My Heart for Yours

by Jolene Perry

  “Meet me back here after midnight,” she whispered.

  DOUBLE EDGE

  The way you looked at me

  Love

  Mistrust

  The way you sounded to me

  Distant

  Caring

  The way you held me

  Horrible

  Wonderful

  The way you left me

  The way I left you

  In one way

  It’s the same

  I’ll never be Whitman, that’s for dang sure.

  Six

  Delia

  There’s a clatter of voices, and a group of people I know comes in the door of the diner, but already I’m pushing hard to remember names. How does a single year cause near-amnesia? Nelson, Rachel, Kelly…It’s amazing how much they’ve all changed in a year, or maybe that’s me. No asking, no questioning—the booth in front of me and behind me are now filled. Tobin’s gone silent.

  I’m still confused. Is it losing his brother that’s making him so stoic? I figured the next time I saw Tobin, he’d chew me a new one. Maybe he doesn’t care enough anymore to even be angry. That thought hurts me in a way that it shouldn’t. Not for a girl in love with someone else.

  “Hey, y’all!” Rachel says. “It’s like prom flashback, right? Cause we’re all dressed up.”

  Tobin shifts his weight and looks like he’d love to throw a peppershaker across the room. I want to smack her.

  “Oh.” She touches Tobin’s shoulder from behind him. “I’m sorry. I wasn’t thinking. I mean…”

  Tobin’s face falls. I rub the inside of his calf with my foot under the table, because that’s what I’ve always done when I want to tell him I’m sorry without words.

  His head snaps toward me, and my foot drops to the floor as my cheeks heat up. This is so weird. To be close to him, but not close to him. To know that he isn’t mine to touch anymore. All of the history that we have, and yet we sit here almost like strangers. All of the little moments that we’ve shared—the way that he used to smile when I’d kiss that certain spot under his ear, the way he’d trace circles on my bare skin after we’d made love—and I can’t even tap his leg?

  Rachel gives me an apologetic frown from behind Tobin as she tucks her short, brown hair behind an ear.

  Everyone starts asking me questions about living in D.C. and what it’s like now that my dad’s a senator.

  I nod and smile and give the polite answers to questions I’ve been asked a million times. I’ve been coached on how to answer. The fake repetition is suffocating and makes me want to scream. Inside, I think I am.

  I hate it. That’s what I want to say to them. I want to tell them that my dad is now an even bigger ego-maniac than he ever was, if they can believe that. And I thought there was pressure smiling for cameras at the little Louisiana campaign picnics we used to have, but those were nothing. Nothing like the supposed ‘informal’ barbeques, press releases, and the awful realization that I was lower than low when I started at my new school. No one cared that my dad was a senator.

  Everyone’s daddy was a politician, a businessman, the owner of places like Costco, shareholders in Neiman Marcus. Delia Gentry was a nobody. I’ve worked so hard to show people that I was somebody, all I can think is that with all that work, I’m still nothing.

  The voices around us are louder and the laughter’s grating against my nerves.

  When I glance at Tobin again, he’s still and his eyes are almost pleading. I know I need to get him out.

  “I’m tired. Can you take me home?” I figure this time, its okay to tap his leg with my foot under the table.

  I open my purse and start to pull out my wallet, but Tobin gives me the usual, don’t even think about it look. He never once let me pay for anything while we were together, and even in this weird situation we’re in now, it doesn’t look like he’s about to start. I wonder how much of what happened between us was because of his pride… or I guess mine.

  He tosses a few bills onto the table and jumps up standing without a word—I’m sure he’s as desperate to leave as I am.

  All I can think about as we drive is that first night when I invited him to meet me on Becky’s dock. And he actually showed up. Something about Tobin made me feel brave. It was that he had that same energy as Eamon, but with a bit more common sense. He was both dangerous and safe all at once. As I got to know him better, Tobin had the biggest heart of anyone I’d been around. He made me feel…passion. And it’s crazy, but something about him still does. The problem with passion is it goes both ways. Love/Hate. The line between those two is a lot thinner than I thought.

  ***

  I waited on the dock just like I promised I would.

  “You came.” His smooth voice melted me before he came into the light at the end of the dock.

  “I invited you,” I said, suddenly feeling braver than I ever had. Something about Tobin made me brave. Made me want to soak up whatever made him and Eamon so in love with everything. So crazy and wild and wanting to take advantage of whatever adventure they could. I’d lived my life so far in fear. In fear of what dad wanted me to be. In fear of becoming like my mom—like a shell of a person instead of an actual person.

  “That you did, Delia.” My name from his lips hit my stomach, and I patted the dock next to me for him to sit down, even though my hands shook a little at having him so close.

  Just like earlier that day, the warmth from him hit me sending goose bumps across my skin. I tried to settle myself and play cool, but Tobin had come, in the middle of the night, to see me.

  “I brought you a beer, but you might not be a—”

  I popped the top and downed nearly half the bottle, hoping to swallow some of my dancing nerves.

  “—beer drinking girl.” He chuckled as he popped the top off of his.

  We sat in silence, the dark heat of the air pressing down on us, our legs dangling off the dock. I took a few more swallows. The beer tasted less horrible than I expected. Maybe that was just because of the company.

  “Wanna swim?” he asked.

  “What?” I set my bottle down.

  “Swim, Delia.” He smirked. “People do it in the water.”

  “My parents might sleep like the dead, but I’m not sure about Becky’s.” I jerked my head back toward her house. Mostly I’d started to realize that I’d have to strip down there, or before I went back through Becky’s window. I knew I should strip before getting wet, but no guy had ever seen me in less than a swimsuit before.

  “I can jump into the water without squealing like a girl if you can.” The look in his face was pure challenge. Always.

  It took every ounce of courage I had in me to strip off my shirt and shorts. I was thankful I’d thought to wear a matching bra and panties and jumped in without a word.

  Holding my breath to keep the water, my squeals, and my nerves at bay.

  Tobin stood on the edge of the dock with his mouth hanging open before frantically pulling off his shorts and t-shirt, nearly falling over before half-tripping and half-jumping off the dock.

  ***

  A bump in the road pulls me from my daydream. I’m half-living in the warmth of that memory, and half-mad because Tobin should have been there for me when I needed him. He knew how destroyed I was, there was just a lot we never saw coming. I was hurt then when he pulled away from me at the worst possible time, and in some ways, as I think about what we could have had, I’m more hurt now—I’m just better at pretending than I ever thought I’d need to be. Distance in geography doesn’t bother me, but distance in relationships? That was the deal-breaker. My body stiffens as I remember more than just what it does to me to be close to him. Because he’s not the only one with a reason to be mad here.

  Tobin’s impossible to read. He should still be angry, but maybe the death of his brother has just covered up everything else. The more I think about how we left things, the angrier I become.

  “Why did you say yes when I asked you t
o go with me?” Tobin asks.

  “I don’t know.” At least that’s honest. He shouldn’t have asked me to go anywhere with him, and I shouldn’t have come. Why would either of us want to be around the other? Frustration starts to roll around inside me.

  When Tobin and I finally split, he had his brother around. I had no one.

  “I mean, are you dating…” He pinches his nose between his thumb and first finger. Then clinches his jaw tight. Maybe now’s when his anger will come out. “You were with…”

  “Weston, yes,” I snap. What’s with me? “I love Weston,” I say, lifting my chin defiantly, I don’t even know where this is coming from. The words feel heavy and dry coming out of my mouth, like I may choke on them. I don’t know how to explain what Weston and I have to anyone, or even to myself.

  For me, right now, it’s enough to like hanging out with him, and selfishly, to know that he is physically there for me. Because one thing I learned from Tobin is that sometimes the people you love most let you down simply by not being there. Anxiety over the move I could handle, it was everything else that killed me. Us.

  Seven

  Tobin

  “That’s great,” I say. The sarcasm hangs heavy in my voice. I can’t fight it. I wonder how much of her happiness is genuine and how much is because it’s the right thing. The safe thing. The complete opposite of what she had with me.

  “So, what about you? Are you seeing anyone?” she asks. She won’t look up from her hands, folded neatly in her lap.

  I laugh because it’s all I can do. She can’t be serious. Screw the daring tough guy image. What happened with us broke me.

  “D, let’s not even go there.” I shake my head and she just nods.

  “It’s this one coming up here on the right,” she says.

  “I know which house it is, Delia.” I’ve been here a thousand times. Helped her sneak out. Caught her as she slid out of her window. My hands would glide up the length of her perfect body. She trusted me so implicitly. She knew I’d never let her fall, never let her get hurt. Christ, I’ve got to stop.

  “Why didn’t you call me when it happened? With Eamon, I mean,” she asks.

  She peaks out from under her dark lashes. She has too much makeup on. I want to tell her to wipe all that shit off of her face. You can’t even see her. Not the real her, anyway. Course, I don’t even know who the real Delia Gentry is now, maybe I never did. She was a completely different person with me than she was with everyone else. That daring girl from the boat launch was a secret. Something that only I brought out in her.

  I thought it was a good thing, but based on how quickly she moved on, I guess it wasn’t who she wanted to be.

  “I wasn’t really in the frame of mind to go tracking you down, Delia.” Also, I’ve sort of spent the last year trying to forget you ever existed. “And you don’t really have the greatest track record with answering my calls,” I say. The words come out much more harsh than I’d intended, stinging even my tongue, and I can tell by the look on her face she’s feeling it too. I don’t know what the point of this was. We don’t have anything left to say.

  It’s been a year since I’ve driven down this road. The houses on this end of Crawford are massive and immaculate. Pristine lawns with sprinklers on timers. Gaudy, illuminated fountains in each of the yards. My noisy, beat up truck doesn’t belong here. I stop three houses down from hers, the brakes squeaking and the engine idling rough until I give in and shut it off.

  I don’t even have to explain.

  She shrugs and nods. “Yeah, it’s probably better this way.”

  I stare straight out the windshield, trying to make sense of the night. Trying to think of a way to say good-bye to her. Again.

  Then I see them. What the fuck is he doing here? Mr. Gentry, looking as pompous and full of hair gel as I remember the asshole. I squint to make sure I’m seeing correctly. The boyfriend. Weston. Here.

  “I think you’d better go,” I say. Each word is clipped and controlled. Not revealing the rage I feel right now.

  She bites her bottom lip and looks confused as she stares out the windshield.

  “Okay,” she says. “They weren’t supposed to be here. I’m so sorry, Tobin.” She knows. How could she not?

  “Just go, D,” I say. I wonder if it sounds like begging. Its how I feel.

  She slips down out of the truck, but leans back into the cab, her jaw tight, her eyes fixed on me.

  “You have no idea what kind of pressure I’m under, Tobin. You don’t know how hard it is out there, being a senator’s daughter. Being the country girl in D.C.”

  I can’t look at her.

  “You left me first,” she says.

  I want to scream bullshit, but instead tighten my grip on the steering wheel, and try not to see the younger version of Delia’s dad in the driveway. The guy she’ll probably end up marrying—I just hope she doesn’t end up like her mother. That I couldn’t stand.

  “Delia. Just go.” It’s all too much. I shouldn’t have invited her out.

  She shuts the door quietly. Neither her dad nor his minion looks up, so she must be in the clear. I don’t watch her walk away. I don’t want to see her touch him. I can’t. I turn around in the middle of the road and head back toward town, pleading with my own brain to block out the memory. Please, please don’t let it all come back to me today. But it’s too late. I’m right back there in my room with Eamon the afternoon that I knew I’d officially lost Delia.

  ***

  “You hungry?” Eamon asked. “Let’s go into town and get something to eat. I don’t want to spend my entire day off sitting here staring at your ugly face.”

  “Fine. Let me show you something first.”

  He sighed, but followed me from his room into mine, knowing that there would be something deep-fried in his near future if he just complied.

  “All right, sit down,” I said, motioning to the chair. I turned my back to him and began digging furiously through my closet. You’d think I could keep track of something so important, but I’d always been the opposite of organized.

  “Wait,” I said, momentarily halting my search. “Did you just get home? Who were you out with last night?”

  “I wasn’t out,” he clarified, grinning.

  “Ah, a little walk of shame action.”

  “Nothing shameful about it, my brother.” Eamon laughed.

  I reached inside the pocket of a worn out pair of jeans and produced a small, black velvet box.

  “Found it!” I said. The lid made a croaking noise as I opened it proudly. Inside was a thin, gold band inlayed with tiny, pin-prick diamonds. It wasn’t much. It wasn’t even close to what a girl like Delia deserved, but it was all I could do for now. I know you’re supposed to spend two months salary on a ring. Well, sadly, this is what two months worth of pay at Fontenot’s Welding bought. I just hoped it’d be enough for her.

  “And with that, ladies and gentlemen, I’ve lost my appetite,” Eamon said.

  “Don’t be an asshole.”

  “No, no, no,” Eamon said, furiously shaking his head.

  “Yes, E! I’m going to ask Delia to marry me!”

  “Are you fucking insane?” he asked.

  “Nope. I’m so crazy about this girl.”

  “Look at you, all glassy eyed and proud. You’re so ridiculous,” Eamon said.

  “Eamon, come on. You know how much I miss her. I can’t do this for another year. I need to know she’s going to be in my life after her dad is done in D.C. I need her in my life forever.”

  Eamon was staring off into space as if he were trying to figure out some complicated equation.

  “Is this because of what happened before she left? I mean, is it a guilt thing?” he asked.

  “That’s it. That’s got to be it.”

  “That’s not it at all,” I said, snapping the box shut. I wish he wouldn’t bring that up. There’s nothing in this world that I feel guiltier about than not being there the way I should hav
e for Delia before she moved. I freaked. Panicked. I was a coward.

  But shit, she’d suddenly turned into this crazy, clingy girl that she’d never been before—at the exact time that I’d needed thinking space. It was too much.

  “But, why? I really don’t understand.”

  “I don’t want to be with anyone else,” I said. “She’s it. Delia’s it for me. It’s not over guilt. I love her.”