35. Enjoy It
Enjoy It
Vedder
I’d done it now. Good going, asshole.
She dismissed the kids, which left us in the kitchen, alone in the heavy silence. She was ready to fall, and I was the only thing keeping her up. I lowered her gently to her wheelchair, making sure that the breaks were down so she didn’t slip.
“You don’t get to talk to him like that.” I couldn’t imagine what strength she needed to say that while also being in unimaginable pain.
I’d come in because I’d heard the yelling. I came in to help.
But I’d made it so much worse.
She was right. I lost my temper on the boy because…
because I liked him. Because I was desperate for him to turn out alright.
Because Marc was me in a lot of ways. And when I was his age, I had a fork in the road.
I could have chosen to become as abusive as the “men” who had been my examples in life, or I could have gone off and chosen my own way, carving my own path.
As winding and fucked up as my life had been, I’d ended up here.
And at the very least, I could look myself in the mirror and not hate the person I saw there. I could be in my own head, in my thoughts, and it wasn’t an absolute hellscape.
“I know, angel.”
She was right.
“You don’t ever get to talk to Marcus like that. Never.” She was on the brink of tears, and it was my fault.
“I know.”
She paused before shaking her head.
“I don’t want you to come ba—”
“I know.” I shut my eyes. I couldn’t bear to hear it. Not yet. Maybe tomorrow. I could handle it better tomorrow.
But not right now.
I didn’t want to hear her kick me off her property and out of her life—out of their lives.
I’d respect her wishes, but there was something about her saying it that felt so unbearable, I wasn’t sure I’d be able to stay standing.
The pit at the bottom of my stomach was so delicate, I knew her words would punch a hole in my chest. It was better to feel empty than like I was dying all over again.
And with all my good intentions, I’d still failed. I’d still lost the girl. The family.
If she told me to, I would. I would go to the barn, pack up my shit, and start walking. Back to the road, back to riding the rails. Back to going from farm to farm as needed.
“I’m just gonna clean my things and go. You won’t…” I swallowed, unable to form the words. The promise that my putrid shadow would never darken her door again.
“Marcus didn’t deserve that,” she said, her voice deflated. “He didn’t—”
Tears streamed down her face. They did on mine, too. “I know.”
I fell into a seat, the legs scraping as it settled with my weight, and I dropped my elbows on my knees.
I added, “You don’t deserve it, either.”
She didn’t deserve my shit.
I clenched my hands into fists so I wouldn’t lunge for her, take her in my arms, and kiss her face until her tears stopped staining her skin.
Until I could swallow her bitterness as my own and protect her the way I’d failed to when I saw her hanging over the raging fucking river.
“You don’t deserve for him to say those things to you, and you don’t deserve to be hurt by me, either. ”
She didn’t deserve what had happened to her. What was happening to her now.
She stared at me, those glassy, phoenix eyes igniting something in me that I’d rather disappear instead.
She was so pretty that it hurt. Her beautiful existence was a stab to my chest. Me, with my mistakes from years ago that would never be erased, we would never do enough to earn a place in this house, by her side.
“I’m sorry, Melody.”
Her brows scrunched in confusion, like no one had ever willingly apologized to her before. No one probably had.
“I’ll pack up my things and get out of your hair.” But I wouldn’t promise to stay away.
Not until I had to. Not yet.
She just said, “Okay.”
She sounded as defeated as I did.
I hated that her tears weren’t wiped away. They stained her cheeks like two rivers joining under her chin before falling and darkening her jeans.
“Okay,” I echoed.
This was it. I had to get up, put on the boots I’d left by her front door, and clean all evidence of my existence. Load up my truck and leave.
One step at a time. I could do it.
“Alright, then,” I mumbled.
“Alright,” she whispered back.
She clenched her hands together, wringing her fingers until her knuckles turned white. My instinct was to reach out and twine her fingers with mine, forbidding her from hurting herself, but I knew it wasn’t my place. That she wasn’t mine.
“Have a good day.” I pushed myself up to a stand, feeling more pain and stiffness in my body than my old bones merited.
“I’ll pay you back for all the work you’ve done.”
Of all the things she could have said, of all the ways she could have dismissed me, this hurt the worst. Like this was a transaction. A thing to be paid back. Something purchased. Not something given because I cared.
It was the most effective way to reject me, though. A well-aimed sabot round to the chest, whether it was intentional or not.
“No need,” I told her, getting the message loud and fucking clear.
I turned, stopping dead in my tracks when a figure popped out from behind the door.
“You said we were going to start on the siding tomorrow.” Marcus leaned into the doorjamb, fingers playing with the strike plate.
“I don’t have practice this weekend,” he added. “You said that we could work on it, and that you’d let me help after school.
“Son…” I couldn’t finish.
Because damn it, I never thought I wanted kids, but he was a pretty good one, even if I was too hard on him.
They said you shouldn’t date a single mom unless you were ready to take on the kids, too. Breaking up with them would be just as hard as breaking up with her. Melody wasn’t a mother in the full sense of the word, but in many ways, she was.
I cleared my throat, and in the surest voice I could muster, I started, “Son, I don’t—”
“You promised,” he interrupted me.
I had. If I could have latched onto that as an excuse to stay, as flimsy as it was, I would have. But I knew better.
This was a whole life. A family. A unit. I was on the outside. I belonged outside. In the barn. Away from all of this.
“We’re having pizza. Venezia’s.” His voice turned to whining, and my eyes watered.
“You all enjoy it,” I said through the lump in my throat. I’d ordered from there half the nights Melody had been in the hospital. It was just as good fresh as it was reheated. “I know that’s your favorite, kid. Have a good one.”
“But we always have too much,” he said, his voice high.
God, I was a fucking asshole. I wiped my face with my hands, trying to push away the tears that wanted to break through.
I had to hold it together. I could blubber like a bitch when I was a mile down the road.
“He’s right.” Melody’s voice came through like a gun shot, and I lifted my head, eyes finding her hazel ones like an idiot flower turning to the sun. “We always get too much. You should stay if you want.”
I didn’t say it, but one last meal might literally kill me.
This was killing me.
“You all enjoy,” I croaked as I ran to the door and grabbed my shoes. I didn’t even put them on. In just my socks, I went to my truck and started the engine, peeling out of there like my life depended on it.