idea? Not like I haven’t had the thought myself plenty.”
Bailey sank down to sit on the toilet seat, pulling her heels up to rest on the front edge. “No, Mom, I never considered it for a moment. You’re here, so until you’re ready to move on, I’m stickin’ too.”
“Oh, Bailey. Always concerning yourself so much with me. I don’t want to be the thing that keeps you anchored to your unhappiness.”
“You’re one to talk, Mom. You’re happy? Tell me you’re happy here now.”
“You know I can’t. But I’m not the one torturing myself with a man who causes me more pain than happiness. He’s not the same Darren anymore, Bailey. Sometimes I think it’s part of the reason you came home, though.” She was silent for a moment. “Is it? Is that why you came home, because of him?”
“Of course not.” She knew she was lying the instant the words came out. It was at least partly because of him. To some degree or another, she knew it was. Even if he hadn’t lived here anymore, he’d be home someday. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye again—even if he hated . . . wanted to hate her. “He drove me home today. Stopped by his home to remove my sutures before he dropped me off.”
“Huh . . . well, that’s something idn’t it. . .” It wasn’t a question. Her mother was riddling it out in her mind. Trying just like Michelle to figure out what the hell it all meant. By the sound of her overlong silence, she was just as stumped as Michelle—just as stumped as Bailey for that matter.
Now, though, she was soaking wet and alone after her shower, still trying to whittle it out in her mind. She was startled out of her reverie as she stood staring in the fogged mirror at her loose, wet curls that cascaded down her back. The knock at her door scared her to the point of causing a yelp to escape her lips. She wrapped the thin robe tight, tying the sash at her waist and plodding out to the front door that opened onto her screened front porch.
She gasped when she opened the door and saw him standing there. It had started sprinkling, and he was wet. His dark hair glistened with droplets of rain water. It wasn’t pouring, and he had to have been standing outside for some time to get so wet, but his T-shirt was soaked through, and he stood, barely looking higher than her mouth. She didn’t have any idea what to say, and so she stood there as still as he was, waiting. She waited until she was certain he intended to say nothing, and then she opened her mouth to speak.
“Dar—”
“Shut up.” His eyes finally flashed to hers, and the expression made her gasp again. “I’ve thought endlessly . . . years. . .” His pauses were overly long, and his voice was hoarse. “I have relived that night so many times. So many mistakes. So many things. . .” He was nearly stuttering over his words. He was emotional, and her own eyes were tearing at nothing more than the choked, husky sound of his voice. “Could I go back . . . God, could I have just gone back and changed it all. All I wanted was you. I wanted to have you, throw everything else out the window for you. Maybe if I had. Maybe if I’d given in sooner, the fight would have been over. There’d have been no girlfriend keeping me from you, chasing me away from you. Maybe if I’d have had backbone enough, I’d have stayed for you.” He started pacing then, speaking in a flurry, but none of that explosive emotion compared to the moment he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the wall beside her. He reached for her cheeks, cupped them with his hands as his expression moved from fury to pain over and over again. “You did this! You did it! And I’m the one who feels guilty for it. Fuck!” He pulled his hands from her cheeks just to rake them harshly through his hair as he stepped back from her. “I want . . . I want so much to hate you. Do you know what that’s like? Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you, smell you, be near you again, feel
Bailey sank down to sit on the toilet seat, pulling her heels up to rest on the front edge. “No, Mom, I never considered it for a moment. You’re here, so until you’re ready to move on, I’m stickin’ too.”
“Oh, Bailey. Always concerning yourself so much with me. I don’t want to be the thing that keeps you anchored to your unhappiness.”
“You’re one to talk, Mom. You’re happy? Tell me you’re happy here now.”
“You know I can’t. But I’m not the one torturing myself with a man who causes me more pain than happiness. He’s not the same Darren anymore, Bailey. Sometimes I think it’s part of the reason you came home, though.” She was silent for a moment. “Is it? Is that why you came home, because of him?”
“Of course not.” She knew she was lying the instant the words came out. It was at least partly because of him. To some degree or another, she knew it was. Even if he hadn’t lived here anymore, he’d be home someday. She wasn’t ready to say good-bye again—even if he hated . . . wanted to hate her. “He drove me home today. Stopped by his home to remove my sutures before he dropped me off.”
“Huh . . . well, that’s something idn’t it. . .” It wasn’t a question. Her mother was riddling it out in her mind. Trying just like Michelle to figure out what the hell it all meant. By the sound of her overlong silence, she was just as stumped as Michelle—just as stumped as Bailey for that matter.
Now, though, she was soaking wet and alone after her shower, still trying to whittle it out in her mind. She was startled out of her reverie as she stood staring in the fogged mirror at her loose, wet curls that cascaded down her back. The knock at her door scared her to the point of causing a yelp to escape her lips. She wrapped the thin robe tight, tying the sash at her waist and plodding out to the front door that opened onto her screened front porch.
She gasped when she opened the door and saw him standing there. It had started sprinkling, and he was wet. His dark hair glistened with droplets of rain water. It wasn’t pouring, and he had to have been standing outside for some time to get so wet, but his T-shirt was soaked through, and he stood, barely looking higher than her mouth. She didn’t have any idea what to say, and so she stood there as still as he was, waiting. She waited until she was certain he intended to say nothing, and then she opened her mouth to speak.
“Dar—”
“Shut up.” His eyes finally flashed to hers, and the expression made her gasp again. “I’ve thought endlessly . . . years. . .” His pauses were overly long, and his voice was hoarse. “I have relived that night so many times. So many mistakes. So many things. . .” He was nearly stuttering over his words. He was emotional, and her own eyes were tearing at nothing more than the choked, husky sound of his voice. “Could I go back . . . God, could I have just gone back and changed it all. All I wanted was you. I wanted to have you, throw everything else out the window for you. Maybe if I had. Maybe if I’d given in sooner, the fight would have been over. There’d have been no girlfriend keeping me from you, chasing me away from you. Maybe if I’d have had backbone enough, I’d have stayed for you.” He started pacing then, speaking in a flurry, but none of that explosive emotion compared to the moment he grabbed her shoulders and pushed her to the wall beside her. He reached for her cheeks, cupped them with his hands as his expression moved from fury to pain over and over again. “You did this! You did it! And I’m the one who feels guilty for it. Fuck!” He pulled his hands from her cheeks just to rake them harshly through his hair as he stepped back from her. “I want . . . I want so much to hate you. Do you know what that’s like? Do you have any idea what it’s like to see you, smell you, be near you again, feel
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