Love and Other Natural Disasters by Holly Shumas Page B

anger anymore, just fear. I held out my arms.
    I didn't think time could move any
slower than it had for the past several weeks. But it could. Time moved so
slowly that day that there ought to have been another word for it. Something
with more syllables.
    Finally, late that afternoon, I
dropped Jacob off at Tamara and Clayton's with a backpack laden with his
favorite DVDs. All signs of his earlier resistance were gone, and he was happy
to see Tamara when she opened the door. She gave me a hug, whispered in my ear,
"Go get ' em , tiger," and then I was off.
    I tried to put myself in a mind-set
to forgive Jon. I told myself over and over, He didn't have sex with her.
She was right there in front of him and he resisted. That had to mean
something. Everyone except Lil thought it did. But I kept getting stuck on the
image of Jon and Laney in the car together, with him struggling mightily
against himself. He might not have touched her sexually, but he must have at
least entertained the possibility. Not to mention, he could very well be in
love with her.
    If only I could have stopped at
that first thought: he didn't have sex with her. Or, better yet, he's
really in love with me. But every thought led inexorably to the next, down
this rabbit hole of betrayal, and in my mind, it never ended well, much as I
tried to force it. Finally I just tried to think as little as possible, staying
busy right up until Jon knocked at the door.
    As we stood at the threshold, I
felt curiously shy and expectant, and I saw that in Jon's face, too.
    "Hi," he said. His voice
had a faint crack in it, like when you haven't used it in a while and aren't
sure what will come out.
    "Hi," I said, sounding
soft and girlish. It surprised me. "Come in," I added, now more like
myself.
    "Okay." He laughed.
"You want to step back then, sister?"
    I laughed, too, realizing I'd been
barring his entrance. I moved aside sheepishly, and he came forward.
    "Couch?" he asked.
    "Couch," I affirmed.
    We settled ourselves, both laughing
slightly at the shared absurdity of being so nervous around the person you knew
better than anyone. Thought you knew better than anyone. My laughter
dried up immediately.
    "So, hi," he said,
smiling.
    "Hi," I said, not fully
returning the smile.
    He realized it was down to
business. "Well, then," he said. "I guess I'm supposed to give
you a progress report."
    "I guess so."
    "Have you been listening to my
messages?"
    "Yes."
    "That's good. I wondered
sometimes if you were just deleting them."
    "I wouldn't do that."
    He looked at me with affection.
"No, you wouldn't."
    I had to look away. His gaze was
too intimate. It pulled too hard.
    "What do you think of the
messages?" he asked.
    "What do you mean?"
    "I guess I just want to know
where I stand before I start talking. I mean, if it's okay for me to ask
that."
    I felt flustered. "I just—I
don't know how to answer."
    "You don't seem as angry as
you did. Am I reading you right?"
    "Sometimes I'm still angry,
but on the whole, I'm just upset. Confused. Disappointed. Scared about what's
going to happen to us."
    "Well, we're feeling a lot of
the same things, then. That's a good thing, right?" His expression was
hopeful.
    "Maybe."
    "You wanted me to go to
therapy to figure out why I did what I did. And I think I have."
    "So fast?" I couldn't
help but ask.
    "I have a really good
therapist. You'd like her. She doesn't let me get away with anything."
    "What are you trying to get
away with?"
    "It was a figure of speech.
Maybe the wrong one, given what's happened between us." He hesitated.
"Can I touch you? Maybe hold your hand?"
    Again, too intimate. "I don't
think I'm comfortable with that yet."
    "That's okay. My therapist
said this is going to take time. She said that I'll probably have to reassure
you a lot, and accept that you might not be reassured for years. I might have
to keep answering the same questions, and living with your doubt, and with the
fact that you might not let yourself really trust me or