Page 50 of Bottle Rocket
The leaves above Leo rustled as two bluebirds seemed to fight for territory. He leaned back and watched the show. “I’ve made a mess of a sticky situation, so about the same as usual.”
Even though he and Mal weren’t together, they were there for each other. He trusted Mal’s opinion.
“What happened?”
“Ran into an old love, and I—”
“An old love?” Mal said, delight in his voice. Leo closed his eyes. “As far as I know, the only loves you’ve ever had are me—thank you—and that girl from your hometown.”
“Ding, ding, ding.”
“What’s her name again?”
“Rosie.”
“Ah yes. Rosie. So sweet. You ran into Rosie andwhat?”
“And I still love her, Mal. She’s wonderful, and it feels right. This relationship is worth fighting for.”
They both let the words hang there, the unspoken bits spreading out between them like spilled paint. They’d broken up because Leo hadn’t been willing to fight for them, among a million other reasons.
“What’s the problem, then?” Mal asked.
Leo sighed. “I’m scared.”
“Oh, hon.”
Tears pricked the back of Leo’s eyes. When Mal used that tone on him, it hit him in the breadbasket.
“I don’t feel pulled in a million different directions with her. The world’s not clawing at me so hard. I’m clear-headed and inspired. I think I might like to slow down if I got to slow down with her.” A beat of silence followed his words. “What?”
Mal hummed. “I hope you’re not saying you’re ready to plant your flag somewhere permanently. I love you, Whitt, but that isn’t you. The impulse to run would eventually rip you apart. You need a partner who can run with you.”
“No, see, I have this plan. A compromise. I could—”
“Now you want to compromise?” Mal said, his voice incredulous. Memories of a hundred small spats rushed to the surface. “Ignore me.”
“No. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to hurt you.”
“I know.” Mal sounded world-weary and exhausted. “I’m not the only one who got hurt. Your heart was broken. My heart was broken. It sucked, but I wasn’t alone at the end, and you were. I’ll regret that until the day I die. Love isn’t supposed to burn hot like a firecracker and explode in your face. We loved each other, but it wasn’t enough. We got burned. I don’t want you to get burned again, but I also hate for you to be alone.”
Leo rubbed a hand over the back of his neck. He was sweating. “I don’t want my needs to hurt anyone else. I can’t stand still for too long. Can’t stay in one place without feeling caged. Rosie needs security and stability. That was why we broke up initially, but we’re older.”
“You are. How long has it been? Twelve, thirteen years?”
“Yeah.”
“The difference a decade and some change can make,” Mal said.
Career changes and marriages and relationships and death. So much had happened.
“I believe … I have to believe that Rosie and I finding each other again is a sign. I’ve been painting her in my head for thirteen years, Mal. Maybe all my searching has been to find a way back to her, and frankly, I don’t think we need to be in each other’s pockets constantly for our relationship to work. I think it might be better if we’re not, even.” He thought back to Rosie saying she wanted security, independence, and respect. She wanted those things of her own volition.
Now that he was speaking his longing out loud, he felt hope take wing in his chest. This could work.
The door of the Airstream opened and Rosie popped her head out. She had showered. Her hair was wet, and Leo spied a bare shoulder.
“Mal, I gotta go. Rosie just woke up.”
