32. She Listened to Advice
She Listened to Advice
Gwen
The bathroom door flew open, and I skated across the tiles, stumbling in front of the toilet with barely a second to spare. The cheese and gherkin nibblies didn’t look as yummy the second time around.
My whole world was off-kilter.
Burning up, freezing, my body in shock, I didn’t make it to the sink to wash my face. The cold, tiled wall was as far as I got. I slid to the floor and slumped in a heap in the corner.
Footsteps stopped outside the door. The handle turned, and without any strength to call out, I flattened myself against the wall and shielded my face with my shoulder.
“Gwen.” Toby’s voice was unbearably gentle.
“Go away,” I managed to choke out.
His steps were cautious. “And miss the chance of reliving the glory days of your pregnancy?” He touched a hand to my shoulder before he reached past me to flush the toilet. “Not a chance.”
He flicked on the faucet, grabbed a washcloth off the hook, and rinsed it under the water. He crouched behind me.
“Here,” he said.
A few drops of water plopped on the tiles as the cloth dangled from his fingers until I grabbed it. I dabbed it over my face. When I didn’t pass it back to him, he gently pried it from my fingers, balled it up in his fist, and shot it into the sink.
He was quiet for a moment before he sank to the floor behind me. There wasn’t enough room for his legs to stretch out. Being all scrunched up didn’t bother him, but he was tentative, his hand pulling back before it settled on the curve of my stomach. He tucked my head under his chin.
“How many mornings did we sit on the bathroom floor like this when you were pregnant?” he asked.
“Um…” I hid a smile. “All of them?”
“Yeah.”
For a man talking about vomit, he sounded happy. Maybe he wished we could rewind time and live in those moments before the whole world turned upside down. I did.
“Gwen,” he said, his voice all softness again.
“You need to talk to someone.” I started to protest, but he urged me to listen by whispering a “Shh” in my ear.
“I’m putting my foot down. You’re not okay.
One mention of Ian, and you completely shut down.
There was always a lot of old news filling up space in your head.
All the years dealing with your mother…and mine.
Your old job. Liam’s back, too. I know it weighs you down. I can see it in everything you do.”
His words coiled tight around my chest. “You think I’m a failure—”
“How can you possibly fail at anything when you’re killing yourself to be so damn perfect all the time?”
“I need to be.”
Was it one mistake or ten before I ended up like my mother? Where was the tipping point? What was the mistake that ruined a childhood? There was no margin for error when you didn’t know the benchmark.
“You don’t .” Toby’s sigh was all frustration.
“Noah doesn’t need to do six hundred activities a day, and even though you are Super Mama, you don’t need to be.
You sure as hell don’t need to do a job that bores you to tears to earn mega dollary-doos.
You also don’t need to drink those green smoothies I know you secretly hate because you’re worried about fitting into your old clothes.
Screw that. Buy new clothes.” He squeezed the plump roll of my hip and sighed softly.
“I think these curvy bits are perfection even if you don’t. ”
I batted away his words to focus on the safe ones. “I don’t hate the smoothies.”
His chest rumbled with a laugh. “Tell that to your face the next time you drink one.” He leaned closer to murmur gently, “And I know what you did just then, too. Changing the subject. That’s cool.
I’ll say what I need to say anyway, so listen up.
You don’t need to be perfect. No one is.
You come damn close, but even a Honda Buffalo Pro breaks down sometimes. ”
My eyebrows popped up. “Sorry.” I turned my head to make sure he’d see my scowl. “Did you just compare me to a lawn mower?”
“The very best lawn mower. Trust me, it doesn’t get much better than those Hondas.”
I responded to his enormous smile with a droll expression. “I guess I’ve found the first issue to workshop with a psychologist,” I joked. “Tell me, smart therapist person, why does my husband compare me to yard equipment?”
Toby grinned. “All I’m hearing is that you’re going to talk to someone.”
“Ye-yeah.” I was terrified, but it couldn’t make anything worse, could it? “I’ll find someone and make an appointment.”
“That’s my girl. Would you consider talking to the police—”
“Absolutely not.”
“Gwen—”
“No way. No police. But a therapist…maybe. Okay?”
“No, but I’ll take the small win for now.”
We stayed huddled in silence for a few more minutes until I wriggled out of Toby’s arms and forced myself onto shaky legs.
He never left my side. He helped me clean up and told me I was “flipping gorgeous,” even though the face staring back at me in the mirror was a ghost. He stuck with me until I stopped outside the living room.
“I should probably try explaining everything to Mar,” I said.
“Want me to stick around for moral support?”
I shook my head. “I need to have a go on my own.”
His hand settled in the dip in my back. “Knock ’em dead, doll.” He gently nudged me forward.
Marnie was curled up on the couch, staring at the TV but not really watching. My heart fluttered in my chest. I glanced back at Toby. He shooed me on with a smile, and I shuffled over, my cautious steps just loud enough for Marnie to hear over the ads. Her head whipped around.
“Gwen, I—” Her face scrunched up. She swiped her nose with the sleeve of her cardigan. “I’m so sorry.”
She had nothing to be sorry for. I wasn’t sure who took the first step, but she hopped off the couch, and my feet flew across the room. Her arms got around me first, though, and she just about crushed the life out of me.
Out of the corner of my eye, I spotted Toby slip past us, slide the pizza box off the table, and with a wink, he silently escaped the living room without being noticed.
I let Marnie go and flopped on the couch, but she eased down to perch on the very edge with her gaze never leaving her hands.
“I know I said something wrong,” she said.
“You didn’t. That was all me. We’re good.”
Marnie’s brows pulled together. I knew her too well. Her mind was turning over a thought she was unsure about saying out loud.
“You didn’t tell me much about why Toby suddenly decided to take a vacation,” she said. “I quizzed him, too, you know? He brushed me off, cracking jokes and distracting me until I forgot what I asked him. Classic Tobes. All he said was that there was a problem with Ian.”
“There…was…”
She frowned. “I saw Ian at the markets this morning.”
“O-oh?”
“ Oh , is right. He had a cast on his nose, his arm was in a sling, and his face was all sorts of purple and green. Whatever happened between those guys wasn’t just a problem. Toby utterly flattened him, didn’t he?”
I ducked my head to hide my grimace. “You know what Toby’s like.”
“I do. All action, no thought, but he doesn’t lose control. Not like that. The fight was about something big, wasn’t it?”
My mouth firmly shut, I darted my eyes away, unsure if I could answer her. In the end, all I did was nod.
Marnie continued, but her voice wavered.
“I was in my studio this afternoon running through all the possibilities of what would make Toby lose his shit. Every time I thought about what Ian could’ve done, I remembered our conversation on the day of the yard sale…
about keeping your guard up around him…” She twisted her patchwork skirt in nervous fingers. “Gwen, did something like that happen?”
I bit down on my lip, still not saying a word, but I managed another nod.
“I knew it. In my heart…I just…” She shook her head as she wiped her nose after another teary sniffle.
A deep pool of shame sloshed around in my stomach. “He came over one morning… And he…” I lifted a shoulder, hoping that filled in the blanks. I wasn’t ready to admit the full extent of what happened to anyone yet—including myself.
“My God, Gwen, did Ian—” She slapped a hand over her mouth, eyes wide and panicked.
“No, he didn’t…” I dragged in a breath. “Not exactly. It was kissing…and other…stuff.” My fingertips went white when I dug them into my skin. I didn’t want to think about any of the other stuff. “It was my fault.”
“Don’t you dare blame yourself. Don’t . Us women, we’re always shouldering the blame for shitty men doing shitty things.”
“I said he could kiss me.”
“Was this before or after he got all up in your head? Some men are predictable little shits. What tactic did he use? I bet I can guess. The creepster special of love bombing?” She paused, waiting for a reaction.
“Or did he go full dirtbag and make you question if you’re pretty or pit your self-worth against the homewrecker? ”
Too many punches hit me all at once. “Mar…” A breath gasped in.
“So, all of the above, then.” She sighed. “I should’ve beaten his ass the day of the yard sale when I had the chance. I’m so sorry this happened to you. Fuck Ian. Fuck. Him .” She smacked one of the pillows with her fist before flashing me a sheepish smile. “Did Toby tell you to report Ian?”
“He did.”
“He sure is on fire lately, huh? And will you—report Ian, I mean?”
I shook my head. “Not right now.” The humiliation of walking into a police station and desecrating what was left of my reputation was not on my to-do list.
“Come here, you.” Marnie’s arm went around me.
“I’m not happy about it, but I respect you need to make decisions on your own timetable.
” She hugged me, her face wet against my hair.
“I’m not here to judge. I’m just here . I’m glad you told me about Ian, but I understand some secrets feel too big to share with other people straight away. ”
“Thanks for understanding, Mar.”
She pulled away to give me a reassuring smile. “Our friendship is the best thing in my life. I don’t know what I’d do without you.” She wiped away the last tears crisscrossing her cheeks. “And even though you’re good at hiding your feelings, I think you kinda like me, too.”
I rolled my eyes. “Oh, yeah, kinda.”
“And I’ll always be hanging around if you want to talk. All I’ll say in my further unsolicited advice is that it’s okay for you to have problems, too.”
Those words were hard to hear. Exhausted, not wanting to confront those ghosts yet, I tried to ease the tension by cracking an uncertain smile and redirecting the conversation. “What if the problem is Toby’s latest obsession with the hardware store?”
Marnie loaded up a cracker with cheese and one of my teeny gherkins. “Babe, does he need an intervention?” Rolling her eyes, she passed me the snack. “How many times has he gone in the last three days?”
“Officially, five.”
“Unofficially?” Laughing, she shook her head and reached for her wine glass.
“Well…”
My problems weren’t buried anymore, just parked. Even that was a big step for me.
One day, I’d be ready to talk.
Soon.