All of You

by Lindsay Detwiler

  “I hope so,” Joe agrees cryptically, and Marley just shakes her head, urging everyone to take a cookie as we settle in for more stories, more laughter, and more realizations this is what life is all about.

  Chapter Nineteen

  Marley

  Finishing my latest poem during break, I close the pages of my journal as I scurry back inside to help Louise. The weather is chilling, but I still like to sit in my spot. It’s where I get my writing mojo. Ever since the night Alex made me share my poetry, my journal’s now busting with poems about so many different things.

  And the best news? I actually like them. I actually can see them in a poetry collection someday, my name on the cover.

  I’ve been back to Delilah’s once, Alex by my side, to share another poem. The thing is, getting up at the mic this time, I wasn’t shaking. I wasn’t terrified.

  I was excited.

  I scurry back inside, Louise waiting on a single customer on this humdrum Tuesday in November. The kids are busy in school, the college kids are gone, and the sleepy town of Rosewood is even sleepier, if that’s possible.

  Luckily, though, I have a hot doctor to fill my nights and, when he snags a day off, my days, too. We’ve been exploring Rosewood’s offerings, both places we’ve been and places Alex hasn’t tried. We’ve been branching out, though, too. He took me to a museum a few hours away a couple of weeks ago, and I surprised him with a trip to a zoo just a few towns over. We’ve been exploring, reimagining our lives, and growing together.

  Even though things with Mom are still far from perfect, I’m getting a glimpse of what happiness could mean with Alex.

  It’s hard, though, to let myself become completely invested. Because in a few short years, he’ll be done here. And I guess I’m just a little afraid I’ll be left in the shadows, wondering what I’m going to do next.

  As if he knew I was thinking about him, he comes wandering through the door, an excited look on his face.

  “Hey, come with me,” he says animatedly, as I reach to pour him a coffee.

  “I’m working, though.”

  “No, you’re not. You’re the one playing hooky today.” He grins, and I raise an eyebrow.

  “I think we’re a bad influence on each other,” I admit, turning to Louise.

  “Go ahead, sweetie. Alex already gave Dane a heads-up. You’re free to go. Get out of this place. Have some fun for me while you’re at it.” She lets out a little chuckle that would be mildly off-putting, but I’m too elated to think about it. I toss my apron in the back, quickly pour a cup of coffee to-go for Alex, and follow him out into the chilling day, ready to see what adventure he has in store for us.

  ***

  Alex leads me to my spot, the oak tree, the one I showed him one time—and yes, things got a little spicy under the branches of the oak, which is luckily in a pretty secluded spot.

  “So are you going for a replay?” I ask, leaning on his arm.

  “No. Yes. Not exactly,” he replies, hands in his pockets as we stroll toward the big, sturdy trunk. “Let’s sit.”

  I do as he asks, both of us sitting cross-legged in the grass. I pick at a blade of grass, smiling at Alex, wondering what we’re doing.

  “I have something for you,” he says mysteriously, and he reaches into his pocket to pull something out.

  “What is it?” I ask, confused as he hands me some papers. He brought me to this tree to give me some junk mail? Some brochures? What’s going on? Is he delirious?

  “Read it,” he commands.

  I bite my lip as I unfold the papers, not sure what to expect in the least.

  But when I open it, I’m more confused.

  It’s a pamphlet for a writing program at Queens University in Charlotte.

  As in North Carolina. As in several hours away.

  “Okay. I don’t understand.”

  Alex’s face turns into a huge grin as he looks at me pointedly. “Well, they have a great creative writing program. It’s amazing, and it’ll help you get your poetry going.”

  “Alex, I can’t. This is in North Carolina.”

  “Exactly. It’s out of Rosewood. It’s away from here. A new place to explore, a new path. It’ll be great.”

  I look at him like he’s just suggested the earth is flat or that Keith Urban just agreed to marry me.

  “They won’t accept me. I had terrible grades.”

  “But they will. I’ve been in contact with them. I explained your poetry writing. I talked to them about your credentials. The admissions counselor wants to meet with you, wants to see your work.”

  I stare at him, trying to remind myself to keep my mouth closed. “You did what?”

  “I’m sorry. I know. I should’ve told you. But I knew you needed a little push. I know you want more in life, Marley, and I know you want to pursue your writing. I also knew you’d never give yourself permission to pursue it.”

  “So you just did it for me?” I ask, a little taken aback. I’m shocked. I’m confused. I’m floored he did this.

  “Are you mad?” he asks gingerly, apparently the thought crossing his mind for the first time.

  I take a second to reexamine the blade of grass, taking a deep breath. “No.” I look up at him. “I’m just scared. North Carolina’s pretty far from here. I don’t know.”

  “But Marley, it’s only about five hours. Five hours to make a start for yourself, to do something just for you. I know you worry about your mom, but I’ve already talked to Joe and Margaret. They’ll watch out for her. You know they will. And I’ll be here.”

  “That’s part of the problem, too. You’ll be here. I’ll be there. This will never work.”

  He reaches for my hands, forcing me to drop the blade of grass. “Of course it will. I’ll come see you. You’ll come see me. We’ll talk. It’s just for a few years. I love you. Trust in that. Don’t let the fear of losing me, of losing anyone, stop you. You need to do this for you.”

  I look at him, at the faith he has in me, and I tear up.

  I want to be the brave Marley I try to be, the front I put out there. I want my adventurous parts of life to be about more than jumping in a mud puddle or taking a selfie in the rain. I want to explore this world, to get out there, to find myself. I want to laugh and cry. I want to be scared. I want to scare someone. I want to travel, to learn, to reach, to find, and to run. I want to do everything with someone else. I want to be with someone through it all, to experience what life has to offer with no regrets.

  Above all, I want to do this with the man who rescued me and the man who has inspired me to be something more. I want to do all of this with the straitlaced-turned-somewhat-spontaneous man who makes me feel like life and love are possible.

  I want to find my way with Alex. I want every piece of me to be his, in every way.

  But I don’t know if I can. Because the thought of it all is more than just a little scary. It’s guilt-ridden. It’s complicated. Am I ready to move on? Can I leave this place behind?

  Can I leave Mom behind?

  I know it’s crazy. There have been so many times when I wasn’t her priority. There are so many in town who whisper I’m nuts or that I’m an angel for sticking around. I’m neither.

  I’m just the little girl who cried in the backyard as her mother crumpled to the ground with the news her daddy was dead. I’m the little girl who worried her mom was going to die too if she didn’t stop crying in her bedroom.

  I’m the seven-year-old who lived with the Conlans for a summer while Mom got help.

  I’m the eight-year-old who didn’t want to tell anyone Mom wasn’t doing better, that she was gone more than she was home, and that even when she was home, she spent so much time drinking from the bottle that she wasn’t helpful anyway.

  I’m the sixteen-year-old Marley who said screw it and gave up on finding a way out, on a new happiness, and on things every being okay.

  I’m the eighteen-year-old Marley who packed up her stuff to leave, but turned right
around at the sight of her mom crying, begging me not to leave, too.

  I’m the twenty-one-year-old Marley who is ready to live life but feels like doing so would be abandoning her mom. I feel like I’d be letting Dad down. I couldn’t save him when I was seven, but I can save Mom. I can save her from herself, from complete destruction, and from giving up.

  I can be here to support her. I can take care of her.

  I have to take care of her.

  I don’t shoot down the idea right away, though. It’s too painful to just let it slip from my hands so quickly, just like everything else.

  “I’ll think about it,” I say, mostly to placate him as well as the woman inside of me begging for escape. He leans in to kiss my cheek, the pamphlet still in my hand, the branches of the oak fanning above us as a few raindrops fall down.

  Chapter Twenty

  Marley

  Later that night, back at my house, I sit in my room. The lamp is on, the pamphlet gleaming underneath it on the nightstand. I stare at the bright, crisp cover, two students ambling on the campus. For a moment, I picture myself there.

  I picture myself taking writing classes, working toward my goal. I picture myself out of Georgia’s, living life, going somewhere.

  But could I do it? Could I leave this place?

  Could I leave Mom behind?

  I know it’s crazy. Most twenty-one-year-olds are long gone by now, loosed from the confines of their parents. I know, too, that sometimes Mom doesn’t deserve so much consideration. God knows she doesn’t give it to me.

  I just can’t feel good, completely good, about leaving, though. What if it’s the final straw? What if she completely breaks? How would I live with that?

  Then again, is it fair for me to be here forever, tied to a stagnant life, tied to the anvil in the river at Cedar Bend Bridge? Is it fair my life stopped when my dad made his choice? Is it fair to keep myself from happiness forever?

  I bury my head in a pillow, muffling my scream. Life is too hard. Even now, with Alex in my life, things are so hard.

  There is no easy answer.

  I lie awake in bed all night, thinking about my future, about life, about Alex. I try to figure out how to solve this.

  When the alarm rings in the morning, though, and I realize I fell asleep somewhere between my two options, I groggily get out of bed, carrying the pamphlets out to the kitchen, tossing them in the trash.

  Who am I kidding? Who do I think I am? I’m not college material. I’m not poetry material. Most of all, I’m not leaving material.

  I trudge off to my routine, to my life, to my forever planted here in the small town I’ll never escape.

  ***

  Alex is working tonight, so after my shift, I head straight home for a shower and some television. I startle when I walk through the door and find Mom on the couch.

  “Mom. I thought you’d still be sleeping.” In truth, this is all Mom seems to do lately. Work, Bill, or sleep. I’ve barely seen her, for better or worse.

  “Marley, sit.” Mom motions toward the empty chair. She is silent and stoic, remarkably calm. She seems peaceful, her hair not the frizzy mess it usually is. She’s wearing jeans and a solid blue top. She looks pretty. She looks like a snapshot of the Mom I once knew.

  “Marley, I know I’ve been a shit mom.”

  I open my mouth to stop her, waving my hand. She puts her hand up to shush me.

  “Stop. Listen. I know I’ve messed up. Big time. I’ve never gotten myself together for you. I haven’t been there. I certainly have my reasons, but that doesn’t mean I have a good excuse. Time and time again, I’ve let you down. I’ve fallen into bad cycles. I don’t think I’ll ever be the mom you deserve. Truly. I know that.”

  “Mom, I love you. Stop.”

  “I love you too, Marley. Which is why, for once in my life, I need to do the right thing. I need you to do the right thing.” She reaches behind her, pulling out the crumpled brochures. “You need to go.”

  “Mom, those are nothing.”

  “Stop it. I found them in the trash while Margaret and Joe were here. I know what they mean. Margaret, Joe, and I had a long, long talk. They made me see some things I’ve been too selfish to see. I see it now. And I’m telling you to go.”

  I freeze, stunned by her words, by the thought of Joe and Margaret talking about this with her. Most of all, I’m stunned by the thought of her listening, of her taking it to heart. Still, this can’t be right. This can’t be. I shake my head, dismissing the conversation, saying, “I don’t want to. It was stupid, really.”

  “Listen to me. I may be a drunk and a bad mom, but I’m not an idiot. I know living here isn’t what you want. I’ve just been too selfish to let you go. And you’re too good of a person to leave. But stop using me as an excuse. Stop being afraid to fail or to mess up. Go, Marley. Go. See what life has for you. Staying here isn’t going to change me. My cards have been played. I’ve made my choices. But I can have some satisfaction in the thought your life isn’t completely fucked-up. You can still find a good life. So you need to go. It’s not a question. It’s an order.”

  Tears are streaming down my face. For the first time in a long time, I see a hint of who Mom is, who Mom could’ve been.

  I see an unselfish woman who just wants the best for me. I see love. I see a desire for me to succeed.

  Without a word, I do something I haven’t in a while. I traipse across the room, sit on the couch beside her, and fall into her arms, tears streaming.

  “I’m scared,” I cry into her shoulder, feeling again like the eight-year-old girl. This time, though, Mom is there to be a mom, to hold me, to tell me it’s going to be okay.

  “You’re going to soar, Marley. Let me let you soar.”

  And suddenly, I know Alex has done me one better than rescuing me from the bridge.

  He’s helped me rescue myself. He’s helped Mom rescue us.

  He’s saved my present, my future, and my dreams.

  Chapter Twenty-One

  Alex

  Her hair is billowing behind her as the November sun grazes across her skin. She clings to my arm like she has so many other times as we walk through Rosewood after a long day of work for both of us.

  The thing is, though, where I used to be apt to stay at work, to bask in the glow of my accomplishments, I’m now looking forward to these moments. Work is only one part of me.

  Marley’s the other.

  We stroll down the sidewalk, and I veer left, taking us to what’s quickly become our spot.

  “So what time are your parents coming tomorrow?” she asks.

  “I think ten.”

  “Perfect. Joe and Margaret are planning dinner for noon. Will that be enough time?”

  “Of course. I can’t wait for Mom and Dad to meet you.”

  She bites her lip. “You sure they’re ready for that? You sure you’re ready?”

  “Marley, we’ve been through this. They’re going to love you.”

  “Are they going to love all of me though? As in, my family, too?”

  I smile. “Of course. They’ll love you because how could they not? You’re amazing.”

  Thanksgiving dinner is going to be at the Conlans’ place tomorrow. Margaret’s already busy working on the pies. They were gracious to extend the invite to me this year and to my folks. Even Marley’s mom is going to come this year. It’s going to be a big bash.

  And I truly do believe my parents are going to love her. My dad’s certainly not over his fears of Marley distracting me or the fact he thinks I’m making mistakes. He still hasn’t let go of the fantasy that I’ll return home, the perfect son, ready to live out his version of my dreams. We’ve still got a lot of progress to do.

  Still, I know at the end of it, it’s my life and my decision. I also know that Marley is amazing. I think some time with her will convince my dad I’m not totally lost—but we’ll just have to see. As Marley’s taught me, we can’t control our families. We can only control our own happin
ess, and I’m taking the reins of mine, whether my dad agrees with me or not.

  “This will be Mom’s first year at Thanksgiving in a while. She never would come with me. Dad always loved the holiday and, truth be told, I don’t know if Mom felt like she had much to be thankful for.”

  “Well,” I say as we get to the middle of the bridge, to the exact spot, “I have a lot to be thankful for this year.” I lean in and kiss her against the banister, the breeze blowing against my back.

  She pulls back slightly, grinning. “Careful, doctor boy. You wouldn’t want to have to jump in again for me. I think the water might be a bit colder this time of year.”

  I eye her seriously, the girl with raven-black hair who stole every piece of me right here from the moment I first saw her.

  “I’d jump in that water a hundred times for you. Seriously.”

  “I know you would. And I love you for it. But how about we stay up here for today? I’m okay with not being rescued, at least physically.” She puts a hand on my jaw and pulls me back in. We kiss for a long while.

  “What are you going to do without me?” she asks, and I grin weakly.

  It’s a thought that’s been crossing my mind more than sporadically these days.

  In a month, she leaves for North Carolina, her acceptance official. She’ll be gone from this place, finally spreading her wings, and I’ll be left behind.

  It’s an odd sensation.

  “I’ll miss the hell out of you. But we’ll make up for it when I get to see you,” I reply, and she nuzzles into me.

  “You betcha,” she says.

  I pull back. “You betcha.”

  And it’s true. I’m going to miss her like crazy. I’m going to miss our easy routines, our walks together through the tiny town. I’m going to miss seeing her smile every day and her crazy adventures. I’m going to miss all of her.

  But I’m happy as hell, too. I’m thrilled to see her thrive in this new chapter of life. I’m ecstatic she’s getting out of here and chasing her dreams. I’m happy to see the sadness of the girl on the ledge of the bridge that night has faded away and, in its place, this Marley has surfaced. The Marley I think she always wanted to be.