Page 118 of Our Long Days
Signing up for evening classes at the local college felt impulsive at first. It didn’t change what happened. What it did do was help break the cycle of failure, counteracting a negative with a positive, no matter how small.
The idea of going back to school is terrifying.
Terrifying is good, because it means I’m not shutting down or shutting people out.
I work, feel more in control, and when the clock strikes five, Dex is waiting for me outside the A-frame. He spent most of today in the workshop again, and my heart pitter-patters as he leans casually on the chicken wire fence.
His smile is automatic when he sees me, widening when I hand over the notebook.
“How are you?” he asks softly.
“Better.” Bending over the fence, I scratch Vincent’s bony head. “Listen, I’m sor?—”
A firm grip on my chin stops me.
Gray eyes bore into me. “The next word out of your mouth better not be sorry, Florence. Everything you felt,every emotion, is warranted. It’s me who needs to apologize.” He tilts my head back. “Nothing about you is broken, and I’m sorry if my actions made you think otherwise. If space and time are what you need, I’ll give it to you. I hear you, Trouble, but I’m taking a page out of your book and refusing to let you push me away,” he whispers. “You’re beautiful and I love you.”
Like the night before, he heads toward his cabin, leaving me swaying in the aftermath.
There’s a break in the clouds.
The air is chillierthe next morning. My head is halfway through an old sweater when there’s a knock at the door. Wrestling myself into it, I scramble toward the front of the cabin. When I open it, out of breath and flushed, there’s no one there.
There is an arrangement of Scrabble tiles on the doormat.
Meet at truck. Nine. Dex.
Something between a gasp and a laugh blows past my lips.
Said truck rumbles down the driveway, stealthy as ever.
Though our interactions have been fleeting the last few days, they’ve never felt more meaningful.
To be loved is to be seen. To be heard. To be understood.
Dex’s patience and understanding illuminates, not because he’s shining a light on the path in front of me, but because he’s letting me find my own way.
Waiting for me in the office is the notebook. Before I can see if he’s added to it, there’s a knock on the door leading outside. Either Dex is back, or the goats have learned manners.
I open it to find surprise number two of the morning, and it’s not even ten.
Patrick and Graham stand warily on the other side of the door.
“Fellow offspring,” I greet cautiously, their body language piquing my curiosity. “Dex isn’t here.”
“We’re not here to see him,” Patrick says.
“We’re here to see you!” a muffled voice comes from Graham’s pants.
My gaze lowers. “Is…is Booth in your underwear?”
Nudging his glasses up his nose, Graham sighs and pulls his phone out of his pocket. Showing me the screen, I’m met with the megawatt smile of Booth.
“Hey, baby sis!” He waves. “I like the pink office. Very you.” Behind him is the shiny stainless steel kitchen at his restaurant in New York.
I study the three of them closely. “Is this an ambush? Did Dex send you?”
“Dex doesn’t know we’re here.” Patrick grips the back of his neck. “It’s an apology. A long overdue one.
