10. Fallon
Chapter ten
Fallon
“Corbin and I were just saying you probably wouldn’t show up since neither of us gave you my new address. Guess you’re resourceful,” I yell toward the open window of his truck.
Seeing the man responsible for Rhett’s accident hasn’t brought up as many emotions as I would’ve thought. The move is way more emotional for me than Jeb is. He and I have a connection—a trauma bond, if you will—but Jeb could be Corbin’s friend or a co-worker. I don’t look at him and think that’s the man who killed Rhett .
He doesn’t bring out any type of negative response in me. My central nervous system is perfectly level around Jeb. Even with his nervous energy, I enjoy his presence.
Jeb walks around the front of his Ford pick-up. He was driving an newer Tacoma when he hit Rhett, although I can’t remember its color. I definitely knew at some point, but I probably blocked it out.
He rounds the bumper, reaching for the passenger-side door. “Found your place by happenstance, on the way to your old place,” he says back, not quite yelling, but loud enough that I hear him.
Holding a stack of pizza boxes, he knocks the door shut with his hip. I guess he took Corbin’s demands seriously. My gaze quickly travels from the pizzas to his hair. Holy hell, that’s what’s different. He looks… dare I say it… half alive. Which is a marked improvement from yesterday’s half dead.
His hair is trimmed so it’s longer hair on the top, tapered on the sides. A notable change from the overgrown mushroom cloud he had yesterday.
“Nice haircut,” I shout across the yard.
He doesn’t respond, but keeps walking toward the house.
“Do you live around here?” I change the topic. It wouldn’t make sense to travel this road from town to my old house.
“My parents do. Well, er, I do too. For now,” he stammers.
“Great neighborhood, I think. Hopefully it starts to feel like home.”
“Fallon, I’m so sorry.” Jeb’s eyes are wide and watering, exactly like the sad emoji.
“You’re going to have to stop saying that.” I place my hand on his shoulder. “I know you’re sorry. I’m sorry, too. None of us deserved what happened that day, but it did happen. And we need to move forward. I can’t stand to stay in limbo like this for the rest of my life. I just can’t. It’s taking a toll on me, just like it is you.”
“How can I move forward when Rhett can't?” His voice cracks and I almost start to cry, but I hold it in.
Hell, I’ve had that thought so many times since that day. So, so many times. It’s part of grieving. There’s no blanket answer to his question. For me, it’s because I know he would want me to. But Jeb doesn’t know that. He doesn’t know if Rhett would want him to move on or want him dead for the heartache he’s caused me and his family.
“Life moves you forward whether you want it or not.” I give a random half-ass philosophical answer- one I made up on the fly. It’s true, though, I guess. “Time heals.”
I attempt to grab the pizzas from him, but he holds on tight. I start toward the front of the house, waving for him to follow.
“The house looks great,” he says as he steps inside the navy bungalow, yellow shutters flanking the windows. “I was here a few times when Mrs. Montgomery lived here, but it didn’t look like this.”
“Her nephew fixed it up a bit after she went to assisted living. He did an impressive job,” I say, pointing to the reclaimed-wood barn-style table. “You can put the pizzas here.”
“Jebby-boy, you bring the sausage and pep that I asked for?” Corbin holds his hand up for Jeb to fist-bump him, and Jeb does.
“Yes, I got a few options for Fallon too. I forgot to ask what kind you like.” He shifts his focus from my brother to me.
“I’ll eat whatever, but thanks for thinking of me.” I tuck my chin. “Grab a slice, and let’s eat on the deck, guys. I’ve been looking forward to dinner and a view for a few weeks.”
The screened-in deck expands the length of the house, with large ceilings and a tall peak in the center. It’s already one of my favorite spots in the house. My parents splurged and gifted me new furniture for the deck—an outdoor sectional, some end tables, a picnic table, a ceiling fan, a TV in the corner.
Not to mention, out of all the homes on River Road, this one has the best view of the Chetta River. Tomorrow, I’ll wake early enough to catch the sun peeking over the forest of trees to the left and expansive farmland to the right on the opposite side of the Chetta. I close my eyes for a second to picture the soft blues, pinks, and flecks of gold that will pepper the sky before the world wakes.
Rhett always liked a good sunrise. He’d hunt and fish in the wee hours of the morning. He never went to church but always said he felt God in the crisp new beginnings of dawn. With my coffee cup on the dock tomorrow, I’ll be with God and Rhett.
“Jeb Baker in the flesh, eh?” Corbin breaks my trance, lifting a cheesy slice of pepperoni and sausage pizza to his mouth.
“What does that even mean, Corbin?” I interrupt before Jeb tries to answer.
“Just never thought we’d hang out with him twice in a row, Fal. He’s got balls coming here to help you out. I like it.” He winks at Jeb, and I want to kick him under the picnic table.
“Well, you invited him, Corbin. Actually, I’m pretty sure you demanded he bring pizza.” Jeb shifts on his feet.
“I’m happy to help with anything,” Jeb replies, taking small bites of his slice.
“We should have plenty of time to grab all the boxes and the furniture from the trailer and my car. Just put everything in the front room, and I’ll sort it from there; that would be a big help. But in the meantime, take a seat while you eat.”
“Sounds good.” Jeb stiffens on the bench next to me.
When we finish our pizza, Corbin and Jeb maneuver the furniture while I carry some lighter boxes. When they finish hauling everything in, they start on the larger boxes. It will be a daunting few days to arrange the house and put everything away, but I already feel a little bit lighter than I did yesterday.
I had a good, long cry this morning in the old house. It’s completely empty now, waiting for its new owners.
If the walls could talk…
They saw Rhett slap my ass countless times while I was bent over the dishwasher. They saw the quiet nights we’d snuggle on the couch together, making love in front of the fireplace. They saw our spats, our giggles, our visions for the future. They know where we’d extend the garden and put a shed for our future babies’ toys.
It sucks. It sucks so bad, but I just can’t live in that house anymore. In a different life, all of those dreams would come true. Just… not in this one. As much as I want to remember Rhett—commemorate and memorialize him—I can’t see memories of him every waking minute. It’s making me sick to my stomach. It’s not healthy.
This river cottage is a fresh start, one that I desperately need. I’m pretty sure Mrs. Montgomery understands that as well as I do. She moved to assisted living with plans to sell the house, unable to bear living here without Mr. Montgomery. She goes to church with my mom, and when my mom asked around for a place I could rent, she excitedly offered me this one.
A past left behind for her is a new beginning for me.
It’s wild how six months feels like just yesterday, but also feels like a lifetime ago. It’s so easy to lose all concept of time.
“Thanks again for your help, Jeb.” I follow as he walks to his truck after a long evening of lifting boxes and listening to Corbin’s heavy metal workout music. The cool breeze feels nice after sweating our asses off earlier. Corbin left a few minutes ago, needing to head home to change before meeting up with Oak and some of his other friends for trivia night at Boone’s Pub.
“Anything you need, I’m here for you. I really am so heartbroken about the whole thing. You shouldn’t have to move. I shouldn’t even know you, at least not under these circumstances.”
“Can I have another hug?” I repeat my same words from yesterday, even though we’re both sweaty.
I once heard that the thing elderly people miss the most in old age is touch. Their spouse dies, and their kids get older; then no one touches them. They miss the intimacy of it. It’s why so many older folks want to hug children, or get a little lap dog to try to fill that need.
I understand completely because I feel the same way. No one touches me anymore. Not like I was used to being touched when Rhett was around. Holding hands, snuggling, sleeping with our legs tangled. Now, I feel the same fucking way as the elderly.
I yearn to be touched. It’s something I crave all the time. As much as I snuggle into my weighted blanket, it doesn’t quite do the trick.
Plus, it wouldn’t feel right to have Jeb leave after such an exhausting night without showing him we can get through this. Jeb said he’d be here for anything I need, but in reality, I might never see him again. This could be our goodbye—maybe I could give him some closure.
Jeb nods slightly, then wraps his arms around me, resting his chin on the top of my head. Our embrace is a hundred times more comfortable than our last hug, cramped in the hallway in the old house.
I inhale deeply, blowing out slowly. My shoulders relax, my heart rate calming, even if it’s just for a few seconds. I swear I can feel him relax, too.
Tonight’s my first night in the new house by myself. Nothing has been put away, no food in the fridge. I’m about to be in way over my head when I walk back through those doors.
And to be honest, I’m kind of scared. I know the creaks and hums of my old house. I know the neighbors. I don’t know the sounds of this house and I have a feeling I won’t get much sleep tonight.
But for now, I feel secure. I just need someone to protect me for a minute, to give me the confidence to get through my first night here.
Jeb smells like the woods, like pine or cedar. Rhett always smelled like fresh laundry, which is funny since he was out in the woods any chance he got.
I take a step back to watch as a tear falls from his eye, igniting my own to spill over, too.
“I think Rhett’s probably laughing at us right now,” I say, wiping under my eyes. “Me hugging the man who was responsible for his death. No offense,” I add on, realizing too late that my statement probably made him feel terrible.
“Think he would’ve liked this house?” Jeb looks past me toward the cottage. It catches me off guard because he hasn’t spoken about Rhett.
“No, not at all. He’d like it for a weekend, but he hated neighborhoods, and even though this is on the outskirts, he’d say there’s not enough land.” I turn to look at my new house; grown shrubs line the flowerbed, and ivy vines creep up the chimney.
There are neighbors to the right and across the street, although none of them can be seen from the house. I start to laugh. “Rhett used to say ‘If they’re close enough to hear me fart, they’re too close.’”
“Guess it depends on how loud he farts.” The ghost of a smile dances on Jeb’s lips.
“Loud enough he wouldn’t want to live here.” I crack a smile.
“And what about you?” he asks. “Do you think you’ll grow to like this house?”
“Can’t beat this view, I fear. I’m just nervous about my first night. I know I’ll be all right, but it’s still nerve-wracking. Finding strength can be so exhausting.”
“Your strength makes me want to do better.” He stutters a bit before he finishes his sentence.
“It’ll be worth it in the end.” I put my hand on his shoulder. “Do something that requires strength. Mental strength. It will exhaust you, but you’ll figure out how much better you’ll feel when you do hard things.”