Chapter 36 #2
Another thing I like: Lollie. I thought I was getting stuck with some mean old lady when my mother sent me here but Lollie is actually awesome.
I wish I didn’t have to pick up and move all the fucking time but I’m happy I moved here.
I feel like I don’t have to worry about everything when I’m at Twin Tulip and that’s pretty cool.
I know you don’t feel the same way about your family’s farm and that’s okay. We’re coming at it from opposite directions. I’d probably hate it if I was riding your tractor.
(Is that a suitable substitution for “in your shoes” in this area? I have no clue.)
A bunch of people asked if I’m going to the harvest festival (???) this weekend. Can you explain this to me as if I’m an outsider who doesn’t set a watch by the moons and such? Do I want to go to this thing? Will I be required to harvest anything?
All the bananapants love I have to give,
★ ★ ★ ★
My once and future rescuer,
In case no one has ever told you this, you have the best heart in the whole world.
Even when you’re grouchy as fuck (see: the past two weeks straight), you do the sweetest things like taking me home when I’m stranded after the winter formal (thanks, Brett Schiveley, for leaving me at the dance because I didn’t want to go to your uncle’s lake house).
I didn’t think you were even going to the dance but there you were in your spiffy blue suit.
I never remember to plan my exits from these things but you never forget. For real, BG, you’re my best friend. Never lose that sweet heart.
Someday, I’ll rescue you.
Always,
★ ★ ★ ★
I flew through the pages until the entire duvet was covered in blue ink sunflowers and my swirling teenage penmanship.
“The stars,” I whispered to myself. “Oh my god. Oh my god. ”
“What’s that?”
I jumped out of my skin at the sound, one of the notes clutched to my chest as I whirled around to face Gennie. “I didn’t hear you come in,” I said, my heart going a hundred miles an hour.
She peered around me. “What’s that?”
“Some old letters,” I said, gathering them up.
She eyed one where I’d drawn a map of Twin Tulip on the back side. “They look like treasure maps.”
“Nope, not treasure,” I said, my words sounding as unsteady as I felt. “I know I said we’d talk but I need to make a phone call.”
“That’s okay.” She bobbed her head, still angling for a look at the letters as I shuffled them back into the box. “I’m going to read a story to my toys.”
Of course, these notes didn’t fit now that I’d unfolded them, and I wasn’t going to force them in there. These things were fifteen, sixteen years old. And he’d kept them for a reason, a reason I wasn’t prepared to comprehend.
“Sounds good,” I called after her.
Once Gennie was in her bedroom, I grabbed the box, the notes, and my laundry basket, and headed downstairs. I closed the basement door and crept down the stairs on tiptoe though I couldn’t explain precisely why I was sneaking around. It didn’t make sense but it felt extremely necessary.
Once I reached the bottom, I tapped Jaime’s contact and held the phone out in front of me, waiting for her to pick up.
When her face finally appeared on the screen, I blurted out, “Noah just told me that he loves me and I asked him for proof and I’m freaking out because I forgot all about the letters I wrote him in high school—which he kept—and all of this is too much. It’s too much , Jaime.”
She twisted her hair over her shoulder, saying, “Slow down, slow down. Why are we frazzled about this? I think I told you that he loved you when I was stuck in that tire swing of yours.”
“Because he also said he’s loved me for a really long time,” I said, all the words rushing out at once. “Since we were teenagers. And then he left a bunch of notes I’d written back in high school and I realized I used to draw stars at the end instead of signing my name.”
She blinked at me. “And?” I unfolded one of the notes, held it up to the screen. “Wait, wait, wait. There is no way. Holy bananas, doll. Did he…name his farm after you?”
“Maybe?” I scanned the note again. “I used to call him Blue Gray. Because he was sad and moody. And I was weird and thought I could read auras back then.”
“You’re still weird but we can’t pretend it’s a coincidence that his farm’s logo is made up of the exact stars you drew on a blue-gray background.”
“Why would he do that?”
She blinked at me. “Other than wanting a constant reminder of you?”
“He never said anything. I mean, we were friends but”—I sighed, rubbed my forehead—“but I never knew.”
“It seems he’s forgiven you for that oversight.” When I didn’t respond, Jaime hummed to herself for a second. “I’m going to miss the shit out of you.”
“What?”
“I’ll visit as much as I can. Long weekends, holidays, summers.
You might have to pick me up—is there a train to Rhode Island?
I’m not sure—but I’m going to visit. You’re family to me.
Just because you have your storybook town and your storybook husband doesn’t mean you can blow off the chaotic bisexual friend. ”
“What the hell are you talking about?”
She rolled her eyes. “He loves you, Shay. He’s loved you even longer than I have and he has the evidence to back it up. Add that to the fact he married you so you could get your granny’s farm and he took down Xavier in the middle of the farmers market, and you know what comes next.”
Tears filled my eyes as I said, “But I don’t know.”
“Yes, doll, you do. You let him love you. You live your happy life with your bizarre little tulip farm and his precious pirate niece. You take the job at that school—first grade so we can share plans, please—and you stay there. With the husband who loves you so much he wanted to see your little star drawing every single day, even before you came back to him.”
“But what if—”
“Nope.” She held up a hand. “No. We’re not playing What If.
We’re playing Daddy Bread Baker Loves You.
We’re not spending our time looking for loose threads or sinkholes.
We’re not comparing him to the ex and his great many red flags.
We’re taking the incontrovertible proof that your husband provided you today—the proof you asked for—and believing in it. ”
“But what if he changes his mind?”
“You have a lot of practice at ignoring all the reasons a situation is wrong for you so it’s going to take some time to recognize why it’s right.
You’ll just have to trust me on this.” She sighed.
“You just don’t see the way he looks at you.
If you could, you’d know what I do, which is that he made up his mind a long, long time ago and he’s been waiting on you to make up yours. ”
I stared across the basement for a minute. There were boxes stacked in one corner and some old furniture in the other. It was all precise and tidy, just as Noah would have it. Eventually, I said, “I don’t know how to do this.”
“Then tell him that.”
“I just—I don’t know—I know he’s going to leave. Or he’ll realize he wants to leave but can’t because he’s trapped in this thing with me or it would hurt Gennie or—”
“Tell him that too,” she said. “Tell him you’ve road tested a whole lot of abandonment issues and the ex really topped that situation off.
Especially when you met with him against my advice a few weeks ago.
Tell him you’re extra jumbled and mumbled from that, and you’re trying to find your way through it.
Tell him what’s in your head right now.”
“What if I don’t live up to the fantasy he’s been carrying around since high school?”
She snorted. “That’s actually hilarious because it hasn’t been a fantasy for months. You’re married, doll. You live with him, you have lots of wild sex with him, and you sort of have a kid together. I think you can put those worries to bed—unless he’s busy railing you in it.”
“James.”
“Speaking of which, why isn’t he railing you right now? That sort of declaration requires the immediate removal of all clothes and inhibitions. You should have this convo naked. It would go much better.”
“He went out to check on the fences,” I said with a shrug. “But”—I frowned at the time on my screen, realizing I’d lost a full hour to those old notes—“it shouldn’t take this long.”
“The many joys of farm life,” she murmured. “Go find your husband. Tell him you love him and you’re not sure how to make it work but you want to try.”
“Can I use those exact words?”
“Is there a guest room at your house and a seat around your holiday table for me?”
“Always,” I said.
“Then yes, by all means, borrow all of my words.” She grinned, adding, “I love you and I want the best things for you.”
“I love you and I want the best things for you too.”
“Okay. Enough of this.” She sniffled and dabbed at her eyes.
“I’m meeting some swingers for dinner and I need to put my face together.
You need to find your husband and give yourself permission to trust big, amazing, scary things.
Maybe you also need to give him permission to love you the way he’s always wanted.
If he’s felt like this since high school, maybe it’s time for you to step up and do the hard work. ”
I nodded. If all of this meant what it seemed to mean then I didn’t back Noah into a fake marriage corner any more than he needed me to defend against Christiane. He might’ve rescued me but he did it because he wanted to—because he wanted me.
I felt self-important and silly thinking that but a small piece of me recognized the truth and that piece shouted over all the other pieces playing the same old broken record of no one wants you and they’ll leave just like they always do .
Noah wouldn’t leave. Not even if I left him.
When the call ended, I sat there for a minute, searching for homes for all the new emotions filling my chest. I pulled in several deep breaths and pushed to my feet, the notes and laundry basket under my arm.