Page 49 of Wild and Unruly
Bonnie looks between the two. “Let’s stay inside. I don’t need more mosquito bites.” She chuckles, and I nod.
Note to self: Get mosquito repellent.
We settle in, each with our plates filled with food, mine with about twice as much, and for a few moments, we eat in comfortable silence. Bonnie clearly has something on her mind, and if I had to bet, I would say it has to do with her brother. “You all right?”
Bonnie looks up, blinking back into the moment, and I realize that she was zoned out. “Sorry, my mind is just elsewhere.” She shakes her head. “I’m here, I promise.”
“That’s all right. You wanna talk about it?”
“You don’t want to talk about my family.” She laughs lightly, taking a bite of food and tucking a piece of hair behind her ear.
I shrug and give her a serious look. “Bo, if it’s something bothering you, I want to talk about it. This isn’t just a fling for me. I thought I just established that.” I gesture to the kitchen, referencing the conversation we just had.
“I know, it just,” she sighs, wetting her lips. “It always brings down the mood.”
I nod my head, focusing on my food or pretending to when really all of my attention is on her. “I get that. But I’m here for you to talk to. I guess you could call me a non-biased listener.” Sort of non-biased. I’m pretty sure no matter what happens, I would side with Bonnie.
“Well, he’s lost his job, you know.” I nod and wait patiently. “Ever since that, I guess he’s gotten even more moody, lashing out at Mom more.” Her hands pause over her food, and I let her gather her thoughts. “I hate that I’m not there, but at the same time, he’s not listening. He doesn’t want help.”
“That’s hard,” I say, taking a sip of my water. “Does he want to get back to horses?”
She shakes her head. “Not really. I mean, he says he doesn’t. He blames horses, which I understand.” I nod, agreeing. “But he was obsessed. I mean, worse than me. He would be up with the sun to ride his horse. In high school, he’d ride before school and be at the barn after to work for—” She pauses, clearing her throat. “Anyway, he was addicted to it. Then, it was yanked away from him without a thought. Not only that, but he’s also now unable to move freely and has to live in a wheelchair.”
“I can’t imagine what you all have been through,” I start, reaching over and taking her hand. “It’s been a huge adjustment, a huge life change.”
She shakes her head, accepting my hand but shrugging. “It’s been years. We should be adjusted by now.”
“Who says there’s a set timeline on that kind of thing? Especially if your brother is not moving forward, holding you and your mom back.”
“I wouldn’t say ‘holding us back,’” she starts, and I keep my mouth shut. It’s hard to put to words how I’m feeling, but the fact that she’s still dealing with his injury, that she was still carrying this burden on her shoulders, tells me that it was doing exactly that.
“It’s just been something we’ve been dealing with, something that changed everything.” Her eyes move from mine, and she shakes her head. “My parents separated soon after. My dad was against us looking into the accident deeper, saying it was a fluke and not worth looking at. He left, though, took off with someone half his age, and moved to Florida.”
“Florida deserves him.”
She chuckles but continues. “Mom threw herself back intochurch, something she missed out a lot on because my dad wasn’t very religious. And Mason was in physical therapy, trying to make the best of everything. At first, he was good. He was hopeful and positive. But then the doctors said things like ‘never walk again,’ and all that hope left him. He and his longtime girlfriend broke up because he was being so bitter. He just couldn’t move past it.”
Bonnie shakes her head, her eyes distant in memory. “I don’t blame her. Daphne deserved better. He was always picking fights with her and making her life miserable. He didn’t deserve to have her around for all his temper tantrums.” Bonnie sighs, settling against her chair, her hand still in mine. “After Daph left, his mood spiraled worse. He and Mom found an accessible apartment and moved in. He finally got off his ass and got a job, only to help Mom afford bills.”
“And what about you?” I ask, squeezing her fingers.
“What about me?”
I shake my head. “I mean, what did you do? You gave up your dream, stopped showing, and now you’re an incredible writer.”
“I don’t know about incredible.”
“I do. I’ve read your work. You have talent.”
Her gaze softens, and her hand squeezes mine tenderly. “Well, I was already in school when the accident happened, so I just kept going. I got a degree in creative writing and journalism, which didn’t prepare me at all for a real job, but I had it anyway. Then I got a few odd jobs before landing the one at the magazine.” She shrugs. “The rest is history.”
I stare at her in shock and amazement. “You don’t give yourself enough credit. You’ve pulled yourself out of the trenchesand made a great name for yourself, and you just make it sound like you bag groceries.”
“Bagging groceries is an honorable job,” she says, giving a little wiggle of her eyebrow.
“Don’t belittle what you’ve done, Bo. You’re fucking amazing.”
“I think you just want in my pants,” she blurts, a blush following her cute comment.
