Practice makes perfect, p.25
Practice Makes Perfect, page 25
I rip a clump of weeds out of the front beds of Mabel’s Inn. I don’t fully know why I’m out here—at six a.m. no less. I just know that I woke up in Annie’s bed at four thirty this morning after promising myself I wouldn’t sleep over there again, and then immediately got up and went for a run to clear my head. I jogged through town to make sure everything looked safe (apparently, I’ve designated myself the town vigilante), and before going back up to my room, I noticed that Mabel’s flower beds were overrun with weeds. So here I am. Hands and knees, ripping clumps from her garden like they cheated on me and I need vengeance.
But really, I am desperately trying to keep my mind from thinking about Annie. I can’t figure out how to shut these feelings down. I’ve never had anyone stuck in my head like this before. When I close my eyes, I see her face. I hold her in my dreams, and I hear her voice in my ear when I’m waking up. I imagine leaving her after the wedding and my fists ball up.
I rub my chest.
It’s time to talk to someone. Shifting from my knees, I sit in the grass and scrape my hands through my hair wishing I could scrape these thoughts out too.
Before I talk myself out of it, I pull out my cell phone. Miraculously, I have service right here in the dirt of Mabel’s garden. I press the contact name open on my screen.
He answers on the second ring. “Will? What’s wrong?”
“Why do you automatically think something is wrong? Can’t I call my brother for no reason?”
“Not at six a.m. you can’t. And not after ghosting me for several weeks.” I hear the shuffling of covers and a female voice ask who’s on the phone. Hannah. Of course she’d be in bed with him. They’re a couple, and couples sleep together. All night. Side by side.
My mind flashes once again to Annie—the way she looked waking up on my chest yesterday morning. I think of her soft blue eyes flashing up at me under her thick dark lashes and the curve of her smile. And suddenly I think of seeing that every day for the rest of my life, and that painful tug in my chest happens again.
Ethan whispers to Hannah that he’ll be right back, and then I hear a door shutting softly. “Okay, what’s going on? You’ve been dodging all of my calls and texts for weeks, and now you’re calling at the crack of dawn?”
“Hardly the crack of dawn. Some of us live a whole life before six a.m.”
“I’m not one of them. I haven’t had coffee yet, and I feel like shit before seven, so you better have an amazing reason for needing me this early.”
“I’m sorry,” I say, and my words are followed by a thick pause. “Not for calling early. I mean, I guess I’m sorry for that too. Or, no I’m not. You should wake up earlier. It’s good for you.” I clear my throat when I realize I’m nervously rambling. “I’m sorry for not supporting you, and for generally being an asshole about the engagement. I was never truly upset with you for proposing. I think I was just jealous and bitter that you were able to when I wasn’t. And honestly, I didn’t understand before…about you and Hannah.”
“But you do now?”
“Support you guys? Yeah, I—”
“No,” he says, quickly. “You said you didn’t understand before. But you do now?”
Damn. I walked right into that one.
I drag in a deep breath. “I—uh—maybe.” Shit, this is painful. I’m so used to being the one who has all the answers, who plows the way and teaches Ethan everything he knows. I’ve been protecting my brother from the world since we were kids. And now I feel lost and…terrified. “Ethan, how did you know that it was worth it to love Hannah?”
He laughs quietly on the other end as it sounds like he’s opening a bag of coffee. “You make it seem like there was a choice in the matter. Believe me, if I could have chosen, I would still be living in my lonely one-bedroom apartment in SoHo. There was no choice in the matter, Will, and I’m thankful for it. I met Hannah and I fell in love completely against my better judgment.”
Those words land with a dramatic superhero comic book Thunk! into my brain. I have no choice in the matter, my heart wants Annie.
“Okay then…” I say, thinking of how to rephrase my question. “How did you know your feelings were worth giving in to?”
“Hmm.” He’s quiet for a minute. “I guess when I realized it felt scarier to live life without her than with her.”
Any other answer besides that one. Please. Any other answer and I would have been able to shove it under a rug. But that one…I can’t dismiss it.
“Did you meet someone, Will?”
“Sort of.”
“And you’re scared?”
“A little. I’ve generally tried to not need anyone since I was a kid and realized that needing people usually ends in something painful.”
There’s a taut silence. “Hey, Will?”
“Hmm?”
“I don’t think I’ve ever really said thank you before. For everything you were to me and did for me growing up.” I sit silent, unable to form any words. Ethan continues, “I’m not sure I ever realized the differences in our childhood quite as much as just now when you said that. Because I don’t have the same reaction toward needing people as you do—largely because when I needed you, you were always there for me.”
“I wasn’t there for you when I left after high school and joined the military.”
“Are you kidding me? You sent money home to me every month. You even made it back to see me off to prom. You might not have been there day in and day out after you left home, but I never doubted that you were always one phone call away and you’d drop everything to be there for me. So…thank you.”
I swallow and clench my jaws—only barely managing to get my words out without tears. “No problem.”
Ethan chuckles lightly, understanding how deeply uncomfortable I am with, well, feeling my feelings. He has mercy on me. “All right. Now tell me about her,” he says, and I hear the smile in his voice. I imagine it’s smug and over-the-top. I wish I could withhold information about Annie just to piss him off, but unfortunately, I’ve been dying to talk to someone about her for weeks now.
“She’s cute. Like in that wholesome, blindingly happy sort of way—but she has so much grit under the surface that it makes her almost dangerous. She’s kind and empathetic, and so damn passionate and exciting in a way I’ve never really known before…and she’s way too good for me.”
He laughs. “So you love her?”
“That’s why I called you, Mr. Hannah. I don’t know. I don’t know that I’m even capable of love. I mean…you were there, Ethan. You were right beside me when we had to close ourselves in my room and blare our radio just so we didn’t hear the screaming matches between Mom and Dad. You heard the way he talked to her and how she would throw things at him. I’m so scared that’ll end up being me one day, and I won’t be able to leave. I’ll be just like them—stuck in a loveless toxic relationship that doesn’t seem to have an exit. How the hell did you get over that?”
“Quite frankly, therapy.”
“Shit.”
“Yeah. We had dysfunctional parents, Will. We spent our entire adolescence in an emotionally unstable environment and were made to feel like we were the problems most of the time. You more than me, obviously, because you shielded me from a lot. It’s not something you just get over or choose to un-feel. And I think the day I came to terms with that was when I started truly healing. I’ll never be able to shove it down with some elbow grease. It’s going to take time, and work, and patience from my partner as I unpack it.”
“I hear you, but I spent most of my life feeling absolutely miserable every day. I don’t want to risk that ever happening again.” Even though in my heart I know that Annie doesn’t have the same hurtful traits my parents had.
“Will, we were children. We didn’t have a choice. But you’re an adult now—you always have the choice to leave a bad situation.”
“What if I can’t see that it’s bad?”
“I’ll tell you.”
“What if I’ll be the one that’s bad for Annie? What if I’m like Mom and Dad and the only way to protect Annie is to not let myself have her?”
“Shit, Will. Have you been carrying that thought around this whole time? Is that why you’ve never settled down with anyone?”
My silence answers that question.
“That’s a lie. You are a good person, with a damn good heart. You deserve love and to give love.”
I have to clear my throat against the lump. And I wipe my face because apparently I’m sweating out of my eyes. “Thanks, man.”
“Now, here’s the flip side from a divorce lawyer: I’m still not convinced marriage is for everyone. So if you’re one of those people it’s not for, Will, that’s okay. It doesn’t make you a bad person or less worthy of happiness, or even love, than anyone else out there. It means you had a messier start in life than most people. However”—he says with emphasis—“if you are one of those people who always said he would hate it and then changed his mind—that’s okay too. Just be honest with yourself about what you need, or else you’re going to be miserable in or out of love.”
I chuckle and shake my head. “And you said you’re not good at six a.m.”
“Yeah, well, don’t make it a habit.”
“Ethan?”
“Hmm?”
“I do love her. And I’m scared to death.”
Ethan’s sigh is dramatically long. “I’ll give you the name of my therapist. She does virtual appointments too. Might want to consider twice a week for a while.”
I laugh and wish I were near enough to give my brother a hug. I miss him and suddenly have the distinct feeling that I’ve kept myself too busy. That maybe the safety I thought my constant work was bringing me was actually hurting me.
Ethan and I hang up a minute later after I’ve told him to change the sheets on his guest bed because I’m coming for a visit soon. The second the call ends, I set my phone down and put my face in my hands. I’m not sure I feel much better, but I do feel closer to accepting my feelings.
I’m interrupted by a throat clearing to my left. I lift my head and find Mabel standing on her front porch in her light pink robe with a blue-and-white-checkered flannel gown peeking out the bottom.
“How long have you been standing there, nosy woman?” I ask her with a teasing smirk.
“Long enough to know that you love my Annie and you’re scared and I would really like to pay your mama and daddy a visit,” she says in her blunt fashion, and it makes me laugh. She smiles and doesn’t say anything else, just opens her arms.
I stand and walk over to her before stepping right into her arms and letting her fold me in the most comforting hug of my life. Mabel doesn’t say anything, she just squeezes me tight. I squeeze her back and bury my head in her neck, feeling a lot like the little boy who used to climb that magnolia tree just wishing for a hug like this.
Mabel doesn’t release me, but she pats my back affectionately. “Now…should I be worried that you were lying in my flower bed at six a.m.? I swear the young people in this town are always doing something concerning.”
CHAPTER THIRTY-TWO
Annie
It’s not my day to visit my grandma, but I’m going anyway. Logically I know that she’s not going to have any of the answers that I need—but I’m going anyway in some misplaced hope that she’ll be having the most amazing day she’s had in months, and she’ll be my grandma again tonight, full of wisdom and grace and can tell me exactly what to do.
I haven’t seen Will in a few days. Not since the night of my date with Brandon, to be exact. I think he might be hiding. That’s okay, though. I’ve been hiding too. We’re good at that.
He walked into the market yesterday, and I ducked behind a shelf and then abandoned my cart and crawled out. (Fine, I hunched over and tripped my way out.) The next day I saw him by The Pie Shop, and when we made eye contact, I blinked, and then he was gone. Ducked in an alley most likely. Just for good measure I texted him later that day.
Annie: You’re avoiding me, right?
Will: Yes. And you’re avoiding me?
Annie: Yes. I’m confused and need some time.
Will: Same. I miss you, though.
Annie: I miss you too.
So we got that cleared up, and now I’m just trying to figure out what in the world to do about him. Because I’m now able to fully admit to myself that I have feelings for him. Real ones. Ooey-gooey ones that could double as a butter cake. And that’s very, very bad because Will Griffin wants to remain as single as a prewrapped slice of American cheese.
So what’s one to do when she wants to be happily married more than anything just like her parents and her sibling, but has completely fallen for a man who will never be in a relationship? She moves on and gets over him. That’s the only thing to do, right? She goes on more dates with other men. She reminds herself that Will Griffin was never Fred Astaire and she’s not Audrey Hepburn, and when he gets on the airplane next week, he won’t be coming back like Fred did.
Right? I don’t know anymore. That’s why I’m here.
But when I go into my grandma’s room at her assisted-living facility, I find her sound asleep in her cushy recliner. She’s in her powder-blue, long-sleeved, button-down silk PJ set because even with Alzheimer’s, this woman remembers she will settle for nothing less than dressing to the nines at all times. She’s always been that way. Pristine clothes. Freshly ironed each day. Don’t leave the house without putting on your makeup and fixing your hair kind of southern woman.
I smile at the sight of her now, kicked back, sound asleep in her chair, Wheel of Fortune playing on the TV, casting her dim room in a subtle hue of blue. And for some reason, this sight makes me cry. I can’t wake her up. It will only disorient her and make the night a mess for her and the staff. But I need her. I need someone to point the way for me.
I need my mom and dad.
How is it possible to miss people I barely knew so acutely that I have to hold my stomach and sit down on the couch, doubling over to silently weep? There are so many times in a day when I wish I could call my mom. I can’t even fish into memories to find nuggets of her to hold on to. I don’t remember her. And the woman who doubled as both a grandma and a mother to me has one foot on earth and one foot in heaven.
I’m scared.
But I can’t tell my siblings any of this because, well, because that’s just not what I do. I’ve never saddled them with my emotional burdens. They have enough as it is without piling mine on top. And Will is leaving, so it’s useless to tell him.
So I cry silently in this blue room, soaking the tops of my jeans with tears until I feel a hand on my shoulder. I suck in a breath and look up into the eyes of Mabel. She frowns as she sees my face, and then uses the pad of her thumb to wipe tears off my cheeks. She silently urges me up from the couch and then whispers, “Come on, darlin’, let’s get out of here.”
* * *
—
Mabel reaches across the table and holds my hand. “Tell me why you’re crying, Annabell.”
“I’m not sure there’s only one reason.”
“Give me your top five then.”
We’re sitting in the dim dining room of the assisted-living center. Dinner ended about two hours ago, so Mabel and I are the only ones in here. The room is decorated in deep burgundy and gold and navy, and every time I bring my grandma out here she remarks on how tacky the place is. I have to agree. It’s a very nice facility, but something about it feels like a funeral home, which is unacceptable.
I make a mental note to bring in a fresh bright and colorful bouquet to put on each table tomorrow and talk to the facility manager about painting the room in a cheerier color.
“I’m not sure who I am anymore, Mabel—and I’d really like my mom to help me sort it out, but she can’t because she’s dead. And I never got to know her like my siblings did, and sometimes I resent them for that. And I don’t know why I’m crying over my dead parents when I’m almost thirty years old, when I don’t think I cried about them even in childhood.” I suck in a breath. “Oh, and I’ve fallen in love with a bodyguard who doesn’t believe in love and is leaving for good. Was that five? I don’t know.”
Mabel sighs. “Well shit, darlin’. You’re running a whole race in that brain of yours.” She squeezes my hand, urging me to look up into her kind eyes. “What do you need from me, sweetie? Advice? Or for me to listen?”
“Advice. I really need advice.”
“Good, cause you were gonna get it either way.” Her grin pulls one from me in return. “Truth be told, I’ve been waiting for this day. You’ve been overdue a good grieving for your parents.”
I shake my head. “That’s not what this is. I’m not grieving.” I pause and Mabel just watches me. “I’m not. They died decades ago, Mabel. I’ve lived a whole life without them. I barely know anything about the people who gave me life aside from the crumbs that my siblings tell me. And the rest of their memories are bottled up in a woman who can’t find them, and I’m this close to losing her for good,” I say, holding up my thumb and forefinger to show the most depressingly small measurement.
I don’t realize I’m crying during all of this until Mabel hands me a paper napkin across the table. I blot my eyes and thank my lucky stars that I didn’t wear mascara today.
“That’s grief, Annie. And it’s okay. Grief—that mean son of a bitch—doesn’t have a timeline or rules. It hits when it wants. Even with me—sometimes I feel all healed up, and then randomly I’ll catch a scent that smells like my husband’s cologne, and I’ll lose it in an aisle at the market. It doesn’t make sense, grief. And I’ve known you through it all, and I’ve never seen you grieve over your parents. Why?”
My lips quiver and I aim my gaze down at my lap. “I didn’t think I was allowed to.”
