Chapter 31 Grey
GREY
I’ve run into a ditch. Not literally, but it’s like I lost control and slammed face-first into a wall of dirt. The sides are high, the sky distant, and I’m not sure how to get out of it. Go forward? Backward? Try to climb?
I made a mistake lying to my mother. I was wrong to storm out when Everly blurted the truth about being married.
But she said something else, too.
As I sit in the same pew at the church that I recently vacated, the words come back. “I didn’t tell them that I love you.”
It’s like the bottom drops out from the ditch. Shame and embarrassment and regret rain down on top of me, burying me.
I blink a few times, replaying the scene in Mrs. Nelson’s kitchen.
Everly confessed that we’re actually married.
I felt put on the spot, and before I could backtrack, I got defensive. When plays don’t go as planned and the guys in the locker room get heated and hurl insults at each other, Hammer always says the only place defense belongs is on the field.
Why did I respond that way? Why did I say the thing about Everly lying to the insurance company? It was a low blow. I broke our rules with a comment intended to silence her.
Why?
Because I didn’t want my mother or her friends to think poorly of me for marrying someone for reasons of convenience. Because I married for reasons apart from love.
I did it because my brother’s friend said someone he knew needed help. Because it felt right, generous.
I didn’t undo it when I had the opportunity because I needed a wife on paper for custody. Because that was the right thing to do for Sonny’s welfare.
But I know my mother would’ve understood if I’d just started with the truth. Right?
I’m at a crossroads. I could venture back into the void, but Everly busted up my stone walls and filled in the holes. She woke me up from a long slumber. I trust her. Feel safe with her.
A rectangle of light brightens the carpet along the aisle as the door to the church opens and closes.
My mother was here for less than five minutes. We made our apologies, but I don’t feel forgiven. I still feel wrong, all wrong. Though I suppose that’s better than the deep pit of emptiness where I felt nothing for the last several months.
After I let out a breath, Everly slides onto the wooden bench beside me.
Despite what happened, her presence is welcome. A relief. Being near her, even thinking about her, makes my heart beat faster and my body flood with warmth.
Then why did I say something to hurt her? Why did I lie? Why did I run when she said she loved me?
“Grey, we need to talk. I’m guessing you don’t want to, but give me one grunt for yes and two for no. Okay?” Her voice is soft, and understanding. She is so gentle.
Has Everly already forgiven me? If so, I have to forgive myself and make things right.
Turning toward her on the seat, our knees bump.
The thrill that rushes across my skin tells me more than my thoughts do about how I truly feel about her.
I start with a sputter, but my words quickly smooth out.
“I’ll give you more than that, Everly,” I say.
“I’ll give you an apology. I’m sorry I lied. I’m sorry that I ran out.”
“I’m sorry I didn’t tell you how I feel about you at a more opportune moment.”
Emotions scramble in my mind. I don’t know how to accept the offer she’s given, the verbal expression of how she feels. What do I say? Before I can summon a response, she continues.
“I was hurt that you didn’t tell your mother the truth, even if you don’t feel the way I do. I mean, I didn’t love you when we got married, but I do now.” Her cheeks stain pink.
The empty space that I’ve dwelled in for so many months opens up.
It’s almost overwhelming. I can’t find my footing or where it begins or ends.
But then light pours in as Everly looks at me with her spring-green eyes.
I can’t help but inhale her sweet sunshine scent.
Her smile and easy laughter are addictive and I want more. I want it all.
She loves me. I’ve never before been the recipient of this kind of intense, unrelenting, unapologetic, all-encompassing love. And I love her too. I love Everly with all of me and am going to tell her.
But the only thing that comes out of me is a grunt.
She sits up straight, drawing away from me slightly.
I try again. “Everly—” My voice is a growl and that won’t do.
She tilts her head to the side and her arms fold in front of her chest.
Closing my eyes, I try a third time. “Jeg elsker deg.”
She shakes her head. “I don’t know what that means, but it sounded like you just angrily and begrudgingly said that you don’t hate me.”
I try again, but it hardly sounds better.
“Why so angry, Greyson?”
I scrub my hand down my face. “I’m not good at this. I feel a lot of things right now. It’s hard for me to name emotions other than animosity toward the opposition when on the field, emptiness and anger when it comes to my brother.”
“But you like things too, right? Ice cream, football, Sonny.” Here she goes, always able to say the right thing.
Like the times Bran and I parachuted out of planes, I take the plunge and blurt, “I like you, Everly.”
“That’s a start, but what does jeg elsker deg mean? Sonny said it too.” Hearing her stumble through the Norwegian pronunciation, the English translation comes to my lips.
This time, I don’t need to think. I take her hands in mine. The words, the truth, channel out of me effortlessly. “Everly, as God in this holy church is my witness, I love you.” I glance at the rings on our fingers.
She leans back as though in shock. “What?”
I gather her into my arms and hold her tight. I feel her chest against mine, her heartbeat, the rhythm of her breath. I can have this for the rest of our lives if I can just get out of my own way.
When we part, I say, “Everly, I put this ring on this morning because I’ve fallen in love with you.
We’ve done things backward, I suppose, but I won’t deny my feelings for you to my mother or anyone else again.
Back there, I got scared. I felt defensive when we were in the kitchen.
I was angry at myself for lying. It all came out wrong and I’m sorry. ”
“I forgive you,” she says.
Those three simple words make me thank God Almighty. I say, “I’m grateful for that. I’m going to admit that I’m new to this. I’ve never been married before. Never truly loved someone before, not like this.”
“I haven’t either, but we have our Marriage for Real Club rule. We talk about the Marriage Club.”
“I’d like that,” I say.
“I suppose it’s not all that common to get married and then fall in love.”
Our eyes meet. Hers glisten from recent tears and I kiss her cheeks and then press my mouth to hers for a kiss, sealing my intention to honor Everly as my wife.
When we part, she says, “What other rules should we have for our Marriage Club?”
I smile. “Okay. Number one. We talk about the Marriage Club.”
“Number two, we talk about the Marriage Club.”
Our laughter echoes in the church. My goodness, it feels good.
“Three,” I start. “We’ll always tell each other the truth.”
“Number four. And how we feel, even if we’re not entirely sure or know how to name it.”
“Can I use the grunting method of communication until I warm up to that?” I ask.
She nudges me with her shoulder. “No, you cannot. That was a one-time offer.”
We laugh again.
“I think we’re off to a good start,” Everly says, getting up. “We’ll keep adding to it.”
“Do you suppose I can go finish my slice of blueberry pie?” I ask.
“As long as you tell me how to say I love you too in Norwegian.”
Everly and I spend the rest of the afternoon in Mrs. Nelson’s kitchen before we go back to my mother’s house for dinner. She and I haven’t talked about Bran yet, but the door has been opened and I know that when we have a chance alone, we will.
Even though Mom only just met Everly, it seems like the two women already bonded and have known each other for ages. Not only that, but they’re all about Sonny, making me feel like I have a family again.
I wonder what it would be like to spend Christmas here—though after losing Bran, it’s never been the same.
Without my brother and father, the house feels lonely.
I worry about my mom being alone through the harsh winters, but she has the Pies and Spies group of friends and as she always assures me, she has Jesus.
Even so, I don’t understand how she can stay here. For me, it’s impossible to walk into my childhood home without feeling the strain of loss—Dad, Bran, and how I felt like I’ve let them down.
I glance at a framed photo of Bran in uniform, gazing innocently and proudly into the future. A future he’d never experience. The guilt of living when my brother didn’t threatens to consume me.
While Mom, Everly, and Sonny make homemade play-dough, I step outside. Thunder and lightning roll and bolt through me. My fists clench. I want to punch something so I can squash down the powerful emotions rising to the surface.
I miss Bran, but I’m still mad at myself.
A grunt stomps its way out of my chest and I consider driving my fist into the wall of the shed on the edge of the property. Throbbing pain would be a good distraction from the ache in my chest.
As I clench my fists, the late-day sun glints off my wedding ring.
I can hardly believe it’s real, but the earnestness in Everly’s eyes when we were in the church, and the rapid thump in my heart anytime I think about her, tell me this is my new life and it’s time to leave the old one behind.
I’ve been thinking about retiring, but the game has been my outlet and input for who I am. Or who I thought I was.
But who do Everly and Sonny need me to be?
Am I ready to leave the Bruisers behind? Say goodbye to the field and hello to farm and family? I can’t very well play football forever, but I can’t let the guys down by bowing out now.
I also don’t know what Everly and I will do when the season starts.
But my thoughts mute when a radiant beam of sunshine parts the clouds, reminding me of the living, breathing beam of light I married.
I don’t want to start the clock for when we’ll have to make big decisions or potentially enact MOC Club rule number three.