Page 69 of Wild Child
"You don't?"
The question came out of me in a dying whisper. It slipped free with a quick stab in the heart as it passed. Of course, he didn't trust me. Why should that surprise me? It did surprise me—more than I would have ever admitted.
He ran a hand through his hair and turned away. I opened my mouth to say something else, but clamped it shut again. Wasn't his answer enough? I closed my burning eyes and stumbled a few steps away.
This wasn't our first disagreement. We had them all the time in high school. Some of them days long because neither of us would back down. One had lasted a week. We didn't speak to each other at all.
I'd never had this awful feeling in the pit of my stomach. Not then. BecausethenI knew that if he was angry at me, it would be fine. Dev always came back. Emotions were just emotions. Back then, boxes didn’t exist and Mama didn’t whisper to me from the depths of the grave. Now, I knew differently.
Men leave.
Love dies.
You take care of yourself.
They always leave,Mama whispered now and I didn't have the energy to shove her into the back of my mind where she belonged.
Emotions weren't just emotions. They were tidal pools deep enough to drown in. They were miasmas. Places to lose yourself. Things that swept you away on a current you never asked for. Emotions were better left boxed up because left to their own accord, they wreaked havoc.
My nostrils flared in a poor attempt to control the boxes. On their own, they started to unpack, spilling frustration, annoyance, fear, and panic. The chaos flooded my mind all at once and occupied most of my mental thoughts. Slowly, one at a time, I reigned them back in. Tucked them into their rightful places until I had a better grip on . . . everything.
Go back,I told them.Not now. Not. Now.
Minutes passed while I got myself back under control. Eventually, I could judge my decision to sleep first through a different lens. Was it wrong to suggest we stay here? No, that plan was best. We'd only lose ourselves even more at night and risk another injury.
Devin had wandered close to the creek to drink and brood and stare at the rocks as if they held all the answers in their gray depths. Thick trees and bracken surrounded us until I spotted a place where I could clear out a hollow beneath quakies and have a spot to hide. Whether I hid from Steve, Kimball, or Devin, I didn't know anymore. Regardless, tonight would be a cold night. The chill already brought goosebumps to my arms. I felt so tired, however, that the cold may not matter.
With trembling, weary hands, I cleared out a place to lay down beneath a grove of saplings. Thick bushes cluttered their roots with foliage that created a little canopy. Two trunks rested against my back and provided a morsel of safety. Something firm behind me and close overhead felt like a wild cocoon, though still not as solid as Devin's arms.
Devin didn't return to the spot where we'd stopped or follow me. He just stood near the stream like an immobile statue. Had I pushed him back into an episode? I almost crawled out of my wooded nook, but I stopped. Not yet. He needed time.
We both needed time.
I lay on my side and watched his silhouette through the leaves. A thick darkness fell, bringing the quiet hum of nightlife. Singing bugs. Rustling wings. The distant tinkle of the brook. One muscle at a time, my body began to relax. Memories of our other fights passed through my mind. They were so long ago, the origins of the fights eluded me. None of them stuck in my head, which meant none of them mattered.
Except for one thing.
Devin had always initiated the apology. Even when I tried to get there first, somehow he beat me to the punch. After a disagreement over something when we were sixteen, he showed up with three pink roses just as I left to apologize at his house. He'd bummed a ride from a friend and beat me to it.
Do you trust me?I had asked.
I want to.
Sleep would be a long time coming.
18
Devin
How had I messed things up already?
The moment I snapped at her, I regretted it. The flare of fire in her eyes told me I'd crossed a line. Certainly not my first time making her angry, but when I'd done so before, it hadn't been this scary. High school Ellie had a temper, to be sure. But high school Ellie hadn't yet proven just how stubborn she could be.
Three-years-without-talking-stubborn carried a lot of weight behind it.
The thought that I may have just destroyed everything I came back to accomplish barreled through my mind. Ellie had cut me off before. She'd turned her back to me at prom and never once looked back. She didn't show up to my farewell dinner and managed to be out of town when I made it home.
Maybe I shouldn't have been so vague when I responded to the question of whether I trusted her or not. I could have reassured her that I did, that things were fine. I dismissed that thought as soon as it came. No, we both needed and deserved the truth. It had to be said. How could I expect her to trust me if I didn't tell the absolute truth anyway?
