Chapter 14 – Davis
CHAPTER FOURTEEN
DAVIS
“You’re certainly chipper lately,” Davis said while her grandmother flitted around the kitchen, whistling while she worked like Snow White’s lesser known eighth dwarf: Unhingedsy. “What gives?”
Chopping carrots with a distant smile, and what Davis might have thought was a blush if her grandma was the type of woman to succumb to such an undignified thing, she said, “I’m no more or less chipper than normal.”
“ Sure ,” Davis said, drawing the word out while she chopped celery to help prep for dinner. “Whatever you say.”
Pointing the tip of her knife Davis’s way, her grandma said, “What about you? You’re chipper too. At least compared to how sad you’ve…” She turned back to her carrots, letting the obvious remain unstated. “You just seem happier. Has something changed?”
“Not really,” Davis said. Only it wasn’t necessarily true. Talking to her mom earlier had helped. A lot. And for the first time in weeks, months, really, she felt a little hopeful. Like maybe she could talk to Kev. Like she wouldn’t be losing a part of herself by letting him back into her life. Like maybe they could try. Maybe there was something still there.
“Oh my god,” she said, wheeling on her grandma. “You’re whistling again ! What is going on?”
Wandering into the kitchen, Madigan said, “Couldn’t have anything to do with Clay’s visit, could it?”
“Clay’s coming back?” Davis asked, eyes wide. “When?”
“He was already here. You missed him,” her grandma said, adding “But I didn’t” under her breath.
“I missed him?” Davis turned to Madigan.
“He was here a few days ago,” Madigan said.
“He was? Why did he…” The stoic, almost tender expression Madigan gave her answered her question before she finished asking it. He’d come for Kev. Probably after she’d told him…everything. “Oh,” she said, because what else was there to say?
Glancing down at the small package he held in his hands, Madigan asked, “Can we talk for a minute? In private?” He deferred to her grandma. “Unless you still need her, Maude Alice.”
Waving him off, still floating in a cloud of post-Clay visit bliss, her grandma said, “She’s all yours.”
Davis always appreciated the way Madigan filled a room. And it wasn’t just that he was big. His presence was big. Even now, while he sat on the edge of her bed, picking up his package and staring at it, toying nervously with the bit of string that tied it together while she sat at her desk and waited, his presence was imposing. “How are you, Davis?”
“You told Mom I was thinking of leaving.” She didn’t ask it like a question. Didn’t necessarily state it like an accusation either. It was somewhere in between.
He looked up, regret suspended in his bright blue eyes. “I wasn’t going to. But she could tell I was sitting on a secret the second I walked into the lodge that night. I didn’t want to lie to her.”
“And Kev told you.”
“He was upset.” He huffed a wry laugh. “He was very upset.”
“Is that why Clay was here?”
“Yes,” he said, running his knuckles through his beard. “I felt like I needed to call in the big guns to keep Kev on track, show him some support. He didn’t really have a lot of that, of support, when he was…” He let the thought fade out, always careful not to share too much about the Little Timber men. Even though she would have given him just about anything to bend that rule a little right now. To give her a glimpse into Kev’s life. Into the past they’d never really talked about. “But I think it helped,” he said. “I hope it did, anyway.”
“Me too,” she said, meaning it. Ever since talking with her mom, some of the bolts in the metal plate she’d welded over her heart had worked themselves free. Not enough to remove it. But it was looser, letting some light in. “I never wanted to upset him. Through all of this, I never wanted to hurt him.”
Madigan met her stare, his brow creased. “Of course you didn’t, Davis. Nobody would think that.”
“It’s just, sometimes I get scared,” she admitted, because apparently today was the day when all her deepest fears decided to pop up and tumble out of her. “I get scared that something I’ll say or do will make him leave again. Make him use again.” And it will be all my fault again.
“I understand,” Madigan said calmly. “It’s actually a very common fear, Davis. It’s a fear I hear from a lot of family members and loved ones. It’s a fear I have too sometimes. But we—addicts—are exceptionally good at finding reasons to use all by ourselves. No assistance required, believe me.”
She let herself laugh at that.
“Look,” he said, and she thought here we go. “I know more than most that there are no guarantees in life. Especially not with addicts. But I really think, I really believe , that Kev is committed this time. He’s doing the work. He’s digging deep. He’s learning about himself. He’s opening up.”
“That’s good,” she said, because it was. She was happy for him. Proud of him in ways she’d probably never tell anyone. Mad at him for waiting until now, for only figuring his shit out now. But she’d never tell anyone that either.
Madigan took a deep, long, fortifying breath, then said, “I’m telling you this because if I didn’t believe that he was committed, if I didn’t believe he was doing the work…” He held up the package. “I wouldn’t have agreed to bring you this.”
Her mouth suddenly so dry it was difficult to speak, she asked, “What is that?”
“I don’t know, exactly. But it’s something very important to Kev,” he said. “After we got back from the barn this afternoon, he practically sprinted to his cabin, coming out with this and asking me to bring it to you. He said he should have given it to you a long time ago. He said he doesn’t want to make you feel uncomfortable, though. And that if you don’t want it, that I should just bring it back to him. But he said he ‘wants you to know.’”
“To know?” Davis repeated, waging an internal war between jumping up to snatch the package from Madigan’s hands right now and asking him to leave it on the bed so she could stare at it for the next ten hours. Neither of which, she realized, included not giving it to her. “To know what?”
“He didn’t say.” Placing the package back in his lap, his expression wavering, confidence slipping, Madigan said, “Maybe I should let you think about this for a minute. Maybe I should go and?—”
“No.” She held out her hand. “I’ll take it.”
After a moment’s hesitation, he passed her the package. “Thank you, Davis. Thank you for… Well, just thank you.” His mission accomplished, he stood from the bed and made his way to her door. Turning back, he said, “It’s going to be different around here without you, a little less bright. But I’m happy for you. Your mom is too.”
She would have smiled, said thank you, told him she’d miss him. But the package in her hands consumed her thoughts, made everything else in the entire world irrelevant. Because now that she could see and feel and touch what Kev wanted her to have, what he wanted her to know , emotion swelled so rapidly inside her she wasn’t sure she’d be able to speak even if she tried.
Wrapped inside white tissue paper and held together with a length of baling twine tied into a pretty little bow were letters. Lots of letters. He’d written her name across the one on top with instructions she could just make out through the tissue paper:
Please read this first.
When she looked up at Madigan again, the letters held loosely in her hands, tears already standing in her eyes, he said, “Murphy’s out here.” He angled his head toward the hallway. “Do you want him?”
“Yes,” she said, her voice already cracking around the edges. “Kev’s not the only one who needs the big guns called in for support. Come on, Murph.”
Hearing his name, Murphy trotted in through the open door, leaped onto her bed, turned around twice, and flopped down with a deep, satisfied grumble.
“I’m gonna go check on the guys.” Madigan wrapped his hand around the doorknob. “See you at dinner?”
“I’ll be there,” she said distantly, not sure if it was true. Not sure where she’d be if the letters in her hands were what she thought they were.
Once her door snicked closed, she crawled onto her bed, crossed her legs, rubbed Murphy’s belly when his thigh popped up, then turned her attention back to the letters. Carefully pulling the twine bow free, she unfolded the tissue paper and picked up the first letter from the pile. Opening the envelope and sliding the piece of paper free, she smiled at his handwriting. It was so much like him, the before him. Maybe the now him too. A little chaotic, slanting in some places, upright in others. Like someone who’d just sprinted to his cabin and grabbed a pen and a piece of paper. Someone who’d tried to make the words as legible as possible even though he was rushing, hurrying to get them all out.
Davis,
I know you’re leaving. I’ll probably spend the rest of my life hoping I wasn’t the reason why, even though I’m pretty sure I am. At least part of it. But today was a strange day. This thing happened. It was eye-opening and it made me finally realize what I’d done to you. Something worse than leaving. Something worse than doing drugs again. Something worse than both. I shut you out. I made you feel alone. I was struggling, fading. I know you felt it. I know you were doing everything you could to keep me from slipping away. But you couldn’t get to me because I wouldn’t let you. You couldn’t get to me because I’d built a wall between us.
I know I only have a few more weeks left with you. I know that may be all I get. If that’s what happens, I’ll find a way to be okay with it. But I’m not going to shut you out anymore. The walls are coming down. I should have sent these when I wrote them. I’m sending them now. I know you don’t owe me anything, but I hope you’ll read them. I understand if you won’t. But I hope you will.
Kev
She stared at the letter in her hands, at the words she’d never dared to hope she’d hear from him. Seeing them now cored her out, somehow filling her up at the same time.
Setting down his first letter, she picked up the next. Her name was scrawled across the front. Nothing else. Just her name. She opened the envelope.
The letter was short and devastating.
How did this happen? How did I end up here? I don’t know. I don’t fucking know.
She picked up the next letter, watching it tremble between her fingers. The envelope was the same, only her name.
Davis,
It’s weird writing a letter to someone when you know they’ll never read it, but I don’t have anyone else to talk to. Everyone here is really nice, but they keep asking questions I can’t answer. I’ve never felt so lost. I’ve never been so scared. I couldn’t sleep last night. I have a little window in my room that looks out over the trees. I spent the night staring at the moon, wishing I had a picture of you to stare at instead. I’m so tired. I wish I could fucking sleep.
Kev
A tear rolled down her nose, dropping onto the next envelope as she opened the third letter.
Davis,
I met my counselor today. His name is Rick. I hope he can help me. I didn’t sleep again last night. Every time I closed my eyes, I jolted awake again, my heart racing, my stomach so tied up in knots I thought I was going to be sick. I haven’t been able to eat much. Rick said that’s the first thing we need to work on. Eating and sleeping. Seems simple enough. Also seems impossible. I swear I saw your face in the moon last night. Or maybe I’m just losing my mind.
Kev
She read his words over and over until the sting of them faded. Until the images of him waking up with his heart racing, his stomach burning, just like hers had, faded enough to let her move on.
When she read the next few letters, when she saw the way he’d struggled, how alone he’d felt, how like her he’d felt, she clutched at each piece of paper like if she just tried hard enough, she could reach through the fibers to find him in that place. She could hold him, rock him in her arms until he finally closed his eyes.
He still wasn’t sleeping much. He was eating even less. But by the seventh letter, something changed.
Davis,
Have you ever sunk to the bottom of a pool and stayed down there so long you started to wonder if you’d make it back to the surface in time? And then when you did, and you took that huge first breath, it was like life coming back to you? Like relief and gratitude filling your lungs? I feel a little like I took that breath today.
I finally slept last night. For sixteen hours. They usually don’t let you oversleep here, but I guess they knew I needed it. I’m actually hungry too. Rick started me on an antidepressant a few days ago. He said it’s too early for it to be working, but maybe he’s wrong, because I feel clearer today. I’m glad I’m here. I still don’t know how things fell apart so fast. I don’t know why I decided to sink to the bottom. But I’m in the right place. I’m bobbing above the surface again.
I miss you,
Kev
She ran her fingertip over those last few words.
I miss you. I miss you. I miss you.
How many notes in her box said the same thing? How many times had she written them or thought them while wondering if he missed her too?
She read the next letter. And the next. And the next. Some were rambling. Some only a few sentences long. Each one gave her a glimpse into his world in rehab. His group sessions. His nature walks. His meditation and yoga and journaling. How much he hated journaling, how it reminded him of going to the dentist.
You know it’s probably good for you, but you also know it’s going to suck.
Which made her laugh.
He told her about his individual counseling with Rick, where they were working on things like honesty and openness and trust. Every day there was some new revelation, some new goal he was trying to reach. She’d never worked half as hard on herself as Kev was working on himself in these letters.
About halfway through the pile, he started writing her full name and address on the envelopes. By the last few, he’d even put a stamp on them. Somehow, she’d been holding herself more or less together. It was the stamp that finally broke her. She wasn’t sure why, but that’s when the sobs came, the ugly crying that shook her entire body until Murphy put his head in her lap and stared up at her with his big brown eyes, whimpering softly.
Kev had almost sent these letters. So close to it, he’d paid for the postage. And she understood why he didn’t. Because at that time, she wasn’t sure if she would have opened them, let alone read them. Even though she’d checked her mailbox every day, she’d been so hurt and angry she might have thrown any letters he’d sent her away. She might have even done something unforgiveable like burned them. And then she would have missed so much. She would have missed his thoughtful, funny, brutally real words. She would have missed this.
Dear Davis,
Madigan is coming to get me tomorrow. He’s bringing me home. Knowing him, he’s already made sure you’re okay with me coming back to Bluebird. If that’s true, all I can say is thank you. I wouldn’t have blamed you for saying no. But you’ll never know what it means to me that you said yes.
I’m nervous about leaving this place and going back to the real world. But I can’t wait to see you. Just to see your face again, Davis. You have no idea how much I miss your face. I’m terrified too, though. Because once I see you, then I’ll know what you think of me. I’ll know the answer to all the questions I’ve been asking myself since I got here. Questions like how are you feeling? Are you angry? Are you hurting? Are you sad? Happy? Thriving? Do you hate me? Have you missed me? Do you still love me? Do you? Because I still love you. Maybe I shouldn’t say that, but it’s true. I have never stopped loving you. I’m not sure if I ever will. I know that may be hard to believe after what I did to you. And I understand if you hate me. I understand if you never want to talk to me again. I’ll understand if you take one look at me when I get back and turn around. It will crush me, but I’ll understand.
I haven’t sent any of these letters to you. I probably won’t send this one either. But I can’t tell you how much you’ve helped me in here. Just being able to write to you. To feel like I’m talking to you again. Just to remember your smile and your laugh and what it felt like being with you, just hanging out. Just talking. Nobody will ever understand how amazing just talking to Davis Thompson is. God, I miss it.
It’s important in recovery to do something called making amends. I need to make amends with you. I wanted to do it in person, and I hope I’ll be able to. But I also realize that you might not want to hear what I have to say.
Considering that the definition of making amends is to correct a mistake a person has made, I know that what I did to you might be too much to ever make amends for. It’s definitely not something I can do in one letter. Or even in one day. Making amends for what I did to you will take time. It will take effort. It will take work. So I thought I’d at least try to apologize in this letter.
I’ve thought about it a lot, how to apologize to you. I could tell you that I’ve never been sorrier for anything in my life than I am for the way I hurt you. For lying to you. For scaring you. For pulling away. For leaving. For using drugs again. And I am. I am so fucking sorry. I wish I could go back in time. I wish I never would have gotten into that car. I wish I’d never picked up that needle. But I did. And I have to own it. So even though I am sorry, my apology to you is going to be a lot more than that. My apology to you is my commitment to working harder, getting better, being better. My apology to you is not expecting forgiveness until I’ve earned it. My apology to you is realizing that I may never earn it and being okay with it.
I know it’s not enough. Not even close. But right now, it’s everything I have.
I love you. Forever.
Kev
Setting the letter down on top of the scattered pile of his words, his love, his heartbreaking honesty, she gave in, letting herself cry, letting herself weep for him, and for her. For them. For what they’d been. For whatever they were now. For whatever they could be.
For the first time in months, she knew exactly what she needed to do.
Climbing off her bed, she opened her closet door. Then, with tears streaming down her cheeks and Murphy galloping hot on her heels, she ran from her room, from the lodge, racing down the pine-covered path toward the cabins. She had to see him. She had to show him. She had to make sure that he knew too.
Charging up his steps while Murphy hung back to sniff and mark all the trees he’d already sniffed and marked hundreds of times, Davis pounded on his door while her heart pounded on her ribs.
The door swung open, and with wide eyes, he said, “Davis?”
“Jesus Christ,” she panted, gaping at his bare chest, at the soft trail of golden hair disappearing beneath a towel wrapped so low around his waist it clung to those V-shaped muscles like it had been painted on him. “Are you ever not shirtless?”
“What?” He looked down, his damp curls brushing against his shoulders. “Oh, sorry. I just got back from doing bathroom duty, and I had to take a shower before dinner.”
“You got bathroom duty?” she asked. “Why? What did you do?”
“I told Madigan to fuck off, more or less.”
Her eyes bulged. “You what ?”
“Davis.” He took a step toward her, scanning her face while the clean, soapy scent of his recently showered body infiltrated her senses. “Have you been crying?”
“Yes, I’ve been crying,” she answered quickly. Because of course she’d been crying. Because only someone without a heart would have gotten through his words with dry eyes. “I got your letters.”
“Did you”—he reached up to squeeze the back of his neck—“read them?”
Working extremely hard to not look down at what his upward reach had done to the precise location of his towel, she replied, “Every single one.”
Somehow, in an effort to not look at his body, she slipped and fell into his eyes, lost, sinking, remembering the way she used to imagine diving into them, floating around in the deep blue pools.
When Murphy barked at them from the bottom of the stairs, quick and high pitched like a slap in the face, she shook herself out, remembering why she’d come, what she was doing there on his porch .
Looking down at the shoebox she’d taken from her closet, she said, “I wrote to you too. While you were gone. They aren’t much.” She held the box more tightly. Maybe this was a mistake. His letters were so beautiful and emotional. What she’d written, what she’d felt. It all seemed so small now. So simple. “I don’t really know what they are.”
“Do you want to come in?” he asked.
“I can’t come in. You’re not allowed to have unauthorized guests in the cabins.” Her chest grew tight when she said, “The rules.”
“The rules,” he repeated softly, a shadow passing over his face, the same shadow passing over her too. Because those two words touched on something. And she wanted to touch whatever it was back about as much as she wanted to touch a needle dipped in poison.
His gaze drifted over her shoulder, the shadow dissolving, replaced by a quirk of his lips. “I could just ask Madigan?”
She turned around just as Madigan walked by with Stanley and Tex.
“Yo, Boss,” Kev called out. “Can Davis come into my cabin?”
Like he’d hit a wall of quicksand, Madigan slowed, then stopped, then froze. Only his mouth moved, swinging open briefly before snapping closed again.
“Boss,” Tex said, elbowing Madigan in the ribs. “Kev asked you a question.”
“Yeah, Boss,” Stanley added with a big shit-eating grin. “Answer the man.”
As Madigan’s gaze shifted between them, his expression somehow relieved and wary at the same time, he held up a hand, his fingers splayed, and said, “Five minutes.”
When Tex said, “Only five? Jeez, Boss. That’s barely enough time to say hello,” Davis couldn’t keep the smile from her face. Kev couldn’t hide his either. It was full and bright and unguarded. Seeing it again was like standing in a ray of sunlight after what had been the darkest and grayest day, week, month .
“Gotta give ’em ten,” Stanley said. “At least.”
Sighing so deeply Davis heard it from the porch, Madigan said, “Fine. Ten minutes. But do not be late for dinner.”
“Thanks, Boss,” Kev said, still smiling at her. “We won’t be late.”
When Madigan shouted, “And put some clothes on!” Davis fought back a legitimate sigh at Kev’s sheepish grin while he shot Madigan a thumbs-up.
Then he stepped back inside his cabin, and she followed him in, her shoebox clutched in her hands and her heart climbing into her throat.