7
Cooper doesn’t come home. With each hour that passes, I don’t know whether to be mad or worried. I don’t know whether or not to believe the darkest thought of all: that Cooper’s not staying away just to punish me. That he’s really gone. But he can’t be gone. Not for real. Not for good. He has our whole lives planned out. He wouldn’t just walk away from that. Would he?
At dawn, I drive by Cooper’s practice, but the parking lot is empty on the weekends. So I call Stephen, but he doesn’t answer his phone. I go into the hospital and chart, distracting myself from the anxiety spreading and splintering beneath my rib cage. When morning turns to afternoon and the Saturday silence in the clinic becomes unbearable, I shower, change and head home to face the silence there.
I confirm before I walk into the house that Cooper still isn’t here. His car isn’t in the garage. The lights are off. The warmth is gone. It doesn’t look like he’s been home at all.
I let the puppy out in the backyard, where there’s an ugly gash down the center of it, carved by Reese’s shovel. He has made considerable progress on it, but for now it’s torn apart for anyone to see, myself included, hidden scars revealed, imperfections exacerbated. It will get worse before it gets better.
If it gets better.
I let the puppy into the house, then walk back to the yard, searching for solitude. I extend my toes into the grass. It reaches to mid-shin, and it’s wet, dampening my pant legs and squishing between my toes as I walk from one side to the other, but I don’t feel it. I don’t feel anything. So long ago, I placed a screen between what I think and what I feel. I can see it on the other side, but I can’t touch it, and it can’t touch me. I often blame Abby’s death for that, but even when Abby was alive, she would urge me to open up and let people in.
“Do you even like guys?” I remember her asking me one breezy afternoon next to the lake. We’d bundled up in sweaters and blankets out on the grass in our backyard to watch a houseboat party out on the water. It was the beginning of April and after she and Christian had been dating for a couple of months. I could tell they were getting more serious but she insisted I was making more out of it than was actually there. I was tempted to answer her question with a “no” because at that moment, I didn’t like what guys were doing to our relationship.
“Of course I do,” I snapped. I knew what she was really asking. But I didn’t like her tone, and it hurt that she had to ask at all. She knew me better than anyone.
Abby curled her loose Medusa strands behind her ear in an attempt to tame them against the wind. It didn’t work.
“I’m just asking. I don’t care either way. You don’t have to be so snappy.” She moved a little closer to me. “Why don’t you ever go out with anyone?” she asked. “Why don’t you make friends with people? I know you’re fun to hang out with. And you’re really interesting to talk to when you aren’t putting up the Great Wall of China.”
I pursed my lips at her. “What’s the point? People are assholes.”
She rolled her eyes. “C’mon, Dylan. You know that’s not true. You’re just looking for the bad in people instead of looking for the good. You don’t want to have people in your life, and I don’t know why.”
“I’m too different, Abs. I think in...numbers, and cause and effect, and logic. People at school are more worried about who is dating who, and who said what to whom. It’s all drama. I don’t get other people. They don’t get me.”
Abby laughed. “Don’t worry. Once you get out of high school, they’re going to love your no-bullshit attitude. Mystery is sexy.”
“I’m not mysterious,” I said. I was being contrary to demonstrate my resentment toward her friends and the fact that she would be leaving for college soon, but secretly, I hoped she was right.
Abby frowned, finally seeing the seriousness on my face. She wrapped an arm around my shoulders. A group of people on the boat burst into laughter. The sound traveled across the water and was a whisper by the time it reached us.
She lifted her chin and urged me to do the same. Us against the world. “So prove them wrong,” she said.
The sound of the back door opening pulls me from the memory. I look up, and Cooper stands in the door frame. At least, I hope he does. I pray I’m not imagining him there. From this distance, I can see he’s wearing the same jeans and T-shirt from the night before, but I can’t make out his expression. I can guess at a frown, though, because every muscle in his body seems too heavy for him to carry. It’s the same defeat I saw in Stephen when he came over after he moved out of his house with Megan. I don’t know yet if it’s the rawness a man exposes because it’s over or because he doesn’t want it to be.
I wait, watching for the first sign of movement from him like a deer being stalked by a mountain lion. I listen, ears perked, for the words to determine our fate. Cooper leaves the stoop and wades through the grass toward me. I feel the space close between us as if it’s bowing under the pressure. His eyes are locked with mine. His strides lengthen with every step closer until he’s right in front of me, and his arms are around me and he lifts me off the stepping-stone to put us back on the same ground. Relief releases me into his arms. I rest my head on his shoulder, nuzzle my face into the soft skin of his neck and hold him to me like we’re on the edge of a cliff, ready to fall. Maybe he can forgive me.
“I’m so sorry, Dylan,” he says, but I shake my head. I won’t let him take the blame for this. I was trying to protect him, or maybe myself, and instead, I turned what should have been one of the most magical nights of our lives into a night that almost drove us apart for good. He doesn’t deserve to carry that on his shoulders.
“I’m sorry.” His skin prickles at my breath on his neck, and he pulls me closer until I’m almost unable to breathe, but I let him hold me. He can hold me forever as long as he doesn’t leave.
“I don’t want to ruin us,” he whispers. “I want to fix us.”
I nod, my jaw rubbing against his. “I know. Me, too. I know.”
“I don’t know what’s going on anymore—”
“I know,” I say. “Things have gotten so out of control. But I do love you, Cooper. I’m just glad you’re home.”
“I know you love me. I shouldn’t have given you an ultimatum. I’m more sorry than you can know.” He chokes on the words. I pull back to look at him, and his eyes are bloodshot, his skin ashen. A single night has aged him a decade.
“You don’t have anything to be sorry for.”
“Dylan—”
I place my fingers across his lips. Every time he apologizes, it only makes me feel worse. He’s so high above me. When he lowers himself, it pushes me farther down.
I allow my fingers to slip down until the lips I’ve kissed thousands of times are revealed. There’s a hollow space between us before he speaks, and then he says, “You’re it for me, Dylan. That won’t change, now or ever.”
My mouth is on his almost before he finishes the sentence. His hands cup the back of my head, and he kisses me so hard there’s no room for the playing of lips or teasing of tongues. It’s not about lust, it’s about the love we’ve lost the ability to convey to each other. But the connection in this moment is so strong, it’s as if the energy in him and the energy in me flows together until we’re humming as one. I’ve always tried to be strong, but with him I melt. He brings out the softness in me that, alone or with anyone else, I can’t touch. Losing him would have meant losing myself.
But he’s here, and he’s staying.
I pull away from him, light-headed from lack of oxygen. “Come on,” I breathe. I weave my fingers through his and lead the way back through the grass. We sneak inside silently as if we’re in someone else’s house, trailing soggy footprints on the hardwood behind us like bread crumbs.
The bedroom is orange with the sunset, and hazy—an overexposed photo.
I guide Cooper to the bed, and he sits on the edge. His knees are against mine, his rapid breath palpable between us. He doesn’t look up at me, but at my hands, examining them like he wonders if they are strong enough to hold us together, or maybe wondering how they’ll change over the years. They’re shaking with emotion and nerves. It’s been so long since we’ve made love, and this time, it feels more important than ever. I take in a quivering breath and tell myself it’s just like riding a bike. We’ve always been good at this part.
I reach for the hem of my shirt and pull it up over my head, the neck loosening my ponytail as it goes. I pull the band out and let it fall around my shoulders. Cooper tilts his head up to me and sucks in a breath like he’s seeing me for the first time. With my heart pounding, I unclasp my bra and let it fall to the floor.
Cooper places his hands on my hips and moves me to stand between his knees. With me closer, he runs his hands up my back, then down to my buttocks. He takes big handfuls of them and hums his contentment against my belly button.
“Mmm. You smell amazing,” he says. “Just you. Your skin.”
I smile and lace my fingers through his hair. I lean forward until my nose is buried in the soft strands. He smells good, too.
“I love you,” he whispers. In response, I tilt his head up and kiss him like the girl he first fell in love with, when I was reckless and hungry. I try to channel the assurance I had back then that Cooper saw me for who I wanted to be instead of who I was. That as long as I remained that mysterious girl, he wouldn’t know the secrets buried underneath. With my secrets so close to the surface now, though, I know better than to be that naive. I take this moment for what it is: a hope, not a promise.
Cooper pulls me on top of him, and we scoot ourselves across the bed. I press my body against him. He runs his hands up and down my backside from my thighs to my hair. Any place he can reach. I slide my hands underneath his shirt and clumsily pull it up until he’s forced to sit up to allow me to remove it, revealing his broad chest and shoulders. He fights off the rest of my clothes, then I pull off his. Every earned muscle of his body glistens in the dim light. His once-tight stomach has softened slightly over the years, but I love it even more for that. His kisses turn harder, almost angry. His erection is noticeably absent, but before I have a chance to decide what this means, he pulls me down on him again and into a kiss that leaves me breathless.
We wrestle like this for a long time. Kissing and caressing. Touching and moaning. At one point, I take him into my mouth. All to no avail.
“Are you okay?” I whisper in the gray light before the dark.
“Yeah.” He’s panting. He pulls me into another deep kiss. This one is furious, but I recognize it for the desperation it is. He bites my bottom lip too hard, but I don’t allow myself to make a sound. When our teeth clank together awkwardly, his passion dissolves. He covers his eyes with his hand, and what I can see of his face has turned red.
“Coop, it’s okay,” I say. “It’s been a long couple of days.” I try to reassure him, but in truth, any hope I had flutters off my heart and lands in the pit of my stomach.
“I’m sorry. It’s not you. It’s not you at all, I swear. I don’t know...” He tries for an explanation with a pained expression on his face. When it doesn’t come, he rolls off the bed and disappears into the bathroom, closing the door to emphasize the barriers that still stand between us.
“Cooper?” I call, but my voice is so frail, I know he can’t hear me. He’s gone to a place where I can’t reach him. I pull the blanket up to my chin to cover my nakedness and dampen the fabric with my tears.
* * *
In the days that follow, Cooper pretends the mishap never happened—pretends life has gone back to normal. He’s so good at it, he almost convinces me, but there’s an underlying tension I can’t shake—my intuition telling me this isn’t over yet. Not by a long shot.
I find an escape in the garden, just like Cooper intended. It becomes habit to wake up fifteen minutes early each morning to have an extra cup of coffee. I carry it with me as I walk barefoot around the yard to admire Reese’s progress before he shows up. His appearances are sporadic, but even so, digging a moat alone appears to be a slow, strenuous job. I’m careful to sneak back to the house when I hear Reese’s truck pull into the driveway.
One afternoon, I come home early to get some rest before an expected delivery, and Reese reappears. I assumed he’d left for the day since his truck wasn’t in the driveway when I got home, but he surprises me while I’m sitting on the back stoop, watching the puppy prance from one side of the yard to the other.
“Are you avoiding me?” he asks before I’ve noticed him. I start, spilling my glass of water on the step next to my feet. I cover my heart with my hand and let out an exasperated sigh. “Sorry,” he says with a laugh and that smile.
“No,” I say, still trying to get my bearings.
“Did I upset you?”
“No,” I say. The truth is, something about Reese makes me nervous. He looks at me too closely. I open my mouth to come up with some other excuse, but I can’t think of one. He continues to look at me now with his eyes squinted from the sun.
“Can I show you something?” he asks.
I look at my watch, wondering how much time I have, but more concerned about the conclusions he’ll undoubtedly make about me if I don’t go...or why I even care. I set my water on the stoop and stand. Reese walks me to the side of the house.
The puppy follows us. As we walk, Reese reaches up to rub the back of his neck, making the muscles in his arm and shoulders tighten and my cheeks flush. It’s then that I realize what’s really bothering me about him.
I find Reese attractive.
It’s been so long since I’ve looked at a man in that way, I didn’t recognize the feeling for what it was. But it’s undeniable—his light eyes in contrast to his dark features, his full lips, his lean muscles. Despite my reckless youth, since I met Cooper, I haven’t assessed a man in any other way than to decide whether or not they were competition for promotions.
I see it now, though.
Understanding and labeling the feelings toward Reese makes them easier to control, and almost immediately, the wild energy surrounding him dulls.
“What do you think of these flowers?” he asks, pointing to a small assortment of plants in nursery pots. I don’t know much about flowers. Mom would know the name, species and recommended amount of water and sunlight for each.
“They’re pretty,” I say.
He laughs. “Okay. What’s your favorite flower?”
“I don’t know many, but I’ve always loved Stargazer lilies.”
When I was younger, Mom knew how much I loved them, so she always let me plant the bulbs, even though I had the habit of burying them upside down. It never ceased to baffle her that in the spring, they would break through the soil anyway and bloom more beautiful because of their longer journey. At least, that’s what she told me.
“Good choice. I’m thinking of putting these ones on either side of the back door, against the house.”
I shrug. “Sounds good to me. I trust your judgment.”
“You do?” he asks with a laugh.
I narrow my eyes at him. “On landscaping,” I say, but even I can hear the skepticism in my voice.
“I’m just about to get started. Do you want to help me?” he asks.
“You mean garden? Trying to get out of doing your job?”
“No. Trying to get you out of yours.”
He stares into my eyes, and this time I don’t break contact. I haven’t given him enough credit for how much he sees.
“It’s not your job to worry about mine.”
“Just trying to help.”
I scoff and turn away. There are enough people in my life who judge me for my work ethic. I don’t need
it from him, too. I almost make it to the back door when I hear Reese call from behind me, “Do you ever wear anything that doesn’t have ‘doctor’ written all over it?”
I stop midstride, bite my lip. I can feel him grinning behind my back, so proud of himself. He already knows the answer, as I do. I look down at the scrubs I’m still wearing from surgery this morning, and then up at the sky. Is being a doctor really all I have the space to be?
I turn around and say, “I have twenty minutes.”
He gives me a smile.
Reese turns the soil he’s already fertilized and lines the plants up along the house where they will be transplanted. The puppy nips at the leaves, and I repeatedly nudge him away. Reese gives me a trowel to clear out a space for the roots and shows me how to bury them deep enough. I let him direct me. He talks with as much passion for his work as I do when talking about mine.
Once we fall into a pattern, we work in silence for a while, but it’s a comfortable silence, especially for someone who makes me so uncomfortable when he speaks. I lose myself in the motion of digging, the sounds of nature and the feeling of my muscles, powerful beneath my skin. I’d forgotten how addictive it is. It slows some of the gears in my mind.
“So you never told me what made you such a good doctor,” Reese says.
Our last conversation was weeks ago. I can’t believe he still remembers. I laugh, shake my head. “You’re one of those people who doesn’t let things go, aren’t you?” Just like Abby.
“Not if I think there’s something interesting there.” He glances at me without turning from his work.
I remind myself that once the yard is done, he’ll go his own way and he’ll take his opinions about me with him, and then I say, “My sister died when I was sixteen.”
Perfectly Undone: A Novel Page 9