My Heart for Yours

by Jolene Perry

  “I love you, Delia Gentry,” I say.

  A small smile creeps across her tan face.

  “Well, Tobin LeJeune, that’s convenient, because I never stopped loving you.”

  I tangle my hand into the hair at the nape of her neck and pull her lips toward mine.

  “Lets not adding insult to injury.” She does a half-glance to where polo-boy stands on the porch. “Come back after dinner, okay?” she says. “That is, if I’m worth it.” She winks at me as I pull out of the driveway. She’s a lot tougher than she gives herself credit for. Not many people would survive living with her father. All I can do for her right now is pray she knows how strong she is when she tells her daddy she isn’t leaving with him.

  That man tried to scare the hell out of me more than once.

  ***

  “I saw Delia’s old man outside of the welding shop today. What was up with that?” Eamon asked me. Eamon was laying low near the front of the small mudboat, while I held the spot light over his shoulder.

  “There’s one to your right,” I said. I pointed to the large pig frog. Eamon swiped at it and it made a loud, pig-like grunt before he palmed it and shoved it into the sack. We had already caught a couple of dozen in the hour we’d been out on the water.

  “Same old shit. Wants me to stay away from his daughter. He’s heading back to Washington next week, so you know, he needs to give me the usual warning. I think he’s hoping someday it’ll actually stick.”

  “She’s hot, bro, don’t get me wrong. But is she worth this total pain in the ass that her dad has become? I mean, waiting for you outside of work?” He shook his head. Eamon would never end up in a situation like this, because he would never be in a relationship long enough.

  “She’s worth it.” I kept it short.

  “Here finish this,” he said. He passed me what was left of a joint. I flicked it into the river. Eamon watched it float away in the brown water and frowned.

  “Still going soft on me, I see,” he said. “She must be killer in the sack, huh?”

  “Eamon, don’t make me have to kick your ass,” I said.

  He let out a loud laugh and clapped his hands on his knees.

  “I’m messing with you. You say she’s worth it, I believe you. Now let’s get home and fry these suckers up,” he said.

  ***

  I miss him.

  HOPE

  Hope is a ledge

  A walkway

  A cliff

  To really use it, you have to leap off

  But that takes faith

  Faith that the person you’re leaping for

  Will catch you

  Because they want to

  Because the feel of you slamming into their arms

  Is worth everything

  For them

  For you

  Forever

  Twenty-Seven

  Delia

  Damn Tobin. How many times will I have said that by the time I get this mess straightened out? This time I say it to myself with a smile. Tobin is who he is. Impulsive. Protective. Stubborn. Amazing.

  Weston drives away, and I take a look down at my dirty feet, ragged shorts, and stained tank. Every piece of the mess that I am makes me smile. And nothing’s keeping me from waking up next to Tobin tomorrow.

  Weston’s hurt, and I hurt, too. He just wasn’t right. At least I got to tell him why. About who I am, and about how he helped me when I needed it most. There was no way to keep telling Weston I wasn’t leaving him for Tobin, because I spent last night in his arms.

  It feels like I haven’t slept in days, and I guess I really haven’t. The emotional stress of Eamon, Tobin, Weston…it’s all starting to crash down around me.

  I turn toward the house, my stomach a mess of knots, and I just hope that it’s early enough to give me some time to gather my thoughts.

  As I move through the kitchen, I see Mom in her favorite lounge chair in our screened porch with a drink in her hand. Her laptop is open next to her. She isn’t looking at it, though, she’s just staring out into the trees.

  “Mom?” I sit down, wondering how to even begin to tell her what I want to do. Wonder if I know what I want to do, and wonder if there’s any way to make it happen and still be speaking with my parents.

  “Was I a good Mom to you?” she asks without moving.

  “I…of course. Don't be silly." Is what I say, but the truth is, I don’t know. I’d never even thought of it much before. We’ve always seemed like the two women living in the shadow of my father. I know that things will be different now for me, but she’ll still be with him. I can’t imagine a universe in which my mother walks out on my father.

  “I think I should have stood up for you more,” she says.

  Yes, I want to scream. But instead, I’m still not sure what to say to her. I just want peace. With everyone. She and Dad already fight too much; I didn’t ever want to make it worse. It never occurred to me to ask Mom for help against Dad. Neither of us would be able to sway him, I knew that.

  “You were happy here. With Tobin I mean.” She sighs. “Before we moved to D.C.”

  I’m shaky again at the mention of his name. Tobin was always a subject we avoided in our house.

  “Yes. I mean, it was rough for us knowing we had the big decision to make about the baby.” I can’t believe I just said that out loud. “And then even harder when Dad was over-stressed and then Tobin and I didn’t know what to say to each other anymore.” What else am I supposed to say?

  “I should have stood up for you more.” She repeats. “I’m sorry, Delia.” She reaches over and pats my hand. Something she’d do to appease my father or anyone else. I think it’s all so automatic for her now that she doesn’t give it a second thought.

  “I just…” I still don’t know how to explain. “I just want to feel like I own my decisions.”

  Her bright blue eyes find mine. There is a spark behind them. Something real.

  “That, Delia, is an excellent place to start.”

  This is more attention than I’ve gotten from my mom in a long time. It makes me sad, but also make me realize that I don’t need her. I can do things on my own. Have been doing things on my own without fully realizing it. “I love you, Mom.”

  She relaxes back into her chair and takes another sip of her drink. Her email pings. She pats my hand. “Love you, too, sweetie.” But she’s half into email already.

  Wow.

  Okay.

  The sad thing is that probably nothing much will change between us. I guess that’s okay. It is what it is.

  Dad’s heavy footsteps come down the stairs, so I stand and move into the kitchen, knowing he’ll have something to say to me about how I wasn’t home all night. Again.

  Though, I get the impression he got in with Weston early this morning.

  He glances up when I come into sight. “You had a late night last night. I’m not going to be cleaning up any more of your messes, am I?” There’s an edge of anger to his voice, but it’s quiet, controlled. Maybe he’s just tired.

  And is that how he sees my abortion? A mess? I mean, it was a mess, but it was so much more than that. It’s something I’ll always carry with me.

  His large hand reaches toward the closet door and he stand there for a moment, maybe trying to remember what he brought that still needs to be packed.

  “Celebration for Eamon,” I say. “That’s where I was.”

  “And Weston?” His face is harder, and so is his voice.

  This is the point where I always back down. Walk away. Especially after the bathroom incident.

  I’m shaking all over because I’m about to give him the truth. All of it. “I didn’t love Weston the same way he loved me. It wasn’t fair to him.”

  Dad’s hard laugh sounds more like a growl. “So, when you broke his heart, you were really doing him a favor? Is that what you want me to believe? Don’t think I don’t know what happens in my house!”

  Dad’s more than angry, he’s pi
ssed over Weston—throwing one of his favorite lines at me. I’m sure it’ll damage the relationship with Weston’s dad. But I’m hoping that after this morning, Weston will be okay. Maybe it won’t be as bad as Dad thinks.

  “Umm…not right now, no. But in ten years from now both Weston and I will be glad we separated now rather than later. So, yes.” I’m not sure why I’m trying to reason with Dad when there’s no way he wants to reason with me.

  “Dammit, Delia!” His fists clench up. “You can’t even see a good thing when you’ve got it! I don’t know what to do with you!”

  His yell rings between us for a moment, and then silence just hangs.

  “Maybe I’m not your problem anymore.” But my voice is so quiet that I have no idea if he heard or not.

  I can feel Dad’s anger simmering, just waiting to really let loose. I try not to visibly shake.

  “Delia.” His eyes finally meet mine for real, and I suddenly wish he was half dismissing me like he did earlier.

  “I’m going to stay here for a while,” I say. “In Crawford.”

  His whole face relaxes, a reaction I don’t understand, and one that I definitely didn’t expect.

  “No you’re not, Delia. Go pack whatever you need. I have a plane scheduled to meet us in an hour.” He doesn’t even give me a second glance, just turns and continues to check tags on suitcases and zippers. Doesn’t think for a second that I’ll go against him.

  “An hour?” My heart starts thrumming. “I thought we were here until tonight. What about Mom’s car. We drove, and—”

  “I changed it. You’re not acting like yourself.” He scoots one bag closer to the door and begins looking over the next.

  I’m acting more like myself than I have in over a year. “I’m staying, Dad.” I say it with way more resolve than I feel.

  “Delia.” He sighs as he drops his suitcase and wipes his forehead with another handkerchief. “I don’t have time for your teenage ridiculousness. Please go get dressed in something decent, pull up your hair, pack your bags so we can get out of this place and go home.”

  I can barely breathe, but I owe it to Tobin to fight for him. And more than that, I owe it to myself. “This is home.”

  Dad’s jaw tightens.

  Maybe if I plead with him, like I used to do for shoes and fundraiser outfits. “I don’t want to fight with you Daddy, but this is my home, and I want to stay here for a while.”

  “Delia, I’m not messing around.”

  “Neither am I.” I cross my arms and try to keep my voice calm. “You’re not as big of a big-shot as you think you are, Dad. No one will notice if I disappear for a while. You can play on the angle of me staying in our home town as they mourn the loss of one of their young men. Or you can say nothing.”

  “Get upstairs, get dressed, and get in the car!” He means to be obeyed. Dad isn’t used to anyone telling him no.

  “I can’t.” It comes out in a squeak. I close my eyes.

  “Delia.” Dad’s fury is in his tightened jaw, clenched fists, hard breathing. He takes a step toward me, and I know he’s going to hit me. I know it.

  I start to cower away, but stop. If I stand here, the worst that’ll happen is I get a black eye. But if I continue to let him bully me, I’ll never be free. I’ll never have Tobin. I’ll never have any peace of mind. “Go ahead.” I step toward him.

  Dad pauses, his eyes hard on me. His shoulder and arm twitching, ready to strike.

  I want to threaten him. Tell him that if he touches me, I’ll turn him in. I want to threaten to work for the democrats. Donate time to Planned Parenthood.

  But I don’t.

  I just stand.

  Dad turns twenty shades of purple. The silence is thicker than the hot, damp, air. But I’m not standing down. Not on this. My life is spread out before me and he’s not going to take it. I can’t let him. Hot tears start to come down my face, but my determination hasn’t wavered. I’m doing it. I’m worth this. Enough.

  Mom walks in from the kitchen, laptop under her arm and dressed for travel—plain skirt, lower heels and a blouse. She pats Dad on the shoulder without making eye contact with either of us. “Let her stay.” I wait for a second glance back from Mom, but she continues her walk toward the car. Maybe she’s okay with what I’m doing…maybe she’s not. Maybe she’s just trying to keep me from the same fate as her.

  I know I need to give him an easy way out. “Please, Dad. I’m asking to stay in the town you raised me in. Surely if I’m needed here you can say something about that. Probably people won’t even ask. They know I’ve graduated.”

  I’m going to have to actually start responding to texts from friends so they know I won’t be home. And I’ll miss some of them, but not all. Not the way I’d miss my friends from here. I’m no longer running from these people or this place, because I’m not long running from Tobin.

  He stares at the door that Mom walked through. His eyes don’t pass back toward me. “We expect you to be in college in the fall like we planned.” He snatches his suitcase and heads for the door without another word.

  “Love you, Dad.”

  The door slams behind him, and my legs give out as I slide to the floor.

  I did it.

  Twenty-eight

  Tobin

  "Tobin, can you come see?" Mom calls from the front porch.

  The screen door squeaks as I fling it open. She's sitting in her rocking chair with a book on her lap. She's dressed in actual clothes for the first time since the funeral, and everything about the scene looks closer to normal than it has in a while.

  “What's up, Mama?” I say. I kiss the top of her head, and catch the soft, familiar scent. She's wearing perfume again, too. It smells like my childhood. Running into her arms after Eamon and I had been out all day causing trouble.

  “I know things haven't been easy on you, Tobin. I know I put a lot on you when it all first happened. I just want you to know that I love you, too. That you were both my favorite sons.”

  I smile. She hasn't said that in a long time, but when Eamon and I were younger, she'd say it all the time. We were always in competition, always wanting to one up the other, even when it came to her love, so Mama always called us both her favorite sons.

  “I know, Mama.”

  “You boys were so close. And so alike. But in other ways, so different, Tobin. Your hearts were different.”

  “Where you going with this?” I ask.

  “You are enough, Tobin. I know you've been trying to stay away and give her some time, but you go and get that girl, and you don’t let her go this time. If losing your brother has taught me anything, it’s to hold the ones that I love closer than ever. You best do the same, son.”

  It’s then that my mind goes to the ring that I threw out into the darkness when I let go of Delia once and for all, or so I thought. There’s no way to find it now. Part of me feels like a huge asshole for throwing it away, but the other part knows that it was for the best.

  If Delia and I are ever going to stand a chance, we need a fresh start. Someday, maybe there will be another ring.

  One that’s more like she deserves. One not tainted by so much hurt.

  One that lasts forever.

  Twenty-Nine

  Delia

  I can’t remember the last time I was really, truly alone.

  It feels good. Better than good.

  I lie on the dock in the last bits of sunset and pull my knees up as I watch the sky slowly turn into darker shades of blue.

  There’s footsteps on the dock, and I don’t have to move to know its Tobin.

  After all this time, so many things haven’t changed at all. I love everything familiar.

  “I still have a lot to figure out,” I say without moving.

  He sits next to me, pulling his knees up and resting his elbows there. I love Tobin’s profile. I love that he’s here next to me.

  “Don’t we all.”

  “My parents are gone,” I say.


  “How long are you staying then?” He’s asking a lot more than my travel plans.

  “I don’t plan on going anywhere.” I reach my hand out to take his as I sit up, letting my body touch his side. Tobin feels like everything. My past. My future. My home. We’re not getting a redo, more like re-start, and it’ll take some time, but I don’t think either of use will take the other for granted. Not this time.