Page 65 of The Other Half

Her eyes suddenly flash with recognition. Maybe she notices the resemblance to my dad. I hope not. She turns her head toward the back of the house. “Oliver?” she yells. She opens the door wider, “Come in, it must be freezing out there.”

“Thank you,” I say dejectedly. I can’t tell if she’s judging me or if she’s just concerned for me. I couldn’t blame her either way. I probably look like the epitome of a crazy ex-girlfriend right now, showing up unannounced, dripping water all over their carpet.

“Oakley?” I hear his voice and feel him rush over to me. “What the hell is going on?” He takes my cold hand in his warm, dry one and pulls me through the small house into his room.

“The hell?” His brother looks up from his phone to glance over at me. He doesn’t try to hide the grin pulling on his lips.

“Can we have a minute, please?” Oliver doesn’t look nearly as amused as Nate does.

He shakes his head. “Y’all must be pretty damn horny if she was willing to walk here in the rain, so I guess I better get out.”

My face flushes at his crude joke but Oliver doesn’t flinch. “Are you okay?”

I shake my head, and he pulls me into his chest, squeezing me like I may run away if he doesn’t hold me tight enough. And finally I allow a sob to escape my chest. A built up sob of pain, for not only my Dad’s asinine behavior, but also the pain he’s put my mom through, the uncertainty of her future and mine. The pain of losing Oliver, the pain of our unfair situation. The pain his family is feeling, knowing that their father may not have much time left. I’ve held all of it in for so long, and I can’t anymore.

“It’s okay.” He rubs his hand over my back in soothing motions. “I’m here.”

“I’m sorry,” my voice cracks.

I glance at the wall behind him and notice several pieces of scrap paper stuck to the wall with thumbtacks. There’s the drawing of me he showed me back in October, with me sitting at the desk in the art room. There’s also one of two people embracing, a guy and a girl, and he’s just barely lifting her off of the ground. Some of the others are more abstract. One of them is half of a woman’s face, her eye closed, and all around it are books and other objects. I thought the first drawing was impressive, but these are somehow even more mindblowingly realistic. I pull out of his embrace and step closer, examining them.

“Are these…me?”

I turn around to see him staring at the drawings like I was. “It kept me from going insane when we weren’t together. I didn’t have any photos of you. I needed something.”

I’m lost for words. All this time I thought he hated me from the second we broke up. I thought he’d completely forgotten what we had together, or worse it was never real in the first place. It’s almost hard to imagine him sitting here and drawing pictures of me from memory, meanwhile I thought he was hooking up with other people and pretending I didn’t exist.

He walks up behind me and curls his arms around me again. “You’re still shivering.”

Oh, yeah, I guess I am. I didn’t even realize at first how cold it is in here.

“You wanna take a bath?”

My eyebrows knit together. “What?”

“You’re shivering, and we don’t have heat. It’s a quick way to warm up. Then you can put on some dry clothes.”

“With your family here?” I hike my thumb over my shoulder.

He shrugs, “They don’t care. Come on.” He leads me into the bathroom and starts stripping my clothes off me, but not at all in a sexual manner. More like how you’d treat a wounded animal that you need to take to the vet, knowing it probably doesn’t trust you.

He runs the bath water and holds my hand as I step into the tub. “Are you getting in?” I ask.

He shakes his head and I try not to look disappointed. For some reason it feels like a rejection. “Did you want me to?”

I nod. He lets go of my hand and starts undressing himself, I try not to stare.

I scoot to the front of the tub so he can sit in it behind me. It’s cramped, but it’s still comfortable.

“This kind of reminds me of the hot tub,” he snickers lightly.

I lay my head against his chest. “I like this better.”

He wraps his arms around me and kisses the top of my head. “I’ve missed you so much, Oakley.” He lifts his hand to grab the bar of soap on the shelf next to us, and lathers it in the water. He uses it to rub my back and cover me in suds. I close my eyes, relishing in the feeling of having his hands on me again.

After the bath we make our way back into his room. I put on the dry clothes that he let me borrow, a pair of basketball shorts and a Poplar Valley High football shirt, which I’m guessing must have been Nate’s.

I catch him staring at me once I’m completely dry and dressed. “You’re beautiful,” he says softly.

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