My Heart for Yours

by Jolene Perry

  “How’s the hand?” she asked.

  I shrugged.

  “I didn’t mean what I said earlier, I promise,” she said.

  I caught her chin between my thumb and index finger and kissed the tip of her nose.

  “I wouldn’t blame you if you did.”

  “I just—”

  “You don’t have to explain,” I said.

  “No, I want to. I just feel like to my dad, my mom and I are possessions. He controls us, he treats us like we are things that he owns, not people. And I love that I’ve never felt like you did that with me. Until tonight. I’m sorry, I know I overreacted. And that guy was a total jerk—”

  I kissed her. Our mouths pressed hard together like everything that we needed to say was being communicated that way. And it was all good and right.

  “Slow down. I still owe you a swim,” she said, tugging her zipper down and sliding her dress to the ground.

  I chased her into the water with my clothes still on and we swam and kissed and touched.

  She was both the most innocent and most dangerous girl I had ever met. I loved that she stuck up to me. I loved that I ached when she left me standing there, that I actually cared enough to hurt. I’d never felt that with any girl before her. And that night at the cabin, we made love for the first time.

  ***

  I haven’t stayed at the cabin in about a year, but nothing has changed. The tiny cabinet full of random supplies—garbage bags, batteries, condoms, is still untouched, and my sleeping bag is still neatly rolled up in the corner. I spread it out on the thin cot mattress and lay down. The heavy weight of the day settles into my bones and I know that I could easily fall asleep for days. When I close my eyes, though, my mind shifts back to all the nights we spent here.

  I came here after Delia and I said good-bye the last night because I knew it’d still smell like her. Her hair pins would still be on the windowsill where she took them out and left them. Her copy of Whitman’s Leaves of Grass would still be lying next to the makeshift bed, with the last page she read dog eared. I sort of wish I would have left it here now to thumb through. Back then, reminders of Delia were too hard to have around. It was like the entire place reeked of regret. But I don’t think I feel that way anymore. I got too close, fell too hard, and let her in too much. I broke every one of the LeJeune brother’s rules when I was with Delia. But I broke every single one of them for her.

  Eamon tried to help me forget her and move on by keeping me busy. He and I built homemade land mines and threw rocks at them to watch them explode, glass flying through the air. We went jumping off the highest rocks into water that was way too shallow. Eamon said that he did all of those things to make himself feel alive.

  He saved me then and a lot of times since. I don’t think there will ever be a time that I won’t miss my brother.

  Twenty-Three

  Delia

  You’d think after the last few days, the cemetery is the last place I’d want to be, but I miss Gram. Dad’s gone to meet up with Weston and his father, and I definitely can’t lie around with Mom and think about how bad that meeting might be going.

  I park at the bottom of the hill and start the short walk up. I should have worn different shoes; the heels of my sandals sink into the damp soil with each step. They’ll probably be ruined after this little field trip. No, what I really should have done was bring flowers. Magnolias were grandma’s favorite. I reach into my pocket and make sure that I remembered to put a couple of Kleenex. I’m alone, but I know after talking to Gram, I’ll end up crying. When I look back up, I realize that there is someone already standing at Gram’s grave.

  Tobin? What in the world? I walk slowly to where he stands. I don’t want to interrupt him, but I also don’t want to startle him.

  I stand next to him without saying a word. He knows I’m here. I can tell because he gives a small nod. There are two Magnolias on her headstone. He must have brought them from the tree on his property. I don’t know what to say. So I just stare. My heart pounding. My throat drying out.

  We went from yelling to this.

  Out of the corner of my eye, I see him do the sign of the cross and then hear him clear his throat, so I figure it’s safe to speak.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask. I don’t look away from the spot on Gram’s grave that I’ve been staring at for the last few minutes and neither does he. We just stand there, side by side, my shoulder almost touching his chest.

  “Sorry, I didn’t know you’d be here.” His voice is gravely and hoarse. Has he been crying?

  “Same.” I say. “You brought flowers?”

  I see him nod again. I hate that this is awkward.

  “The Magnolia tree on our land had just bloomed. I know they were her favorite.”

  My heart swells that he remembered that about Gram. She would be horrified at what had become of Tobin and I. She always had such a soft spot for him, and faith in us as a couple.

  “That was really nice of you. Thank you.” I’m pathetic. This is…there aren’t words for how incredible this is. It’s so easy to remember all the crazy stuff and all the passion stuff, but it’s this boy, this man that I loved. Love.

  “Look, I just came to bring the flowers and clean up around the stone. I’ll get out of your way now.”

  “Wait,” I say. “Do you, like, do that often?” My heart still pounds. And we’re not yelling. Last time I saw him we were yelling. Too many things whirl through my head and my heart right now for me to say anything I need to say.

  “Who else is going to do it, Delia? Your grandmother was always really kind to me, it’s the least I can do for her.”

  “Well, I appreciate it. And you don’t have to go. I mean, I don’t mind if you stay while I’m here.”

  He finally turns to look at me and all of the air leaves my body when I see the broken look on his face.

  “Can I say something, D?” When he calls me D, like old times, goose bumps cover my arms.

  It’s my turn to nod.

  “I’m sorry for being a jerk about you coming to town. I don’t blame you for moving on. I don’t blame you for hating me—”

  “I don’t hate you, Tobin,” I clarify.

  I can’t tell for sure, but he looks visibly relieved by that statement.

  “I know that I didn’t support you the way that you needed. That I wasn’t there for you. Part of me felt like I wanted to have this family with you, but the other part just wanted to run away. I just, I feel like I screwed everything up—”

  “Tobin, we were in it together. It wasn’t just you that was confused. I was a little out of my mind, too.” I can’t believe we’re doing this with the way we lashed out at each other last night. My chest aches at being so close to him, at starting to wish for something that we might not ever get to have. I miss being with Tobin.

  My feet continue to sink into the wet ground. It’s obvious that neither one of us has any idea what to say. How to heal any of the hurt between us. So we just stand there for another eternity in silence before I speak again.

  “Do you remember that time we went to New Orleans? When I got you those tickets to see The Molly Ringwalds?” I ask.

  “How could I forget? I almost ended up in jail.” The corner of his mouth pulls up and something almost like a smile is on Tobin’s face.

  “You did not.” I scoff.

  “Delia, when that drunken frat boy on Bourbon grabbed you, I lost my mind.” His eyes widen as bit as he speaks, remembering that crazy weekend.

  It’s partially true. Some random drunken jackass grabbed me and stuck his tongue down my throat. When I tried to pull away, he wouldn’t let go, and when he leaned in for another kiss, I smacked him, right across his already red cheeks. He threw me onto the filthy, pot-hole covered ground, along with the ice cold hurricane he was drinking. I’d never seen anyone as mad as Tobin that night. He didn’t hesitate. His fist connected with frat-boy’s jaw so hard that he flew backward. Tobin jumped on top of h
im and continued to punch him over and over and over again. There was blood pouring from every bit of frat-boy’s face, his nose was obviously broken, and yet Tobin continued.

  I didn’t recognize the Tobin that I saw that night—bruised fists, shirt covered in blood splatters. It took Eamon and two other strangers to pull Tobin off of the guy, and by that time, his friends had already gone to find the police.

  When the two cops showed up, Eamon took the blame. Even though he stood there in a perfectly clean shirt without a scratch on him, he didn’t waver.

  “You never would have gone to jail. Eamon never would have let that happen,” I say.

  “Well, we’re lucky the guy was too embarrassed to give a statement. What’s your point?” he asks.

  “The kind of bond you two had was incredible.”

  “Had, being the operative word.”

  My hand twitches as I think about touching him. Reaching out and letting my hand slide down his arm. “He’s here with you, Tobin. Just like Gram is still with me. And I know that you believe that, or you wouldn’t be standing here now.”

  He doesn’t say anything.

  “He came to see me, Tobin. Before I left. Before the baby was…gone.” I was so surprised to see Eamon. No announcement, nothing. Just showed up.

  He reaches up and pinches the bridge of his nose and shakes his head. “Did he upset you?”

  “No, nothing like that. He came to let me know that he was behind us, no matter what we decided to do. He said he’d do anything to help us either way. He told me that he had some money saved, that he was making more than enough out at the plants. He had enough for a down payment on a house set aside, but he would give it to me if you and I decided to keep the baby. That we could use it to have a fresh start, to move away from here, away from my dad…

  “I told him I couldn’t take money that he was planning to use for a home for himself. He joked and said he didn’t need a house of his own anyway. He said that if he had one, he wouldn’t have any good excuses to give the girls who always want to stay the night with him.” I laugh remembering how I chuckled through my never ending tears when Eamon told me that.

  “Why didn’t you ever tell me?” Tobin asks.

  The pads of our fingers lightly graze together. I want with everything in me to reach over and hold his hand, but I can’t.

  “Tobin, I tried. You barely returned my calls. When you did, we’d sit in silence. I didn’t know how to bring it up, or if I even should. And honestly, part of me felt like I couldn’t. I didn’t want to influence your decision either way. And I didn’t want to take you away from your brother. I was scared about the baby. I was scared that no matter what we did, you’d end up resenting me.”

  He swallows again and again. Like he’s trying to digest my words.

  “Delia, I don’t know what to say.”

  “I know. There really isn’t anything to say.”

  The silence is back. The words are all spoken. The only thing left to do is walk away. Again. The anger and hurt in Tobin’s face when he yelled at me was real. I’m not sure if it’s something he’ll ever be able to let go of, but at least we’re talking without yelling. Forgiving someone is a scary thing, because you have to trust that you won’t be hurt again, and I hope we’re there. Or will be soon.

  “Good-bye, Tobin,” I say.

  I close the space between us and stand on my tip-toes. I kiss his cheek lightly and then turn and leave. I can’t do Gram and Tobin in one day. My heart can’t take it.

  By the time I make it home, Mom’s passed out on the sofa, and Dad’s nowhere to be found. Guess he won’t be back ‘til tomorrow. No Mom. No Dad. No Weston. I wander through the silent house. The whole time I was growing up this house was silent or so tense that the air felt hard to breathe.

  I’m suddenly not sure how I survived it, but I do know I’m going to ask to spend some time here. Alone. I can’t even think about what Dad’s going to say. Not yet. It makes me feel weak that I’m afraid even to ask. I laughed when Carl at the bar said I was graduated—somehow implying that I could do what I wanted.

  The only time I’ve done exactly what I wanted is when I was doing exactly what Dad didn’t want me to do. I sit on a stool in the dark kitchen. The house still in silence.

  I want out. I just got back, and I want out.

  Maybe I’ll finally take a trip to the lake and spend some time. I should be tired, but I’m not, so I grab an apple from the fridge and walk out of the house.

  “Delia!” Kelly waves from her truck parked in my driveway.

  “Hey.” I walk her direction, having no idea why they’re in my driveway.

  “Hey, Delia. Jump on in.” Rachel scoots to the middle seat.

  “What are you doing here?” I ask.

  Kelly laughs. “Lookin’ for you crazy girl.”

  I slide in without thinking. “Where y’all headed?”

  “Since we’re both sober, we have no idea,” Kelly teases.

  “I was headed to the lake. Do you think you could drop me off at the tracks?” I ask. Walking to the lake from the crossing would be a lot easier than navigating my overgrown trail.

  Rachel’s brow comes up and this sneaky, knowing, smile. “Hoping to run into anybody?”

  “Whose name rhymes with Row-bin?” Kelly laughs as she hits the gas, lurching her beast of a truck forward.

  My cheeks heat up. “I don’t know. I just…”

  Rachel bumps my shoulder. “You don’t have to say nothin’ Delia. Even if you didn’t run into him, probably a lot of good memories there.”

  “You guys talkin’ without yellin’?” Kelly asks.

  “Did you know he’s been takin’ care of Gram’s gravesite?” I lean forward to catch their expressions.

  “Nope.” Kelly shakes her head. “But that sounds like a Tobin thing.”

  I slump in my seat. It is a Tobin thing. Eamon may have taken care of Tobin, but Tobin did his fair share of taking care of his brother, too. Tobin spent a lot of time taking care of me—even things I probably should have been able to do on my own.

  “You stickin’ around for a while?” Rachel’s voice is thick with something she thinks she knows.

  “I’m stayin’ for me. No one else.”

  Kelly lets out a whoop from the driver’s seat. “For real? You’re gonna be here a while?”

  “Yeah.” I nod. Now I’m definitely feeling more confident.

  “Told ya they’d get back together,” Rachel says.

  “Oh.” I shake my head. “We’re not yellin’ anymore, but…”

  Kelly lets out a scoff. “He has not even smiled at another girl since you left, Delia. That boy is still full-on, hung up, in love, with you.”

  She pulls to a stop at the crossing, and I’m out of breath.

  Is Tobin still in love with me? Talking about forgiveness when I wasn’t sure what was left of us is one thing. Thinking about the kind of forgiveness that would help Tobin and I more forward is something else.

  “Want company?” Rachel asks.

  “Nah. Not tonight.” I jump out of the truck next to the tracks.

  “Should we tell Tobin you’re lookin’ for him if we run into him?” Rachel leans out of the window.

  I think for a minute before answering. “Yeah. Tell him I’m lookin’ for him.”

  “You got it, girl.” Kelly honks once before they back up, turn around, and drive out of sight.

  And I guess it’s that simple. I’m looking for Tobin.

  Twenty-Four

  Tobin

  I flop back on the mattress in the cabin. I’m sure I should be home, but after spending one night in this place, and then seeing Delia today, I just…ended up back here. I miss her so much. Eamon’s death is a gaping hole, but to have Delia so close is like torture. At least the…Weston wasn’t with her today.

  “Is there room for one more?” Delia’s voice cuts through the silence. And for a moment, I really think my heart may have stopped beating.


  How could I have not realized it before now? Standing right in front of me, warm, breathing, gorgeous, was all that I ever needed to make me feel alive.

  “….” My mouth is agape, but no words will come out.

  “Sorry, I didn’t mean to sneak up on you. I just—I just couldn’t leave things the way they were, Tobin.”

  She drops her hand from the doorframe and takes the few steps toward the small bed.