Page 50 of Plentywood
“Do you ever get sick and tired of me?” I asked her. “You know. The nonstop, miserable fuck I’ve become?”
She smiled. “Truthfully?” she asked, tilting her head to gauge my willingness to hear some truth. I nodded. “Yeah. Sometimes.”
Her reply wasn’t what I wanted to hear, but conceivably what I needed to hear. “Thanks for that,” I replied to her truth-telling.
“Only because I know what you’re really like, Hunt,” she explained. “I know the real man behind this pain. Don’t get me wrong. You have the right to feel your pain. I can only imagine what that must be like because I’m the sister of Mark, but he wouldn’t like this version of you. Not one single bit.”
“I can’t seem to find that guy anymore,” I admitted. “I try, Jill. I really do try, but it’s almost like that Hunt died two years ago, along with Mark.”
Her face tilted down toward the table, her fingers tapping on the wooden surface. It was apparent she had more to add to my plight. After a minute, she returned her gaze, but she remained silent as she searched my eyes.
“We need to stop this,” she whispered, her eyes welling up. I felt alarmed by her statement, concerned I’d crossed a line or met her limit. “I enable you, Hunt. That is what I do. And in return, you enable me. We thrive in this misery club we’vecreated,” she began. “First my parents. Then my only sibling.” She reached out for my hand. “I cling to you because I’m alone now. Completely alone. And you do the same.”
“What are you saying?”
“I’m saying that we keep each other in this… this…” she looked around the empty diner, her hands rising in the air as she encompassed our surroundings. “We keep each other stuck in our grief. All of this,” she pointed out. “Mom’s business. The memories of Mark helping me out initially after Mom and Dad died. You supporting Mark and me after our folks died. And then…”
“And then Mark,” I finished.
“And then Mark,” she agreed, nodding. “Is Mark all you see when you look at me, Hunt?”
“No. Of course not,” I defended. “You’ve always been like a sister to me. I love you. You know that, right?”
“Sometimes I look at you like my brother. My real brother,” she whispered. “Like you’re going to replace him. Like maybe his death isn’t so bad if you were my real brother.”
“I am yourrealbrother. In my heart, I’m yourrealbrother. I want to be that, Jill. Ineedto be that,” I confessed.
Jill touched my arm, swiping at her eyes. “There he is,” she whispered, smiling through her tears. “That was the Hunt my brother loved. The oneIlove,” she explained. “Youcanbe vulnerable, Hunt. Vulnerabilityisan attractive quality in a man. It is one of the big reasons Mark adored you,” she added. “You have this rough exterior. A realman’s manpersona, but Mark knew who you really are. He loved that side of you. I bet you thought it was you who took care of Mark, right?”
“I did take care of him,” I defended. “He liked me to be the leader, to make the decisions, be that person for us.”
“You didn’t make the decisions, Hunt. He liked you to think he liked it,” she pointed out. “Mark adored your kind soul. Headored that boyish way you act so strong and in control, but he recognized your softness. He let you be whatever you thought you were. Heck, he even nurtured that in you, but honestly, he saw you for you. I hate to inform you of the obvious, but you are not this stoic, in-control, miserable man you’ve portrayed since he died.”
“Yes, I am.”
“Nope! You’re not. You’re justbecomingthat guy.”
Her words stung, but she was correct. I couldn’t remember the old me any longer. Time had cemented, or hung, a badge of defeat on me and I’d let it happen. She wasn’t telling me anything that I didn’t know. Mark had been the planner, the leader, and the director of our lives together. He only acted like I was in control. He onlypretendedto give me the reins.
“Jesus! We were talking about the doctor a few minutes ago,” I stated. “Not all of this crap.”
“I know,” she agreed. “We still are.”
My eyes narrowed. “I don’t follow,” I admitted.
“Show him,” she urged. “Show Ben who you truly are, Hunt. And if it helps in any way, you have my support,” she offered.
“I don’t know.”
“Yes, you do know. Let Ben see the vulnerable side of our beloved sheriff, my other brother.”
I stared into her eyes and slowly began to smile. “I could, couldn’t I?”
Jill nodded and smiled while fighting back tears. “I bet Mark would like that.”
“How about us?” I asked. “What are we going to do to make a change for us?”
“You and I are just fine, brother. But how about we both start living again?”
