Page 18 of Alive and Wells

“Hey, Filly,” Red shouts in our direction, using the new nickname the cowboys have given me. His tattooed, thick frame moves toward us, leading five other men. He runs a hand through his thick mop of dark reddish-brown hair as he speaks. “We’re heading to the river and you have no excuse not to join today.”

Austin’s truck door slams shut behind me, and his cowboy boots crunch over the rocky driveway back to his house.

“Just give me a few minutes. I’ll meet you down there,” I yell in the direction of the men.

“No excuses, Filly. Better see you there,” Red says.

They continue walking, still dressed in their riding gear and not looking at all like a group of men heading to the river. Without thinking, I follow in Austin’s footsteps, catching up to him as he’s walking up his front porch steps. When he spins around, there’s a fleeting look of happiness in the way the corners of his eyes crinkle.

“I wanted to thank you for today.”

“Okay,” he says dryly.

The Earth is spinning on its proper axis again; he’s back to normal.

“So, you know… thank you. Do you want to come for a swim?”

“I have a lot of work I should get to.” He reaches up to rub his jaw, and a momentary fantasy about what his scratchy beard might feel like on my skin almost has me reaching out to him. His stare falls to my lips, and his Adam’s apple bobs in his throat. I don’t know if he’s thinking about kissing me, but I do know I want him to be thinking about it.

The summer air fills my lungs just as a breeze slaps me with the scent of lilacs. A vicious joke.Thanks, mother nature.Fluttery feelings are replaced with heavy, KJ-infused chains wrapping around my chest until each inhale is a struggle. I’m not crying, but my vision is hazy as if I am, with floating clouds blurring the world around me.

I try to tell him in a polite tone that I need to leave, but the blood rushing past my ears muffles everything, so there’s a chance my lips are moving without sound. Though it feels like I’m trudging through deep sand, I force my feet to move. Without looking back—without even breathing in the summer air—I walk away from the man I don’t want to walk away from. Not even a little bit.

When I turn the corner, safely out of sight, I throw my back against the siding of a random tool shed. Leaning on the coarse wood, I take a few forced breaths until the world’s crisp again.

I should curl up in bed and cry over my marriage ending. I shouldn’t be thinking about a certain rancher, with a thick beard and strong arms, kissing me. I should be upset about cutting somebody I once loved from my life. I shouldn’t be eager to hop into bed with the first cute guy I see. I should be heartbroken, shouldn’t I?

There’s only one person here who can help me figure out what to do. And, luckily, she can always be found bent over a certain marble island, elbow-deep in dough. So I run.

“Beryl!” I blow through the screen door, letting it slam shut.

Her head pops out from the walk-in pantry off the kitchen. “Everything okay, honey?”

“I’m ready to talk. About him. About why I came here.”

She forces me to wait until we both have a coffee cup in our hands, and we’re seated on the porch swing overlooking the flourishing hay fields. For the first time, I tell somebody the whole truth. How he made everything seem perfect until he had me and then, like Jekyll and Hyde, he flipped. How quick I was to side with him when friends or family expressed concern. And all the events of the night I drove here. Beryl nods along as if nothing I tell her is new or shocking information. By the time I finish, my full cup has grown cold and my throat is hoarse.

“So, are you telling me all this because you’re finally committed to not going back?”

“God, I’ve long been committed to not going back.”Haven’t I?I mean, I’ve started making friends. I’ve thought long and hard about kissing somebody new. I bought new towels for the cabin. Formycabin. Isn’t that enough to prove I’m done with him? “I won’t survive him next time.”

My revelation is enough to make Beryl feel the need to place a small hand on my shoulder as water brims my eyes. I hadn’t said the words out loud before, but it’s true. I know it’s true.

“I just…” My fingernails tap the ceramic mug. “I want to move on… But every time I get a glimpse of my old self, something comes back to haunt me and steal the moment away.”

“Honey, you came in from a heck of a storm. You can’t expect to immediately be warm and dry. All you can do is strip the wet clothing, wrap yourself in a blanket, and allow yourself the time it takes to weather it. And it’s completely understandable to miss him, or miss what once was, even after everything.”

I stare down at the creamy swirl left unstirred in my coffee. “The thing is… I don’t miss him. I’m not sad to be without him. I keep feeling haunted by the thought that Ishouldbe feeling those things. Like I should miss him or still love him or whatever. Instead, I feel guilty because I don’t think I’m hurting the way I should be.”

“Y’know, you keep saying ‘should’. I think that word does nothing except lead to regrets. Whether you’re talking about something youshouldbe doing now or something youshould’vedone in the past, it’ll only bog you down. Forgetting about that silly word, what are you actually feeling? Focus on that.”

We swing in silence for a long while, letting the chickadees do the talking.

What am I actually feeling?

As I start to check off an imaginary grid of emotions, I get BINGO more than once.Is it humanly possible to feel every emotion at the same time?Even with all the feelings circling in my mind, relief about being at Wells Ranch and regret for not coming sooner are the two carrying the most impact.

I need to give up caring about anything to do with KJ, even if the damn lilacs never stop blooming. I’m never going back, so fuck whatever he would think or say about what I’m doing. Fuck being controlled.

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