Captive Hearts

by Harper Bliss

  “Tessie, hon, I told you before. Sometimes patience is all you’ve got.” We’re sitting on Megan’s porch, watching Scott explain to the boys how to run a route.

  “But for how much longer?” I know I sound like a petulant child. “For all I know, she may never be ready. I have no clue. We’ve been spending all this time together, and we have this energy between us, for sure. But I don’t really know that much about her. I’ve told her as much as I can about me—”

  “That’s ’cause you’re an open book. You couldn’t keep your mouth shut to save your life.”

  “That’s not the point. I like her. I really really like her. To the point that my first thought when I wake up is whether I will see her today and, if not, how I can make it so that I do.”

  “Christ. You’ve got it good, girl.”

  “I know. A bit more every day. And all I do is wait, wait, wait. For her to make a first move. But she never does. And it’s driving me nuts.”

  “Here.” Megan pours me some more wine. “This should help.”

  “I really shouldn’t. I must be over the limit already.” But the glass is already touching my lips. I drink and let the cool liquid ease some of my anguish. “Should I tell her how I feel?” I ask my sister.

  She inhales deeply, exhales slowly. Admittedly, it’s a question that needs some pondering. “Think about the consequences if you do.”

  “Best case scenario,” I sit up a bit straighter, liking where I’m going with this, “she has been waiting for me to make another move.” My posture deflates when I think about the worst case scenario. “But, most likely, she’ll just blow me off again.”

  “One way of looking at it is that you’re friends now. Is your friendship strong enough to withstand an amorous confession and possible rejection?” Megan plays devil’s advocate.

  “But the other way of looking at it is whether I’m strong enough to keep on being her pining friend.”

  “I know it’s not your style, but maybe you should start by dropping some subtle hints,” Megan offers.

  “That’s all I do. More often than not, our conversation turns flirty. Not overly so, but enough for me to know that there’s something there. That I’m not imagining things. A woman knows, you know? And I know that Laura is not oblivious to my charms. I just know it. I just don’t know what to do about it.”

  “Trust your gut, Tess.” Megan lifts her glass. I do the same.

  “Maybe I will.” I take a nice hefty gulp. “What have I got to lose?”

  * * *

  When I leave Megan and Scott’s house after nine, I’m well past the limit, but the ranch is only a mile away and Megan lets me borrow her bicycle. I plan to cycle straight home until an idea sparks in my head.

  I’m a little tipsy, which, I conclude, should give me the exact amount of courage to tell Laura how I feel and a cushion to soften the blow if she responds negatively. Here I go, I think, as my hair flaps in the faint evening breeze. Here I go to tell Laura I love her. I start to hum the song. Riding a bicycle along the small town roads like this in the evening, when there’s hardly anyone around, reminds me of when I was younger. Still the same streets, still the same town, I muse, as I turn into Laura’s street, fervently hoping she’ll still have a light on. I hardly think she’ll want to be woken up for my news.

  A faint yellow glow comes from the front window, so I ring the bell. It takes a while for Laura to come to the door. When she does, her hair is all awry and she’s wearing a pair of pajama bottoms and one of her brand new-looking white t-shirts.

  “Tess?”

  “The one and only,” I joke, and realize I might be a little bit more than tipsy. “I hope I didn’t wake you.”

  “I dozed off in front of the TV. What’s up? Is something wrong?” Worry washes over Laura’s face.

  “Not at all. I know it’s late, but can I come in, please?”

  Laura opens the door and steps aside. “Are you sure you’re all right? You look a bit off.”

  “I just need to tell you something. I’ve tried… I’ve really tried to keep it in, but I can’t do it any longer.” I stumble into the living room.

  “Tess, come on. Just sit down for a minute. I’ll get you some water.” Laura takes me by the arm and leads me to the sofa. Half of it is covered by a bunch of pillows and a crumpled up blanket.

  “I don’t want water, Laura,” I blurt out. “I want you.”

  Laura ignores what I just said and goes into the kitchen. A few long seconds later she returns with a tall glass of water in her hands.

  “Drink this. I believe you may have had a bit too much.” She shoves the glass into my hands and, when our fingers touch, I just want to keep holding on to her.

  I take a few reluctant sips, then put it aside. “I’ve come to tell you something important.”

  “Tess,” Laura crouches next to me, “don’t say things you’ll regret in the morning.” She puts a hand on my knee and it’s all I need to bring this home. “How did you get here? I hope you didn’t drive,” Laura says before I can launch into my love confession.

  “I rode a bicycle,” I announce triumphantly.

  “Good. Why don’t you have some more water and I’ll drive you home, okay?”

  “Laura, listen to me. I came here for a reason.”

  “So I gathered.” Laura pushes herself up from her crouch and moves to the sofa.

  I turn a little so I can look her straight in the eyes. This is no time for averted glances.

  “We’ve been having such a good time together. And I don’t want to jeopardize our friendship at all. If you say you need more time, then I’ll wait, but I just need to know, Laura, please, am I ever going to have a chance with you? Because I want to… you know. I want to date you. I want to be with you. More and more every day. I just need to know.” Saying the words out loud has strangely robbed me of my positive energy. Or perhaps it’s the look on Laura’s face.

  “Listen to me.” Laura’s tone is much more severe than I want it to be. “We’re not going to talk about this now. It’s late. You’re drunk.”

  “Just tell me. Should I keep my hopes up or not? Because it’s hard. Every time we say goodbye, I feel so elated at first… Because I know we are so good together. As friends, yes, I know.” I hold up my hand. “But I want to be more than friends. I want you. And maybe that makes me foolish, but frankly, I don’t see why it would.”

  Laura sighs heavily. “Tess, you’re babbling. Come on.” She gets up. “I promise we will continue this conversation tomorrow. You’ll need to come pick up your bike. But now, you need to go home.”

  Laura towers over me, her face not exactly open and inviting.

  “I’m sorry if this is not what you wanted to hear, but I just really needed to say it.” I stand up swiftly, only to stagger backward a little when I do.

  She catches me by the elbow and takes the opportunity to lead me outside. She holds my arm all the way to her car, while she unlocks it, then gently coaxes me into the passenger seat.

  On the drive to the ranch, I’ve run out of words—the adrenaline of actually telling her worn off. Laura doesn’t say anything either. She just pulls in to the driveway. Tells me to stay seated, and walks around the car to open the door for me.

  “Good night, Tess,” she says. “Stop by tomorrow.”

  “I will.” I flee from her gaze and hurry inside.

  Thirteen

  Laura

  While Tess showing up on my doorstep was unexpected, the things she said certainly weren’t. We’ve been growing closer, and I’ve let her in more, let her see more of myself than I wanted to. Because she has that effect on me. When she comes over tomorrow, I won’t have a choice. I can’t send her away again with the same old excuse that I need more time. I’ll need to tell her, so she can move on. I can’t keep it to myself forever. When I’m with her, I can already feel it becoming a secret too big to bear for just me. Like a tumor expanding in my gut, conquering more and more healthy tissue. That
’s what it feels like.

  I hardly sleep a wink, but conclude that might not be a bad thing. Looking tired and worn down might make it easier for Tess when I, inevitably, tell her we can’t be together the way she wants us to. It’s not that I haven’t thought about it. I’ve even allowed myself the frivolity of entertaining the possibility. Which won’t make this any easier.

  When Tess rings my bell just before noon, a box of donuts in her hand, she says, “I come bearing gifts. I know these won’t make up for my appalling, drunken behavior from last night, but it’s a good start.”

  I let her in and take her to the patio at the back of the house. I pour us both some tea and take one of the donuts to be polite, but nerves are tearing up my stomach and there’s no way I can actually eat one.

  “I’m so sorry, Laura. I’m so ashamed. You have no idea,” Tess says. Though her voice sounds chirpy and she delivers the words with confidence, she can barely look me in the eyes.

  “It’s okay. Like you said last night: it was something that needed to be said.”

  “You don’t owe me any explanations,” Tess insists. “Just because I came knocking on your door boiling over with feelings and too much wine in my system. It was my bad.”

  “No, Tess. I think it’s important that I answer your question.” I stare at my donut—a bear claw. “When you asked me if you should keep your hopes up about us? I think I do owe you an answer to that.”

  “Is it going to be an answer I don’t want to hear?” Tess asks in a small voice.

  “I’m afraid so. But I’m going to explain to you why… I can’t be with you and then I hope you will understand.”

  Tess drops her pink-glazed donut on the table and stares ahead. “Okay.”

  “I haven’t told this to anyone and I need you to promise me that what I’m about to say stays between us. I don’t want anyone else to know.” I inject some harshness into my tone, but by now I know what Tess and her sister are like and I need to be sure.

  “I promise.” Tess looks at me now.

  “The reason I won’t be ready for a relationship any time soon, if ever, is because my wife died ten months ago and… I killed her.” My stomach is turning to mush and bile rises to the back of my throat. “It was an accident. More like self-defense. No charges were brought against me, but the fact remains that another human being died because of something I did. And that’s something very, very hard to live with.”

  “Jesus.” Tess’s mouth has fallen open slightly. “I’m so sorry.”

  “We’d been married a bit longer than a year,” I continue. If I don’t get it all out quickly, I fear I’ll have to keep it inside of me forever. “I’d gone out with my best friend Rachel. We’d had a few drinks. I came home and Tracy was in one of her moods. She accused me of drinking too much. Of talking about her behind her back with Rachel. And she started coming for me again… fist drawn. A sight I’d seen one too many times by then. Perhaps because I had been drinking, I pushed her away from me before she had the chance to land a blow. It was just a little shove. But she lost her footing, fell, and landed with her head against the coffee table. A solid marble one. Next thing I know, she’s not moving and there’s a pool of blood on the carpet. The EMT said she would have been dead instantly. As soon as her skull hit the table.” I’ve rambled off the words like they were a story I needed to reproduce for an exam. No emotion in my voice. But tears stream down my face and my hands tremble in my lap. “I killed my wife.”

  “It was an accident,” Tess says, her voice shaking.

  “I didn’t manage to pick my life back up in Chicago. The only person who knew how abusive Tracy could get was Rachel. Everyone else, her family, our friends, they believed it was a spousal argument gone wrong. Which it was. But they blamed me. And I was… am to blame, of course. I did it. I pushed her and caused her death. Which was hard enough to live with already, but all the blame, the hushed voices when I walked into a room, the scolding glances. I had to get away from there. So I came here to start over.”

  “Jesus, Laura. That must have been hell.” Tess plants her elbows on the table. When I shoot her a furtive glance, I can see her eyes are misty too.

  “It was. It still is.” I wipe some snot from under my nose. “I ran away from everything.”

  “Laura…” Tess’s voice is just a whisper. “She abused you?”

  Slowly, I nod. It took a long time before I was able to admit that to myself. “After we got married, something changed. Tracy was always a bit proprietary, a bit possessive and jealous, but she was also funny, terribly sweet at times, unbelievably charming. Dazzling smile. Promising career. She was an architect with one of Chicago’s biggest firms. I couldn’t believe my luck when she showed interest in me the first time. She wooed me and courted me like there was no tomorrow. I fell for all of it. Until I met the real Tracy Hunt.” I manage a small smile. Although the situation isn’t very smile-worthy, I feel like if I can smile through this, I can smile through anything. “Then it was too late. I told myself all the regular things after one of her violent outbursts. Classic victim behavior. This was the last time. Next time she lays a finger on me I’ll leave. But I never did. I lived a life ruled by fear and every day of being with her, of loving this person who hurt me, chipped away a bit further at my self-esteem. And, you know… I ask myself the question again and again. When I pushed her, what really was my intention?”

  “Oh God, Laura. I can’t possibly imagine what you’ve been through, what you’re still going through. But please don’t blame yourself. You were the victim.”

  “If only I could say, with my hand on my heart, that, in some of my worst moments, I hadn’t wished her dead.” I burst into tears again. I haven’t cried like this since leaving Chicago.

  “It was self-defense.” Tess rushes out of her chair. Comes to stand next to me. “It was an accident.”

  “I know. I know.” I’ve repeated the same words in my head as a mantra for months. “But I still took another person’s life. And I have no idea how to ever forgive myself for that.”

  Tess puts a hand on my arm. “Laura, you are a good person. No matter who or what you believe you are, I know that much.”

  I look at Tess’s hand on my arm. I inhale deeply, trying to stop the tears. I wipe some of them away with the sleeve of my sweater. “I really think you should find someone else to have a crush on.”

  Tess’s eyes are all kindness, her face radiating nothing but understanding. “Do you think I get to choose?”

  “You’re wonderful. I thank my lucky stars every day for meeting you. That of all the towns I could have ended up in, I ended up in Nelson. Your town. But I won’t ask the impossible of you. I’m the very definition of damaged goods. I have no clue how to ever trust someone, let alone love someone again. You can’t wait for me. I’ll be your friend. If that’s what you want. Though I’ll understand if it’s too hard. But for the foreseeable future, you and I simply can’t be together.”

  Her grasp on my arm intensifies. “I’m not going anywhere, Laura. Do you really think I would choose not to be friends with you anymore after what you’ve just confided in me?”

  “Not for a second.” The smile I give now is more hopeful. “I can be your wing woman when you want to go out some time,” I half-joke.

  “Oh yeah? And where would we go? Sam’s Bar?”

  “Why not?” I’m just making conversation to make time pass between what I said before and what I’m saying now. Between the difficult and the mundane. “There’s dancing there. You never know who might come along and sweep you off your feet one night.”

  “Laura.” Tess sits on her haunches and brings her face level with mine. “Any time you need me. Any time you want to talk. I’ll be there. I really need you to understand that. Forget about what I said last night, okay? I refuse to play the martyr because of how I feel about you. I’m a grown woman. I can take it. We’re friends. And I want you to know you can always count on me and I will never expect anything in
return.”

  “I believe you.” I feel more tears welling up behind my eyes. These ones are not born from raking up the past, but from looking at the future. From the sliver of hope that Tess’s presence in my life represents. In my own way, I’ve grown to love her too—as best as I can, however stunted that may be. “Thank you.”

  Tess pushes herself up and plants a tender kiss on the top of my head. A gesture that moves me more than any I’ve encountered since Tracy died. Tess and I might not be destined for coupledom, but our friendship has definitely breached new ground.

  Fourteen

  Tess

  “So Laura doesn’t want to be with you, but you don’t want to tell me why?” Megan asks. We’re sitting on the front porch of the ranch. Inside, Dad is reading stories to Emma, and Mom is making cupcakes with the boys.

  “I can’t tell you. Please don’t make a big deal about it.” Truth be told, I have to bite my tongue. Megan and I have shared all our secrets since we learned how to speak. Every time something noteworthy has happened to me, my sister has always been the person I called first. She’s my sounding board. My voice of reason—most of the time. In many ways, my other half.

  “And you’ve suddenly, magically, accepted that your love for her won’t stand in the way of your friendship?”

  “Love for whom?” Mom comes out of the house and starts butting in.

  “Weren’t you making cupcakes with Max and Toby?” I ask.

  “Can’t mix them forever, hon. They’re in the oven now.” Mom sits at the table with us and pours herself a glass of iced tea. “They’ll be ready in not too long.”

  “We were having a private conversation, Mom,” Megan says in the whiny voice she used when she was a teenager.

  “What are you saying? That in my own house I can’t sit down where I please to have some iced tea? Gosh dang. You two are such princesses.” She doesn’t budge. “It’s not as if I don’t know who you’re talking about. I’m not blind and I’m not deaf. And I think Laura and Tess would make a dashing couple.”