Perfectly Undone

by Jamie Raintree

  Family of five. Thanksgiving had been Abby’s favorite holiday.

  Mom had rattled off instructions for over an hour, pointing her ragged, chewed-to-the-quick fingernails at this dish, then that, before I made an excuse to escape to the laundry room, where Mom stored the overstocked pantry items she collected on sale. With the light still off, I wiped my hands on my apron and placed them on the washing machine to brace myself for the tears that would surely come. We all tried to make up for Abby’s absence in different ways, and Mom’s coping mechanism was pretending nothing had changed, that we were not broken. But I was not perfect. I couldn’t mash the perfect potatoes or whip the perfect cream, and no amount of beautiful food would tempt Abby down from her bedroom to dip her finger into a casserole dish or pick at the corners of the corn bread. I pulled myself together in the darkness, where no one could see whether or not the turkey was the precise shade of golden brown.

  The door cracked open, letting in a sliver of light. It spotlighted my face and revealed Cooper’s in the space between.

  “Do you have any sweet potatoes in there?” Cooper asked.

  “Sweet potatoes?”

  “I don’t think your mom made enough food.”

  A grin slid across his face, and I let out a watery laugh.

  “I hate you,” I told him.

  He laughed and said, “I know. I love you, too.” He closed the door behind him, and there in the pitch-black, he pulled me into his arms and kissed me. He pushed his body against mine until my breasts were crushed against his chest, and I tingled with his touch. With one wordless gesture, there in my mother’s laundry room, Cooper took over as the protector of my heart, the keeper of my hurts.

  And I let him.

  When I pull into the driveway at lunchtime the following Monday and see Cooper standing in the front yard talking to Reese, the sleeves of his dress shirt rolled up to mid-forearm and the sun lighting up his golden hair, I know I can no longer count on anyone else to keep them for me. I have to deal with all these new ones on my own.

  I take a deep breath and step out of the car. Spencer comes bounding over and, used to our usual greeting, jumps into my arms. I groan and pull him up to my chest, letting him lick the bottom of my chin. Neither Cooper nor Reese seems at all interested in my appearance. They continue talking.

  “So it will stop to the left of the door?” Cooper asks.

  “Yeah. The left looking at it from here. You’ll only need the one bridge.” Reese’s hair is freshly trimmed, and he wears a thick layer of mud around the soles of his shoes. He appears to have confined it to his boots so far today.

  I approach, feeling like the third wheel.

  “Good thinking,” Cooper says. “Don’t want to be tripping over a bridge every time we come in the front door.”

  I don’t miss the we.

  “Hey,” I say. The guys finally look over at me. They both smile, and my heart skips a beat. Everything about this picture is wrong. “What’s going on?”

  “I just stopped to grab a few things.” Cooper sneaks a glance at Reese. “You know, the extra pair of shoes for the office.”

  “Right,” I say. So he is still playing that game. Against my better judgment, I follow Cooper’s lead and don’t ask him in front of Reese why he’s checking on the landscaping while he’s here.

  Cooper furrows his brow. “You’re getting your shirt dirty,” he says, and points at the dusty Spencer in my arms. His tone is more surprised than concerned. I look down at my chest, set Spencer back down and noncommittally brush myself off. Cooper looks at me expectantly, but I plaster on a fake smile.

  “The shoes?” I ask him, barely hiding my sarcasm.

  “Right,” he says. To Reese, “I’ll catch up with you later.”

  “Sure.” They clasp hands, then I follow Cooper into the house, Spencer trailing behind us. I cast a glance over my shoulder at Reese. His arms are crossed over his chest. He wears a grin, eyeing my shirt. I’ve gotten used to a little dirt, and he thinks he’s climbed Mount Everest or something. I roll my eyes and hear his chuckle as I close the door.

  Inside, I follow Cooper to the bedroom but stop short of entering the walk-in closet with him.

  “Do you mind if I borrow this suitcase?” he asks, like we’re picking up right where we left off.

  I respond with the obvious question. “What the hell are you doing here, Cooper?”

  “What?” Cooper asks, emerging from the closet with my carry-on luggage and a pair of tennis shoes.

  “Don’t ‘what’ me,” I say. “You can’t just keep showing up here. You don’t live here anymore. It’s been weeks. Haven’t you found a place yet? A place you can take all your things to?”

  The pain of discovering his discarded book has been bubbling up inside me, and after hearing him talk to Reese as if he didn’t break my heart, it’s boiling over.

  He glances at the bed and stops. “Nice bedspread.”

  “Oh.” My cheeks warm from being caught attempting to exorcise him from the house. “It’s just...”

  His eyebrows dip low over his eyes, but he quickly erases the expression. He heaves the suitcase onto the bed and places his shoes in it, returning to the closet. My embarrassment recedes as I recall his conversation with Reese.

  “What was with the ‘we’?” I ask him.

  He comes out again with two more pairs in hand.

  “What ‘we’?”

  “When you were talking to Reese. You said you didn’t want us tripping over a bridge every time we came in the front door.”

  “Oh. Well, you know.” He shrugs.

  “No, I don’t know.” Actually, I’m sure I do, but I want to hear him say it. He’s ashamed of what he did, and he doesn’t want anyone to know. He’s taking the coward’s way out, and I want him to admit it.

  Cooper busies himself arranging his shoes in the bag like a 3-D puzzle. “I don’t think it’s his business, okay? Besides, it’s probably not safe for him to know you’re here alone every night without a neighbor for half a mile in any direction.”

  I think about Reese coming into the house last week. If only Cooper knew how far from being a stranger Reese actually is, I’m sure he’d have a lot more to say about the subject. But to use Cooper’s words, my friendship with Reese—and my safety for that matter—is not his business.

  “What about your sister?” I ask. “Why didn’t Megan know when I saw her last?”

  “I’ll tell them in my own time, okay?” he says gruffly. “Besides, Megan’s been too busy to see me. That’s not exactly something you tell someone over the phone.”

  “Wait. Do you mean your parents still don’t know either?”

  “Oh, c’mon, Dylan. Don’t act like I’m the only one who has secrets.”

  “What the hell is that supposed to mean?”

  He stops packing and looks at me. I purse my lips and stare him down.

  “When did you see Megan?” he asks, throwing the accusing glare back at me.

  “I...” My mouth goes dry as I search for an excuse.

  “Look, whatever, Dylan. I’m having a shitty day, okay?” He resumes packing, throwing the shoes in haphazardly. “I had to send one of my kids to the hospital, and the only pair of shoes I took with me are giving me blisters. Will you lay off?”

  I drop my hands from my hips, startled. I’ve never seen this side of Cooper. No matter how angry he would get at me during our relationship, he hardly ever raised his voice. He seems to realize this, too. He closes his eyes and pinches the bridge of his nose. Maybe I should feel sympathetic, but along with everything else, Cooper gave up the right to take his shitty days out on me.

  “If you didn’t want to hear it, you shouldn’t have come here,” I say.

  “Goddamn it, Dylan. Do you ever think about anyone but
yourself?” He throws the last pair of shoes into the bag with so much force, one of them jumps back out and lands with a thud on the floor.

  “I’m selfish? I’m selfish?” I hiss through my teeth.

  He picks up the shoe and puts it in the bag. “Never mind. Forget I said it.”

  I cross my arms. “No. You clearly have something to say. Say it.”

  “Just drop it, Dylan. For once, let it go.”

  “No.”

  The muscles in his jaw ripple, biting back his anger. I want to see him angry. I want him to be honest for once, instead of speaking in code and passive-aggressive acts.

  “You want to go there?” he asks, daring me.

  “Yes! Tell me what made me such a bad girlfriend that I drove you into the arms of another woman.”

  “This, for one,” he yells back at me. “You turn everything into a fight. You are so ready to disappoint me. You’ve been doing it since the night we met. You can’t stand the idea that you might not be perfect, so you keep me at arm’s length, so I won’t see your flaws. Well, guess what? We were together for nine fucking years, and I saw them all. And I still love you.”

  My chest heaves and my heart pounds. I want to scream at him, and his response only makes me madder.

  Love? Present tense?

  “You wanted to know why I did it,” he goes on, before I can say anything, both of us very clear on what it he’s talking about. “Here it is. I felt like I was living with a stranger.”

  I snap my mouth shut. Cooper’s eyes are wide like I’ve never seen them before, and I know he’s trying to hurt me with this...but I can also see the truth in it.

  “You were never here,” he goes on. “And when you were, you were asleep, or in another room, or taking phone calls from the hospital, or reading. Anything but spending time with me. And don’t think I don’t know you have secrets of your own. I didn’t push because I knew you would tell me if it was something important, and I didn’t think it would affect our relationship. Clearly I was wrong on both counts.”

  He raises his eyebrows, daring me to argue. I can’t.

  “And when we had sex... Damn it.” He lowers his voice. “When we made love, I didn’t know where you were anymore.”

  His eyes are locked with mine, judging my reaction to his words.

  “Was she there?” I bite out. “Did you connect with her?”

  “See,” he says and throws his hands up. “I can’t get anywhere with you.”

  He zips up his bag and stares at it for a long moment, neither of us able to speak. We’ve already said too much. I realize maybe I have pushed things too far. Maybe I didn’t want to hear his side, because it would bring me to this moment: facing the ugly truth. I’ve always known I was keeping Cooper at a distance, but I hoped he didn’t notice. I hoped we could somehow work around it.

  But it’s getting harder and harder to place the demise of our relationship solely on his shoulders. It’s getting harder and harder to justify my defenses.

  This isn’t what Abby would have wanted for me.

  “You left your book,” I tell Cooper. I break free from the tension holding us in our places. I pass Cooper, and without a single movement, I can feel him wanting to reach out to touch me. I don’t slow my pace for fear that he’ll go through with it. I’m too confused already. I grab the book from the kitchen counter, but as I turn back, Cooper emerges from the bedroom, his head down.

  “Keep it,” he says, not looking at me. He crosses the living room in a few quick strides, then slams the front door behind him.

  * * *

  Later that week, I come home after work to catch Reese coming up the path from the creek. He comes straight up to me with a curious smile that immediately sets my nerves on edge. His green eyes are alight, apparently not holding a grudge against me for confronting him about our missed plans or for having to rescue my dinner. I, on the other hand, have not forgotten, and my cheeks burn in embarrassment, having fallen apart in front of him and because of him. He only committed to bringing a little beauty back into my busy life. He didn’t commit to being my friend.

  “If I asked you to do something, could you trust me and go along with it?” he asks. Spencer circles us, snapping at air. He’s been happier spending the mornings outside with space to roam.

  I tuck a loose strand of hair behind my ear. “Do I have a choice?” I ask.

  He purses his lips together to suppress a grin. The wind rustles his hair, styled in such a way that it never falls from its perfectly messy tousle, no matter how hot it is or how hard he works.

  “I’m serious, Dylan.”

  “Maybe,” I say. “You have to tell me what it is first.”

  “Can you stay away from the creek for a while? Stay up here?”

  “But that’s my favorite spot.”

  “You’re going to have to trust me.”

  Trust is a lot to ask of someone you hardly know, is my first thought. Then I wonder if that’s true anymore. Working side by side with someone on a shared mission has a way of connecting people, whether they realize it or not.

  “Okay,” I say.

  Reese puts his hands on my arms below my sleeves so he’s touching my skin, and while instinct tells me to step away, he has me in his grip.

  “Thank you,” he says. I never noticed how infrequently people look directly at the person they’re talking to until I met Reese. It seems to be the only way he communicates—straightforward, no filters.

  When he lets me go, he leaves traces of soil on my arms. I don’t brush it off.

  “So are you going to help me line the flower beds?” he asks. He motions toward them, and my stomach clenches at the reminder of my foolish anger. I’m surprised to hear he plans to keep working today. He should have been gone an hour ago.

  “I don’t think that’s a good idea,” I say. The line between our professional and personal relationship is blurry enough. It’s probably inappropriate, but that’s a hard factor to determine out here, with no one else to gauge it against.

  “Really?” he asks.

  “I’m really not good at this kind of thing,” I admit. “It’s better for both of us if I just stay out of your way.”

  “What kind of thing?”

  “I don’t know. People.” What I’m thinking but don’t say: Relationships are a minefield. And I’m not agile enough to navigate them.

  He shakes his head. “Dylan, I don’t know what you’re talking about, but you don’t have anything to worry about with me. We’re good,” he says. I turn my face away from him. He bends down to look at me. “Do you want to tell me what’s really bothering you?”

  I shake my head. I’ve made a habit of not talking to him about Cooper. It feels safer that way—a clear boundary.

  He smirks. “Okay. How about you tell me anyway?”

  I sigh. It’s not only my fight with Cooper that’s on my mind.

  “I’m supposed to be working on my grant application,” I say. “But I have no idea what I’m doing. I thought I knew what my boss wanted from me, but I’ve been wrong before.”

  He frowns. “I know it’s important to you. I’m sure you’ll figure it out.”

  I scoff. “I hate it when people act confident in things they have no control over.”

  There are doctors at the hospital like that, who expect everything to go smoothly in the delivery room each time. I don’t take probability for granted, and I don’t take hopes to the bank.

  “Don’t you believe in the Universe?” Reese asks.

  “What? You mean like God?”

  “I mean cause and effect. Karma. Reaping what you sow. What goes around, comes around. You’ve done a lot of good things in your life, Dylan. Right?”

  “I don’t know. I’d like to think so.” With the exception of
one very big mistake.

  “I know your intentions are good. I know you want this for more than yourself. You’ll get the grant,” he says. “You’ve put it out there, and the Universe is going to give it back to you. It’s just waiting on you.”

  “Waiting for what?” I ask. I genuinely want to know. I’m tired of putting everything on the line for a dream that keeps eluding me.

  “You tell me,” he says. I wait for him to continue with today’s words of wisdom, but he doesn’t. When I don’t respond, he asks, “Is that why you and Dr. Caldwell broke up?”

  There it is. I knew it would come up eventually.

  I shrug. “We were both so busy we didn’t have time for each other. Anyone would grow apart under those circumstances.” It feels like too big an admission to tell him the whole truth. I don’t want to know what he thinks it means in the grand scheme of things. I don’t want him to ask me what role I might have played in Cooper’s infidelity.

  He gives me a break from the inquisition, and I pace quietly for a few minutes, but the tension is too much to take. He’s playing my card—silence.

  “I don’t know why we broke up, Reese. I don’t have everything figured out. I never said I did.”

  “I know.” He stands there, unfazed by my irritation with him, as he is with everything. I hate the way he seems to have so few cares in the world. It’s so easy for him to judge me. “Come here,” he finally says and reaches a hand out to me. I stare at it for a moment before I finally take it. I fight against the messages my fingertips are telling me as he leads me over to an open patch of grass and encourages me to sit down. He sits next to me, shoulder to shoulder, and we look up at the trees, our knees bent. Spencer jumps into Reese’s lap and nips at his chin, but with a few simple caresses, Reese calms him.

  He finally says, “Let’s refocus here. I think we both know it isn’t really about Dr. Caldwell.” The assumption jars me, but I don’t have time to correct him before he barrels on. “Tell me why you love your job. And I’m not talking about why you started doing it or what you think you need to accomplish. On a day-to-day basis, what keeps you going back to the hospital?”