Chapter 15 #3
His hands rubbed up her back, and he realized belatedly she’d let her shirt fall to the floor and she was in his arms in nothing but her bra.
He supposed it was no different from a hug in a bikini at the lake.
Not that they had ever really done that, at least not recently.
But still, in this moment, he wasn’t sitting here thinking about Julia’s semi-nakedness beneath the palms of his hands.
And neither was she, he hazarded to guess, as he felt her relax incrementally until her body was somewhat lax in his arms, though she still made no attempt to hug him back.
He didn’t care.
He continued to hold her, pressing his lips to the top of her head and keeping her close to him, feeling her heart pound against his stomach, wondering if she could feel his heart beating in her ear.
The anger drained from him slowly until all that was left was the bitter tang of regret and guilt.
“I’m an ass,” he muttered into her hair, inhaling the sweat-dampened scent of her familiar shampoo.
“Yeah,” she agreed, her voice still slurred and watery. It was then that he felt the wetness on his chest. “You are.”
“I shouldn’t have said what I said—”
“It’s been ten years.”
The words came out against the fabric of his shirt, buried in the material and in the dampness of her tears, but he could still make them out just barely.
Ten years.
It took him less than a second to realize what it was she was referring to. The only monumental thing that had happened when they were ten—truth be told, the only real, major thing that had happened in his entire life up until this point—remained one of his clearest memories.
Julia’s mom had left.
It had been around this time of year, too: spring, as the leaves were blooming on the trees and the weather was getting warmer.
He remembered because his parents had had to convince her dad to come up to the cottage that year, only a few short months after Rebecca had left for good.
How awkward and painful it had been for the three adults, feeling the absence of their fourth so acutely as they tried to maintain a sense of normalcy for the kids—and probably for themselves as well.
He remembered small, sharp things. Memories from back home in Buffalo whenever he would visit Julia’s house after her mom had left.
Her, sitting on the front steps at night, hair ashen and loose around her face, waiting for headlights that never came.
Her dad pretending not to notice the way she checked the window every time a car passed.
Ethan had found out one year that it hadn’t even been the first time Rebecca had left them.
There had been other times in the past, lasting only a day or two, at most a week, when she would disappear and leave no notice or trace of where she had gone or when she would be back.
And then she’d return as if nothing had happened, and the family would be so relieved, they wouldn’t question it, at least not out loud.
He ached at imagining the toll it would take, even now, thinking it was only a matter of time before she was back. Always wondering, always waiting.
Julia had confided in Ethan on one of their many nights at the dock one summer.
She had told him about fiercely hushed fights in the dark.
About the way her mother could be light and laughter on some days, performing plays with Julia or baking dozens of cookies, and then on others she would spend hours lying in bed, unable to move or even speak, only able to turn away from her begging daughter and close her dark-ringed eyes.
It made his own issues and memories—coming downstairs one morning to find his mom still in her nightgown, staring at the empty wine bottle after one of her most recent losses, looking up at him like she didn’t recognize him—seem petty and insignificant by comparison.
He realized that Julia’s arms had wrapped around him finally, squeezing him tightly to her. She swayed a bit, unsteady on her feet, obviously still feeling the effects of the alcohol and the overall chaos of the night.
“We’ve done okay,” he said, lips still in her hair. “These past ten years. You’ve done okay. You’ve done good, Gem. Really good.”
She would have been proud didn’t sit right. She could have been proud if she had stayed.
“You should be proud” is what he said instead. “I know I am.” He felt the sob catching in her throat at his words.
“Look how far you’ve come,” he continued.
“What you’ve achieved. And you have so much more to do.
” He pulled back slightly so he could look her in the eyes, tilting her chin up with his forefinger curled underneath it.
Tapping and then pressing into her lower lip with his thumb before he could help himself.
“And I know you’re going to fucking kill it.
Whatever you want to do, it’s going to happen.
You can do anything, Gem. And I’ll be there with you every step of the way. ”
“Promise?” Her nose was red, her eyes were watery and puffy, and she was the most goddamn beautiful sight he’d ever seen.
“I promise,” he said with a nod, his voice thick no matter how many times he swallowed. “Always.”