“I know he’s broken your heart. I get it.”
“No, you don’t,” I laugh angrily. “You don’t have any clue how deep my scars go.”
Jiggs scans my face, trying to see what I mean. He quirks a brow. “I’ll listen if you want to tell me.”
“I don’t.”
Rolling his eyes, his jaw pulls tight. “The two of you are going to be the death of me.”
My heart breaks, but I say the words anyway. “I’m not sure there is a ‘two of us’ anymore.”
We watch each other, a sadness in the room that’s almost as thick as it was the day our parents passed away.
“Jiggs, I’m just . . . I’m really, really tired of this,” I say through the strangle in my throat. “I’m tired of being sad and I’m tired of hoping he’ll come back. Him bringing me home wasn’t him coming back. That was him being jealous and while it’s entertaining and I might even enjoy that a little bit, it’s not us being together,” I sniffle.
Jiggs rises from the couch but doesn’t come towards me. He just stands, shoulders slumped, almost as saddened by this as I am. “When did it get this bad between you two?”
Walking to the mantle, I pick up the picture of us. I trace his jawline with my finger. “I can’t even remember. He was fine after the accident. At first, anyway. Then everything folded on top of itself. I think he got depressed. I know I felt pressure to take care of it all. He received unemployment, but no insurance payout and no overtime. Things got so tight. So I had the infertility money we’d been putting back . . .”
“Ah, Sis.”
“It just started feeling like this black hole, Jiggs. Like everything was shit and we both felt that. There was nothing to look forward to anymore.”
My brother lets out a sigh, his hands clasping in front of him. “I knew he’d withdrawn some. When he put in his resignation from the team, I came over. Asked what was up and he just said he couldn’t do it anymore. I knew that was bullshit because those kids were his everything. But the harder I pushed, the more he refused to talk.”
“Dustin would come by,” I say, my throat tight. “It didn’t help. I didn’t know what to do. I just kept thinking if we could have a baby, that would shine some light on this. Give us something to come together about. Instead, it caused even more stress, and then I had to use the money to live and then I found out he was taking some of it too . . .”
“The perfect storm.”
“Yeah.” Shaking my head, the fatigue of the situation drops hard. I sit the picture on the mantle. “Maybe we grew apart. That happens.”
My voice breaks and as my eyes fill, my entire body begins to shake. Jiggs crosses the room and brings me into a hug just as my heart starts to splinter.
“I feel like I’ve just waited on a day when I would wake up and this would all be some joke, some nightmare. But it’s not, Jiggs. This is real. And it’s time I accept that. It’s time I accept that so much has happened between us that can’t be repaired.”
I shake as I admit out loud, for the first time, what I know is the truth. My marriage is over.
TY
“I haven’t seen you around here in a while,” Melissa, the girl that works at Sullivan’s most afternoons drawls, giving me a flirty smile as she takes my money. “Where’ve you been, handsome?”
“Around.”
“I’ve missed that smile of yours.”
I place a candy bar on the counter.
“No chew today?” she asks, obviously proud of herself for remembering what I usually get every afternoon.
“Nah, I quit.” I don’t go into the explanation that I really don’t chew it anyway, that it’s some kind of habit that I’ve had since I was a teenager—buying the can, sticking it in my pocket, then giving it to some poor bastard that asks if he can borrow some.
“You coaching again?” she asks, not missing a beat. “We need you. The newspapers from Indianapolis say we have a chance at a state title this year.”
I shrug, ignoring the little bud of pride that unfolds in my stomach. “They’re a good group of boys,” I concede. “They can do big things this year. Reynolds will have them ready.”
“I guess. We’ll miss you on the court.” She hands me my receipt. “Don’t be a stranger, Ty.”
I take my change and ignore her invitation that didn’t have to be spoken. Swiping my candy off the counter, I walk out. The sun is bright, despite the ominous clouds rolling in from the west. Squinting, I take a sip of my drink and make my way to my truck. I look up when I hear the distinct roar of Cord’s diesel.
He bursts through the parking lot of Sullivan’s and slides his truck in beside mine, the tires squealing as they lock in place. Flicking off the ignition, he grins. “Hey.”
“Hey.” I stop at the bed to give Yogi a scratch behind his ears. “What are you doin’?”
“Not much. Was taking Yogi out to Busseron Creek before this storm hits, maybe do a little fishing. I thought I’d swing in and see if you wanna go?”
I shrug. “Nah, thanks for the offer though.”
“You got something better to do?”
“Not really.” I look at my friend and laugh. “Wanna tell me what you said to Pettis last night?”
He smirks, trying to stifle a laugh. “I just properly advised him of his rights.”
“His rights?”
“Yeah, his rights.” He pulls off his hat and roughs his hand through his hair. “His rights to life, liberty, and the pursuit of happiness. I explained those were his Constitutional rights. However, those don’t apply to dead men and if he is seen anywhere near Elin Whitt again, I’m afraid his rights would be terminated.”
My laugh triggers glances from the patrons pumping gas a few feet away. “That’s gold.”
“That’s fact,” he grins. “Now, what are you up to? I haven’t seen you at home all day. Was kind of hoping you were with Elin.”
I kick a rock and watch it roll across the pavement. I don’t know what I expected to feel like today; I guess I didn’t give it much thought. I just reacted last night when I saw Elin with Pettis, and now I’m paying the price.
She’s all I think about every day, but it’s been worse since I slipped out of our house this morning. This time, when I left, I looked back. This morning, I hesitated, nearly walked back inside a handful of times before I forced myself in the truck and down the driveway. Even then, my eyes were on the rearview mirror.
Cord tilts his head, a smirk dragging across his lips. “Wanna tell me what happened when you took your wifey home?”
“Nope.”
“I figured as much. Even if you had managed to try to say something to her, she would’ve been too out of it to remember.”
“Come to think of it, that was the perfect time to talk to her about everything. Shit.”
“Missed opportunity,” he grins. “Things will work out. I feel it in my bones.”
“Nobody wants to hear about your bones, McCurry.”
He hops out of his truck and stands next to me. Pulling his Arrows hat down as the wind gust rips through the parking lot, he winces. “Damn, that’s cold.”
“They were talking about it in there,” I say, flinching as the cold goes right through me. “Said it’s gonna be a helluva storm coming through here in a bit.”
“Guess that means no fishin’. Better grab what I need and get home.”
“Got someone waiting on you?” I ask, even though I know the answer. Cord doesn’t get close to people. He’s friendly with Jiggs and I and our wives, but that’s the closest he’s ever gotten with anyone. He’s dated here and there, but never anything meaningful. The few girls he’s brought around us over the past few years he intentionally keeps some barrier between them. You can almost see it.
He’s cool about it. All the girls he dates, if you call it that, remain his friends afterwards. Everyone loves Cord McCurry. Cord just doesn’t necessarily love them back by design.
“Nah,” he grins as Yogi licks his face. “
This is my girl. My one and only.”
“That’s sad, Cord,” I laugh.
“Sad but true,” he says, locking his truck. “I’m not built like you. I don’t have some part of me that women can relate to.”
“Bullshit.”
He shrugs, a faint frown tickling across his lips. “Maybe, maybe not. Either way, we’re gonna get blown away if we stand here much longer.” He claps me on the shoulder and heads inside. “I’ll pick up some frozen pizzas and cold beer. How’s that sound for dinner?”
“Good as anything.” I climb in my truck and back out of the parking lot. The wind shoves me all over the road, the sun now hidden behind a steely set of clouds that move so quickly across the sky it’s like they’re on fast forward. “Shit,” I say, dodging a tree limb that flies in front of me as rain begins to pelt my windshield.
My phone buzzes in my pocket, and I pull it out to see a severe weather warning encouraging everyone to take shelter. As my truck is pushed into the other lane by a crazy gust of wind, I make a quick right and head towards Cord’s.
ELIN
Alcohol helps you make bad decisions.
Nearly twenty-four hours after my little drinking party, I’m still making them hand-over-fist.
Curled up on my bed, e-reader to my right, phone to my left, I have blankets tucked around me. A candle flickers on my nightstand just in case the power, which is blinking like a disco ball because of the storm, goes out. And on my body, all soft and wrinkled, is Ty’s old Tennessee Arrows t-shirt.
Not once since he left have I done this. There hasn’t been a single instance where I’ve become that girl, the one that wraps herself in his clothes and tries to find the scent of his cologne buried somewhere in the fibers of the fabric. I’ve managed to maintain my dignity, never stooping to that level. Until tonight.
I blame it on the alcohol.
I’m hungover, both on the beer and on the emotions of the day. Time had granted me the small luxury of choice and I chose anger. It was the easiest to handle. But after seeing him three times in as many days and having to deal with him seeing me and touching me and God knows what else, things I still can’t remember, it’s like a hurricane came in and whipped all my feelings together, spilling them into one giant, confusing heap.
His shirt helps. I don’t know why, but it does, and even more disturbing is that I don’t feel weak because of it. Maybe it’s because I made the choice to put it on. I wasn’t crying when I did it. I wasn’t grieving or praying for some kind of direction from the man upstairs. It was a very calm moment after my shower and I saw it hanging in the back of the closet.
My biggest fear is letting my feelings get so mixed up by remembering who we used to be together and not who we are now. The thought of living with him and fighting like we did is unbearable. It’s not us and not the way either of us should want to live, and I’m afraid if I don’t stop this, once and for all, we’ll find ourselves in that very same place. And I can’t handle going through this again.
Thunder cracks outside my bedroom window, making me jump. I snuggle deeper into the pillows and clutch my phone for good measure, wondering why the worst storms happen after midnight.
Storms have always made me feel like a child. I hate the darkness, the unpredictability of the danger associated with them this time of year. I used to stay awake until Ty would come home from work if a storm was particularly bad. We would joke about what would happen when we had a baby and I had to be the grown up.
My heart sinks in my stomach.
Another clap of thunder rings through the air and I shudder. It lasts for a long few seconds and ends with the sound of the back door being rattled.
“Don’t even,” I mutter, swiping a tissue off the nightstand and dabbing it against my eyes. “Don’t mess with me tonight, Mother Nature.”
The rapping sound rolls through the house again in the midst of the tree limbs scratching at the window. Hearing it again, it sounds intentional. Deliberate.
I pull Jiggs’ number up on my phone and uncurl my legs from the blankets. Drawing in a quick breath, I drop my feet to the floor.
The windowsill shakes as the wind assaults it, rocking the old farmhouse to its roots.
The floor is cold against my bare feet as I slip through the room, my thumb hovering over the call button. My breathing echoes off the walls of the hallway, my senses on high alert. Listening closely, I try to hear the knocking sound again but all I can make out is the howling wind.
I round the corner and scream, dropping my phone.
“Elin! It’s me!”
My hand searches frantically for the light switch, and when I finally find it and flip it on, I can’t believe what I’m seeing.
Ty is standing in front of me. His grey t-shirt is soaked all the way through, his jeans pressed against his body from the rain. His hair is smashed to his head and water droplets trickle down his cheeks.
“What in the hell are you doing?” I gasp, my heart speeding out of control.
“I didn’t mean to scare you.”
“Oh really?” I eke out in between gasps, trying to regulate my breathing. “You think you can just walk in here in the middle of the night and I’m going to be expecting you?”
“I hope you’re not expecting another man to be walking in here in the middle of the night,” he says, a gravel to his voice that just incenses me.
Laughing in disbelief, I throw back my shoulders. “I don’t think you have a right to an opinion on who’s coming in here in the middle of the night.”
“My name is still on the mortgage.”
“We can have that fixed.”
We glare at each other, a standoff neither of us wants to lose. This is us, our new roles as combatants.
I bend down to pick up my phone. Standing as tall as my five foot four will allow, I stare at him. “You don’t live here anymore,” I spit, a break to my voice that is just enough that I know it is unmistakable.
He forces a swallow, unfazed by my attack. “Settle down, Elin.”
“Don’t you dare tell me to settle down!”
“I just wanted to make sure you’re okay. I know you hate storms.”
“Really, Ty?” I ask in pure disbelief, my jaw hanging wide. “You wanted to make sure the storms didn’t scare me? How considerate of you.”
“Come on, E,” he sighs.
“No, you come on, Ty. It’s a little ridiculous that after everything, you come waltzing in here acting like a fucking saint over a storm.”
“I was just checking on you.”
“Here I am,” I say, holding my arms out, almost touching either side of the hallway. My chest shakes right along with the quick breaths, but I hope he doesn’t notice. “See me? I’m still here. Doing just fine without you. Not that you probably give a fuck—”
“Are you serious?” he booms. “You think I don’t give a fuck?”
“Do I look serious?” I shout back.
“Of course I give a fuck! Damn it!” He tugs at his hair in frustration. “You have no idea just how much I do give a fuck, Elin. You have no idea.”
“No, I don’t know. And you know something else? I don’t care,” I seethe, lying through my teeth. Because I do care. So much. But I can’t care anymore.
He takes a deep breath and allows the air to settle in his lungs. He starts to speak a few times before catching himself and starting again. “I just wanted to make sure you’re all right. I’m sorry.”
“I’m fine, as you can see. Now you need to go.”
“You look good,” he says softly, ignoring my request.
I should have some sort of compassion for him because he’s obviously trying to play nice. But I don’t allow that soft spot for him because that weakens my strength. And what do I know–maybe he’s just still worried I am with someone else? Maybe he’s been with another woman and wants to come home?
Squaring my shoulders, I lace my arms across my chest. “I am good. No thanks to you.”
His s
houlders slump and his eyes hit the floor. “E . . .”
“Don’t. You have no fucking idea what you’ve done to me.” I see the door to what would’ve been the nursery out of the corner of my eye, and I choke back the lump in my throat. “But let me tell you this,” I say, walking close enough to him to poke him in the chest, letting my pain drive me, “I. Am. Still. Here. And all you’ve done is proven that I can live without you.”
His eyes draw slowly to mine. “I’ve proven I can’t live without you.”
“Don’t even say that to me,” I gruff, tears tickling the corners of my eyes. His words, coupled with the look on his face, would break me if I let them. “You don’t have the right to say those things to me! This was a marriage—” I yell, as he cuts me off.
“It is a marriage—”
My hand shakes as I glare at him, pointing my finger at his face. “No, it was a marriage, Ty, and you walked out.”
“You told me to!”
“Yes, I did,” I say, biting back the memories flooding my mind. “But I didn’t mean it. I just said it in the heat of the moment and you took full advantage.”
His eyes narrow, his jaw ticking, but he doesn’t respond. He just stands there looking at me like he doesn’t know where to start.
“A marriage isn’t something you can just come and go from as you please. You ruined this. Not me.” My voice is steadier than I anticipated and it gives me some courage.
“You’re right,” he says carefully, his Adam’s apple bobbing in his throat. “I ruined it and I will fix it.”
“That would mean I want it fixed.”
The hallway closes in on us, the air between us hot and thick. We just stare at each other, feeling each other out.
“You have no idea—”
“No!” I yell, my hand going back into the center of his chest. It’s wet and hard and feels so familiar. “You have no idea what you’ve done to me. To us!”
His hand wraps around my wrist and my breath escapes in a smooth gasp. The contact, skin-to-skin, is not something I’m prepared for.
It’s not fair.
Bending down so his face is inches from mine, he says, “To us. Because it’s still us, E.”
Written in the Scars Page 7