Page 52 of Someone to Hold
“Someone’s in there with her,” I say. “I’m part of the problem. She thinks I’m my father,” I add, because Ihaveto say it out loud, not willing to allow anyone–even a stranger–believe I would elicit that sort of reaction in my mother.
“That happens,” she says kindly. “We’ll take care of her.”
And I’m left standing there alone. Shut out. Turned away again.
I’m too old to be wondering when someone will take care of me. I’m a grown-ass man, but I feel like a kid again. The boy who used to lie awake in bed listening for the sound of breaking dishes or screaming. The one who hated himself for not being able to protect her. For still loving a man who hurt him.
The part of me that hated my father eventually won out. But back then? I just wanted to figure out the magic formula that would keep things calm and my mom, sister, and me safe.
Because the good times were good. My little boy brain thought maybe, just maybe, if I behaved right and said the right things, the good times would stay.
They never did.
The same darkness that consumed my father is inside of me and always has been. I can feel it pulsing through me now, sticky and black as tar. Riding bulls was how I kept it from eating me alive. I took my life in my hands for eight seconds at a time and, somehow, that made me feel like I had control.
My dad hated that he wasn’t good enough to make it on the circuit and I was. Sometimes I wonder if he’d had an outlet like that, would it have been enough? Would we have been safe from his darkness?
And if I’m really done—if I retire for good—where does that leave me? Where does that leave the darkness and what happens when there’s no place to ride it out?
16
MOLLY
Chase hadn’t wantedto talk about the visit with his mom, or much of anything, on our way back to the farm. He played it off like it hadn’t rattled him, but I noticed the muscle tic in his jaw as he kept his eyes fixed on the road.
I didn’t push because I understood he needed space to process what had happened, and I respect him enough to give it to him. I also trust that he’ll share when he’s ready. Or maybe he won’t. Does great sex mean he owes me his emotions? I want to be the person he turns to, even though I have no real claim on him. Isn’t that the story of my life, craving more than someone is willing to give me?
We drove home in silence, and he spent the afternoon in the flower field, met the kids at the bus stop, and then took off on horseback like he was chasing something only he could see.
I hugged both my babies and sent them inside for snacks, then finished up in the greenhouse. Laurel is sitting at the kitchen table when I hobble through the front door, pencil in hand with an all-too-familiar crease between her brows.
“Where’s your brother?” I ask when Luke doesn’t answer my calls up the stairs.
“He went outside,” she replies without looking up. “Mom, why can’t he be normal?”
I whirl around on my crutches so fast I nearly land on my butt again. “Your brother is perfect just the way he is. Why would you say something like that?”
“He’s not perfect.” She rolls her eyes. “He’s…weird.”
“Laurel Marie.”
She lets out an exaggerated sigh. “He’s always trying to hang around me and my friends because he doesn’t have any of his own.”
“You’re his sister. He loves you. You have a twin bond.” I say it with conviction, but my gut twists because I know what it’s like to feel pressure to act a certain way.
I also understand that my kids are very different from one another. Things come easily to Laurel, just like they did for Teddy. She’s confident and social, the kind of kid people naturally gravitate toward. Luke reminds me of myself. Quiet, tender, and unsure of where he fits.
I don’t want Laurel to resent her brother for needing more, and I know with enough time and patience Luke will find his place in the world. I’ve found mine here in Skylark, and I’m holding on to it with both hands. This town has healed something in me, and I want it to work that same magic on my sweet son.
“The other kids need to give him a chance.” I’m not sure if I’m trying to convince her or myself.
“The Chase hype helped,” she says with a shrug.
“The what now?” I blink. “What’s the Chase hype?”
Laurel looks at me like I’m a few Draw 4 cards short of a full Uno deck. “Everybody knows Chase. He’s famous—not like Taylor Swift or Ian Barlowe famous, but he’s a big deal around here. When he came to school and was nice to Luke, it made Luke a big deal for a second.”
“Is that for real?” My mind boggles at the idea that one visit to the classroom from Chase did that much for Luke.
