Page 90 of Perfect Assumption
I quickly hurl the cloths to the side and ease my body over hers, letting her know sometimes words aren’t needed. When it comes to someone our hearts have linked to, our bodies can talk for us.
And that trust is something beautiful.
* * *
My hand smoothsup and down her back when I blurt out, “I’ve made mistakes in my life, too many to name.”
“Like what?” Angie trails her fingers over my chest, dragging her fingers through the sweat-dampened curls.
Capturing them, I roll to my back, pulling her along with me. Staring sightlessly up at the ceiling, I begin to admit my shame. “The night of my birthday, when my parents died? I should have been with them.”
“Obviously, you weren’t.”
“No. I managed to convince my mom we should hold off the family celebration until Carrie could join us. I was acting so noble, Angie.” I snort, but there’s no humor in the sound. “Of course, my mom saw right through me. I ran from the room when I was given the okay to escape the family dinner—something we’d done for as long as I could remember.”
“I’ve heard that’s what mothers are supposed to do.” There’s a note of wistfulness in her voice I can’t overlook.
I lift her hand to my lips and press a kiss against the back. “Sometimes I forget you don’t have a point of reference for parents.”
“Just because my parents were horrid doesn’t mean I didn’t have support or love, Ward. Quite the opposite, in fact. And since we’ve…” A blush edges her cheeks.
“We’ve, what?” I tease because I love watching Angie rise to the bait. For so many years, she’s stifled her personality, and I never want her to do that with me.
She ignores my blatant attempt to bait her. Voice thoughtful, she contemplates aloud, “I built a wall around myself to keep the fear away, but instead I kept the love out. The world isn’t just made up of just monsters, but I’ve been too fearful to let them close enough to discern the difference.”
I reward her bravery by wrapping her tightly in my arms for long moments, wishing I had a fifth of her courage.
It isn’t long before Angie brings us back around to what we were discussing. “What did you do the night your parents died? You said you all were supposed to go out? Where was Carys?”
Her fingers on my skin offer both the strength to go on and the tenderness I’ve refuted from anyone when this topic has arisen. “I went to a party with the guys who were also home from break.”
Angie’s hand stills as does my breath.Here it comes, I think despondently. The condemnation. “And you said your mom knew you were going out?”
“Sure. She teased me about it before I left. Reminded me I was seventeen, not twenty-one, when she asked me if there was going to be alcohol there. God, I miss the way they used to tease us.” My teeth clench at the memory of my mother scolding me while trying not to laugh up into my face.
If she wasn’t lying partially on my body, I’m certain I’d have fallen off the bed when Angie murmurs, “That’s another thing we have in common, in an odd, screwy kind of way. I don’t think my parents ever teased me, or if they did it was so long ago I can’t recall it.” Then her voice brightens. “But it sounds to me like they loved you the way my grandparents loved me—unconditionally.”
“Yes, they did. Did your grandparents always greet you with a hug?”
Her head lifts so watery blue eyes meet mine. “Absolutely.”
“Offer words of wisdom you didn’t appreciate—then?”
“I wish I had recordings so I could play them back.”
And the anguish I’ve been carrying around for me flows out of me like a dam bursting. “I was a seventeen-year-old shit who wanted to go to a party, Angie. I didn’t care my older sister was stuck working for her boss—my godfather. I used it as an excuse to get out of a family night. And what did I get instead?” I cover my eyes with my arm. “Carrie had no idea where I was; neither did the police. Everyone was so damn grateful I was alive. Why? What was it about me and my life that made it so much more important than theirs?” My arm flings out to the side and slams against the mattress in frustration and sadness.
She whispers, “That’s not how life works, Ward. Neither the good nor the horrible things that happen to us are dealt out so cavalierly.”
“How can you believe that?” My eyes fly open to meet hers, incredulous that she of all people can say something like that.
Her lips curve in the kind of knowing smile sent by gods. It changes the meaning of my life every time I’m the recipient of it. “Because life can’t be decided by a single decision of right or wrong. There has to be things like balance and redemption, or who would try to live after a single moment of awfulness? I have to believe that because why did Sula keep me going after that night? Why did my grandparents? Look at the way my life has changed. Isn’t that example enough of how life can be redeemed? I guess what I’m trying to say is an outsider would look at your life, maybe even mine, and assume it’s perfect when there’s really no such thing.”
I thread my fingers through hers resting against my heart and squeeze. Angie’s voice is husky with tears. “I have to believe that. Otherwise, I’d spend all my time wondering who bestowed the richness of you into my life and what kind of debt I’m going to owe and how awful it will be to pay.”
My free arm bands around her, hauling her further up my body so I can bury my face into the base of her throat. For long moments we hold on to one another as the storm outside rages on, adding a background for our mingled tears.
Thirty-Five
