Broken to belong, p.21
Broken to Belong, page 21
“Come on,” I yelled above the roar of the rain as I grabbed Dani’s hand, and we dashed to the barn. It felt like ages since the first time I had taken Dani there. I unlocked the latch, and we went inside. Water dripped down Dani’s face, and it trickled down my cheeks, nose, and neck.
We stood with the door open for a moment watching the storm as the thunder and rain grew louder. I shut the door, and as I turned around, Dani took my face in her hands and kissed me. My mouth mingled with the rain that dripped down from her hair as I held her close to me.
“I don’t know what’s going to happen.” She rested her forehead on mine. She took a step back and looked into my eyes. “I do know one thing. Meeting you and getting to know you this summer has been the best thing that’s happened to me in a really long time. I don’t know how to explain how connected I feel to you, but it reminds me of when I write a song, and I don’t play it for a while. Then I pick up my guitar years later, and somehow, my fingers go to the strings, and my voice knows every note and every lilt. Loving you is like that, Mae. I love you by heart.”
My heart pounded in my chest, and I put my hands on Dani’s face and kissed her again. Her hands rested on mine, and held them. Then, we held on to each other. I felt too much at once. The rush of love and wonder slowed with dread and worry. The heat of attraction cooled by shame and regret.
“I can’t leave here. Not now,” my voice shook. “And I don’t know about the future. I need to be somewhere where I can make a difference. I don’t know what the answer is.”
Dani sighed and looked down, shuffling her feet. “I’m going to spend some time at my sister’s house in Colorado after I’m done recording. Then I’m going back home for a few weeks before I release the record. Maybe we can just visit each other as much as we can for a while, and we can keep thinking through everything. I don’t want to give up,” she took my hand.
The rain ceased, and a sudden silence took its place. We walked outside to see a rainbow in the distance. We made our way back to the house, and as what-ifs filled my mind, I tightened my grip on Dani’s hand.
Before we knew it, it was time for the local polls to open. On the night of the vote, I stayed late to watch the results with the other staff. We decided it would be best to send the residents to bed. We expected the results to be tight and knew it could be a long night ahead.
Just before the precincts started closing, Heather arrived with two large canvas grocery bags full of snacks for everyone. She grinned at me, and I averted my eyes. It was the first time I had seen her since she had kissed me. I walked to the kitchen and opened a bottle of wine as I avoided her stare. I filled up a few glasses, and took two in my hand to take to the others. As I walked to go to the living room, Heather stood in the doorway, leaning against the frame with her hands in her pockets.
“Hey,” she said, smirking. “You disappeared on me.”
I shrugged my shoulders and started to walk by. She placed her hand on my lower back and looped her finger through my belt loop, catching me. She did the exact same thing in the home we once shared, usually after an argument when I wanted to walk away, but she wanted me to stay. She would catch me and sweet talk me until I melted into the mold she wanted to fit me in, always giving what I wanted over to her desires.
I turned around and whispered, “please don’t” before walking away.
I stepped into the living room where everyone else fixed their eyes on the screen as the first tallies came through. No one seemed to notice how unsettled I was. Heather walked in soon after I did, drinking a glass of wine and peering at me over the rim from time to time.
The early results were too close to call, which was what we expected to happen. As the night wore on, the tally grew larger, showing more people turned out to vote on the issue than any of us had anticipated.
Rachel leaned forward often, hands clasped and brought to her face, focused on what the night would hold for SASH and the work she had devoted her life to. Lara kept a close watch on her, staying close and checking in with her.
Around 1 AM, something surprising happened. The last precinct reported, and the final results came in with a wider margin anyone could have guessed would occur, by nearly ten percentage points. We won.
Rachel and Lara cried and hugged each other. Anita jumped up and down and danced. Dani hugged me and laughed with unbelief and relief. Heather smiled as Rachel thanked her. The others also gave Heather high fives and hugs. I kept my distance, and said, “Great work, Heather,” and she smiled at me.
After the eruption of joy quieted, Dani and I went outside to the front porch and sat on the swing. Coolness filled the air, giving the sign that Fall was near. We sat there in silence, knowing goodbye was upon us. I almost asked her to stay. I almost asked her to come back to Alabama after she finished recording. I almost told her about Heather. Instead, I stayed quiet, and we fell asleep there, a blanket around us. We woke up to the greyness of dawn and a damp chill in the morning air.
Twenty-Two
Dani
As my last week at SASH began, the fact I would have to say goodbye to my new friends and to Mae loomed heavy over me. The relief and joy I had felt over winning the vote soon faded, and I spent the mornings breathing deeply before heading downstairs, my head hung low as I tried to take in the sound of the creaking staircase, the smell of the coffee brewing in the kitchen, and the sounds of the residents laughing together. In the evenings, I scratched out my thoughts in my journal and made notes on the songs I would be recording in the Nashville studio. Sleep evaded me, and I tossed and turned as my mind flurried with what ifs and Mae.
Two days before I left, I spent some extra time with the residents and went to group one last time. I looked around the room, trying to find the words I wanted to say.
“I don’t think I can fully express how you’ve impacted me. That first day I came to group, I felt overwhelmed by how much your own stories reminded me of mine. I remember wondering if I would be able to handle being here this summer, not because you are too much, but because I realized I hadn’t fully healed from all the pain in my past.” I paused and looked around the room, my voice stretched. “But somehow this summer, getting to know each of you has brought a little more healing in my own life. It’s funny to me now that I thought I was coming here to help you and help SASH thrive, when it turns out you’ve all helped me. So, thank you.”
“You have helped us, Dani.” Sarah Beth spoke up, smiling. “I think, at least for me, you’ve shown me how I can turn around the bad stuff that’s happened to me into something good.”
“I’d say the same thing,” Ja’Marcus laughed while Aimee and Sebastian nodded and grinned.
Kyle’s mouth curled to one side, and he cleared his throat. “You’ve given me a lot of hope. Thanks.”
Before leaving the room, I gave them each a hug and asked them to keep me posted on how things were going for them. Mae stood in the corner of the room as they left, her face red and arms crossed.
On my last morning at SASH, when the light was still grey, I went for a walk with Rachel. The air felt cool, and a light mist softened the lines of the pastures.
“I’m going to miss you, Dani,” Rachel held her arms close to her as we walked along the fence line.
“I’ll miss you, too, Rachel.” I pushed my hair behind my ears.
“I don’t think you’ll ever know the full impact you’ve made. On the residents, our staff, and our community. You’ve touched a lot of hearts, including mine. I can’t say thank you enough,” she looked at me.
“Well, I don’t think I could ever communicate how much this whole summer has affected me. I’ve learned so much about perseverance and what it means to shine light into dark places. I’ve gained friends that feel like family. Hell, I’ve even fallen in love,” I said laughing a little as Rachel smiled and chuckled back. “Thank you.” I stopped walking and looked her in the eye.
Rachel put her arms around me and held onto me for a moment “I’m so proud of you. And I feel grateful I get to know you, Dani.” I thought back to that first moment I shared with Rachel, walking to her car, feeling unsure of myself and whether I was doing the right thing. I knew I had made the right decision to come to Alabama, a moment somehow orchestrated beyond my own understanding.
That night, the residents and staff gave me a send-off party that took me back to my first night in Alabama. The windows of the home glowed orange as we sat around a bonfire out back. I brought my guitar outside, and we sang together. I fell silent as I played, listening to the voices of people I had grown to deeply love. I watched them, their faces bright from the firelight, surrounded in shadow behind. I closed my eyes, hoping I could hold on to the memory.
As the night wore on, Mae stayed quiet and on the periphery. Her hair reflected the glow of the fire as she stared into her cup. I knew that my leaving would be harder for both of us than we had anticipated, and as I watched her, I hoped she would be ok. I knew it was time to go home with her one last time before leaving for a while.
After I hugged everyone goodbye, I walked over to Mae’s truck, which she had already loaded up with my guitar and bags. Rachel walked us over and hugged me one last time, “Let me know when you make it to Nashville. We’ll see you in October for our wedding. And thank you, again.”
As Mae drove her truck down the gravel road, the house disappeared from sight, and hot tears welled up inside my eyes. I knew I was ready to leave, and yet I still didn’t feel ready to say goodbye. I was leaving some of the best friends I had found, my new family of sorts. The hardest goodbye was still to come.
Mae and I were mostly quiet on the way back to her place, only breaking the silence to comment on the going away party. We didn’t say anything else until we pulled into her driveway. Mae stopped the engine and sat a minute before she whispered, “I need a shower from the fire.”
“Me, too,” I responded as I opened my door.
She set out fresh towels while I got out a shirt and pajama pants to sleep in. I walked into the bathroom, and we both stepped into the steamy spray of the water, anxious to rid our hair of the lingering smoke. After rinsing my hair, I turned and put my arms around Mae. Our bodies pressed together as we held on. I could feel her hands tight on my back as I rested my head against her forehead. She kissed me before stepping out. I stood there a few more moments, letting the water fall on my face in hopes to wake up a little more.
When I came out, I found Mae on her screened in porch, resting her head on her knees and staring into the dark of the night. I sat next to her and rested my hand on hers.
The air bore a slight early chill, and I shivered. I didn’t know what to say, even though hundreds of words ran through my mind. Words like “promise, future, possibility,” as well as “love, committed, trust,” among a barrage of others. Instead of those, when I spoke, all I could manage was, “It’s getting late.”
Mae looked out into the darkness and answered, “It is late. We should go inside. You have a long drive tomorrow.”
We walked into her room and lay on her bed, silent. I snuggled in close and held onto her as we drifted off to sleep.
The next morning, I woke up to the smell of breakfast cooking and the sight of Mae handing me a cup of coffee. It reminded me of when I brought coffee to her after we were up all night, worried about Kyle and his overdose. After Mae walked out of the room, I stared into my mug a few moments, remembering.
I got up and walked to the kitchen and put my arms around Mae as she stood at the counter, moving omelets onto our plates. She put her hands on mine then turned around, and we stood holding each other in silence.
“I know you have to go,” she whispered. “But it’s still hard. I still don’t want you to.”
I breathed in slowly, “I know. I don’t want to say goodbye, because I don’t know ...” I couldn’t finish the sentence. Because I didn’t know how.
After breakfast, Mae drove me to pick up my rental car. She helped me move my bags and guitar from her truck to the car. We kissed each other, and I promised to call when I got to Nashville. I got in the car, and started to drive away as I listened to Eva Cassidy’s “Early Morning Rain.” I looked at Mae standing next to her truck, watching and waving goodbye, her image disappearing from the rear view mirror, but etched deeply in my mind.
Mae
Watching Dani drive away felt surreal. Everything moved in slow motion as I drove back home. I was thankful that it was Saturday, and I didn’t have to work. Anita came by later that afternoon, so we could make dinner together, and we sat on my screened in porch and talked while we ate.
“How you holding up?” she started.
“I’m ok, I think. We’ve talked about visiting each other when we can, and that helps. But there’s still so much up in the air—you know? It worries me.”
She looked at me and touched my hand for a brief moment.
“I know you’ll figure it out,” her soft voice provided the ground for my thoughts to sprawl like a patch of blackberry brambles.
I took a drink of my water and stared outside at the backyard, remembering the night in Dani’s backyard, when we looked through the telescope together and how perfect Dani seemed in that moment, her wonder at the stars and the gentleness of her melancholy showing through.
Then, my mind turned to Heather, and how perfect everything seemed at first, but how quickly things changed. The thought of Heather led me to the memory of her kissing me in her apartment while Dani was in Missouri, and the flood of confusion and shame nauseated me.
What was wrong with me? What if I was wrong about Dani? About Heather? Had she changed? Did it matter to me?
“What is it, Mae?” Anita asked me, as if she could see my mind chasing thought after thought.
I startled out of my thoughts, embarrassed that someone else was there while I was remembering.
“It’s nothing,” I said. “I just know we have a lot to figure out.”
She kept her silence as she looked into my eyes, an invitation to say more, but I couldn’t. I wasn’t ready to talk about it all with anyone, not even Anita. She changed the subject to work, and we spent the rest of the evening reflecting on how glad we were that SASH won the vote.
When I got to work on Monday, I noticed Heather’s car parked in front of the house. I went inside, stepping lightly so she wouldn’t hear, and I heard her talking with Rachel in her office as I walked by to go to the group room. The group discussions that day centered on saying goodbye to Dani and on the new school year and what it might hold for each of the residents. Considering all the heaviness we had been through, it felt like a relief to have a lighter group time.
After group time was over, I looked out the window to see that Heather’s car was still there. Then I made my way to the kitchen and noticed her in the dining room, helping set the table. She stayed for dinner and told everyone she was heading back home to Atlanta the next morning. Rachel thanked Heather for her work to help SASH stay open and in helping us gain so much support from the community.
Heather turned her eyes downward and shook her head, “It was you all, not me. I just helped.”
My eyes stayed fixed on her as I tried to process what she said. It wasn’t like Heather to be so humble. Or was it? How could I know for sure? How could I be sure of anything?
Once dinner was over, I went outside to the porch and watched the residents play kickball in the yard. A cool breeze blew across the fields and set the wind chimes into melodic motion. The chill in the air seemed too soon, replacing the warmth I had become used to.
I heard some footsteps next to me, and I glanced over to see Heather standing nearby.
“Can I sit down?” she asked me.
I nodded my head and turned to face the fields and gaze across the waving grasses.
“I wanted to tell you something,” she said to me, her voice gentle and quiet. “Well, a couple of things. And I know it might not matter, but I need to say it.”
I looked over at her as I shifted in my chair and wrapped my arms around myself.
“First—” she turned toward me “—I am sorry if I confused you or hurt you. I shouldn’t have kissed you. I would say I am sorry for kissing you, but that wouldn’t be true.”
The back of my neck set on fire, and I looked down in silence. As I pictured being there in that moment, when she turned my face toward her and kissed me, the uneasiness filled me. I couldn’t bear to look at her, but I wanted to give her the space to talk.
She continued on, “I also wanted to tell you that I am coming back. I accepted the position at the university, and I’m moving to Alabama in a few weeks. I’m looking forward to doing something meaningful, and I already talked with Rachel about using my position to start a scholarship program for SASH residents. I know it won’t be immediate, but I’m hopeful I can make it happen within a year or two.”
I looked up at her. “Wow, that would be incredible. Thank you, Heather. I mean that.”
She leaned toward me a little more.
“Mae, I know you and Dani are still trying to figure it all out. And I don’t have the best track record with you. I know that I’ve hurt you … a lot.”
“That’s an understatement,” I whispered, and she looked away a moment before meeting my eyes.
“I know,” she sighed. “You’re right. I am so, so sorry, Mae. I wish I could go back in time and be the woman I needed to be for you. I still care for you. You have to know that. You have to see it. If you ever decided it was worth trying again, I’m here, Mae. If there’s one thing I learned this summer, it’s that I still love you.”
I stared at her in silence.
“I’ll see you soon,” she said, and she got up and walked to her car. I closed my eyes, wishing I had someone to talk to and thought about the weekend ahead. I needed to ground myself. I needed to get away. I knew I needed to talk to Dani.
The next weekend, I drove up to Nashville. I pulled up in front of where Dani was staying, and she met me at my truck, her smile wide and welcoming. She embraced me right away, and her softness and warmth drew me in, reminding me of what I had missed since she left.
