like he was comforting me, but it didn’t take long to realize ‘comfort’ wasn’t where his hands were going.”
“What the HELL? Lucy! That’s …” He’s angry but quickly dials it back for my sake. “Lu, I’m so sorry.” I can picture him throwing his hat off. He’ll rub his eyes with the heel of his hand and rake it through his hair.
He’s even-tempered, but he’s not a robot. I’ve seen him angry before, but he’s never beyond reason. Never a threat. But I don’t want to be the source of any frustration or make him feel like he needs to protect me.
“It’s okay.” I try to downplay the situation. “We have very different definitions of comfort. He told me I wasn’t normal, and I left. I needed a push to walk away, and I got it.”
There’s more, but this is enough for now.
“None of this is okay. Did he hurt you? Throw things? Put his hands on you?”
“Um, he threw a remote, but it didn’t hit me.” I try to sound unaffected, but all I want is to forget it all.
Jude’s furious. I can feel it.
“Don’t ever go near him again, okay? If you have any stuff there, I’ll replace it. Don’t ever go back. I’m so proud of you,” he says.
“Thanks.” I know I don’t need his approval, but it’s nice.
“In the beginning, Nathan loved everything I wanted to love about myself, and then once he had me, he flipped it. Like, ‘This concludes the portion of our relationship where I care about you. We will now be focusing on me.’ Maybe it’s selfish to want more, but I’ve been done for so long. ”
“I’m relieved to hear that, but you’re not even close to selfish, Lu. He let you down constantly, then made you feel guilty for feeling let down. That’s not love. That’s manipulation. You’re so easy to …” He trails off and takes a breath. “You’re not needy. What have I told you?”
I sigh dramatically. “Trust no one.”
He huffs out a strained laugh, and I’m ridiculously proud of my accomplishment. “The other thing, Punk.”
“If I park to the left of your 4Runner, Jace can’t shoot my butt with the Nerf gun.”
“Sage wisdom, but not that.” I imagine his eyes crinkling around the edges with a smile.
I miss that smile.
“Never feed Sammy after midnight.”
“I give a lot of really good advice, don’t I?” he says proudly. “But I want to hear you say it.”
I pause to be sure I can get the words out.
“I’m allowed to need people,” I say softly.
“Who are you allowed to need?” he prompts.
“You?”
“Has it ever been a question?”
“No, but you get stuck with me more than anyone.”
“Because I volunteer. I like being stuck with you.”
“Jude, I tried to save a relationship with someone who doesn’t even like me. And after the first three months, I didn’t like him either. But I kept trying. He’s not even someone I’d be friends with, and I stayed. What’s wrong with me?”
“Nothing’s wrong with you. We don’t want to give up on people.
It feels good when they tell us how driven, creative, and talented we are.
Then one day they’re not happy and we don’t know what changed.
So we try harder to please them, because deep down, we know who we are.
We just haven’t chosen people who appreciate us. ”
“And then we feel stupid wanting approval from people who make us feel like crap,” I add.
“Yeah. That sounds about right.”
“Is that what happened with Ashley?” I ask hesitantly.
I feel bad about mentioning her, but I’ve always wondered what happened.
I know he ended it, but it seemed like she was the one who was chronically unhappy.
And aside from his little habit of cranking the tension up to ten, then snapping it with a wet willy in my ear, he’s about as perfect as I could imagine a guy to be.
“Pretty much. Every day was a test I couldn’t pass no matter how hard I tried, and I let it go on for years—on and off since high school.
” He pauses. “I can get along with anyone, but that’s all I was doing—trying to get along.
Sam said she wasn’t happy with herself, so she wanted me to be miserable too.
Every time we broke up, she’d come back saying she wasn’t happy without me.
But she was never happy with me. And I wasn’t either.
She only wanted me when she exhausted all other sources of attention, and I didn’t like being the reason she was upset. Sound familiar?”
“Yeah,” I say solemnly.
“Turns out we’re allowed to want people who are good for us. Who knew?”
“I think I heard that somewhere recently.” I joke half-heartedly.
“I bet you did.” He laughs. “But when my dad died, I was miserable. Even now, sometimes grief still sneaks up on me. Ashley showed up at the funeral, and I was an easy target. But as soon as we got back together, she expected me to put my family aside and drive to Knoxville every weekend. She didn’t want to be a part of my life.
She wanted me to cater to her—and still complained when I did. ”
“I’m so sorry. I was always afraid I did that—expecting attention when Nathan had life-altering things to deal with. Or from you anytime you changed your plans to help me.”
“No. Lu, no. Wanting the bare minimum from a person who claims to care about you is not trying to get attention. Needing help is not trying to get attention, and whoever put that in your head is a self-absorbed jackass. Sorry. I know—language.”
“It’s fine. You just said what I’ve been thinking.”
“Good. Keep listening.” His tone turns all assertive, and dang if I don’t like it. “I love doing things for you. And since we’re getting this all out, why can’t you want attention? It’s not like you’re all that demanding. I happen to like paying attention to you. Sometimes there’s pie.”
There it is. We can’t be serious for too long.
“I promise I’ll always make sure you get pie.” I chuckle. “Why haven’t we ever talked about this stuff before?” I ask, not really expecting an answer.
“Because we don’t wallow in our problems. We take sad songs and make them better,” he says with a cheesy paraphrase of my favorite song. “It’s what we do.”
If he only knew what those words mean to me, or that Aunt Judy said the same thing. I bet she’s gotten a lot of mileage out of those lyrics. “Aww, you’ve been holding on to that one for a while, haven’t you? I felt your little wink and smirky-smirk through the phone.”
“It’s taken you long enough,” he says, sounding adorably devious, and then I hear a loud SCHMACK. “Did you feel that too?” he asks, and the little burst of warm tingles makes me feel like all is right in the world.
“Yep. And I didn’t even have to fix my hair that time.”
“Are you okay? Do you need koala’d?”
Hmmm, lemme think.
“I’m okay, but I wouldn’t reject a koala.” Dang eye sweats.
We’ve been talking for an hour, and I don’t want to stop. This is the most he’s ever talked about himself.
“Any more problems to solve or demons to hunt? I feel like we’ve made some good progress today.”
“We have. This isn’t really a problem, but I want to find a better job and quit Pop’s. Let me know if you see anything. I’ve been working on my resume, and I’m trying to dress like a functional adult. I need a change.”
I hear the keyboard begin and grin to myself. He sings the Billy Joel song he always sings, and this time I stay quiet, letting him get all the way through it. I remember what Aunt Judy said about him singing the words he isn’t saying.
Warmth rushes over me as he sings those words—the words he’s been singing for a year that melt me every time. When he picks the phone up again, I’m a little sniffly, but I try to hide it, unsuccessfully, it seems.
“That made you cry? You’ve had a whole year to get used to that one.”
“I guess you’re just that good,” I tell him.
“It’s probably you. Hey, Punk, one more thing and then I’m going to let you go hang out with your family.”
“Yeah?” My chest tightens, wondering what on earth he wants to tell me.
“Sam needs help with a project. I like the idea, but it’s up to you. He’ll call you.”
“What kind of project?” He should be done with summer classes, so I have no idea what he could need. I was hoping not to do anything but eat, read, and sleep this weekend. In that order.
“He’ll tell you.”
“Well, now I’m terrified.”
“Don’t be. If you have plans or you can’t, that’s okay, but if you can make it work, I think you should do it.”
“I’m leaning toward no since you won’t tell me what this project is.” I’ve made it to my mom’s driveway, and Jamie’s holding a basketball, making faces at me from the porch as I grab my phone from the holder and get out of the car.
“Keep an open mind. Sounds like you made it home.”
“Nah, this is their house. Home’s where you are.” I realize how that sounds as soon as it leaves my mouth. “I mean there, in Johnson City.”
Where my people are … who include him. I sense his amusement, but I meant what I said. Whatever. It’s true.
“Okay, Punk. Text me after you talk to Sam.”
“I will. Wait! One more thing.”
He chuckles. “What do you need?”
“The smoke detector was chirping when I left. The one in my bedroom.”
“Lucy in the Sky,” he says with mock incredulity. “Are you trying to get me into your bedroom?”
“If you can make that noise stop before I get home, then yes.” I laugh as I lug my backpack over the seat. “It’s messy. Don’t judge me.”
“If I go in your bedroom, I’ll have to snoop through everything and judge you thoroughly.”
“Go ahead. I apologize for the lack of entertainment value. Just don’t trip on my shoes. They’re everywhere.”
“I’m aware of the hazardous conditions. I’ll take care of it. Go see your mom.”
“Okay, thanks. I’ll see you soon. Bye, Jude.” I end the call and slide my phone in my pocket just in time for my sweet baby brother to wallop me in the stomach with a basketball.
“Oof! Thanks, Jamie. I missed you too.”
Welcome back, Lucy. Welcome back.