Without Words

by Stewart, Delancey

  The run hadn’t helped much, and it was too early to grab the guitar and head downtown. I wished we were working today. When I could lose myself in the simple calculations and physical routine of building it was almost as good as music for quieting my mind.

  As if he sensed my readiness to go, Sampson galloped back up the small berm to where I was getting up. Sand flew beneath his feet as he ran, his happy grin lifting my heart a little bit. He stood at my feet, panting and looking up at me as I fastened his leash and rubbed the sides of his long snout. “Hey Buddy,” I crooned. What would I do without this dog? Big liquid eyes watched me. Sampson saw me more clearly than any human, pushing his head against my leg, chuffing softly as we turned to go home.

  We returned to the townhouse facing the alley a few minutes later. There, sitting in the alley in front of the garage door, were two of the old wine barrels from the barn at my family’s winery. I glanced around, but no one was nearby to take credit for the Sunday delivery. It seemed Mateo had come through, even though he wasn’t happy with me.

  “Family,” I told Sampson, who whined back. I ran a hand over the dusty top of one of the old oak barrels. The feel of the strong supple wood filled my head with ideas. “We have a project,” I said to the big dog as he sniffed around the bottom of the barrels with interest.

  We went inside and I opened the garage door. Sampson made himself at home, flopping down in the shade under the open door, his nose resting on his water bowl. I hosed the barrels clean and then rolled them into the center of the space and went back upstairs for my sketchpad. When they were dry, the huge oak containers whispered to me. I let my hand run across the wood, and allowed my mind to roam. After twenty minutes of drawing and imagining, I knew what they would become. I smiled as I put down the pad on top of one. It was a project for Dani, but even the early planning stages of this work helped take my mind off her, off the things I couldn’t fix between us, whatever they were. For the rest of the day, I let myself become immersed in wood and work. Deconstructing and remaking the curved planks, pulling the barrels apart, and creating something completely new.

  When Trent found me working late that afternoon as he arrived home from the station, he called down. “Hey, take a break and grab a beer in a bit?”

  I looked up from my work. “Yeah.”

  As I showered, I slowly realized that deconstructing those barrels and beginning the work of making them into something new had been every bit as effective at clearing my mind—stopping its self-flagellating twisting—as playing the guitar ever was. I let the water run down my face, the hot, clean drops tracing down my eyelids and cheeks. And for the first time in a long time, I found a small glimmering shard of hope inside myself.

  …

  Sampson and I were waiting when the battered VW bug pulled up to the shop Monday morning. I tried to repress the urge to pull Dani into my arms the second I saw her, the bright morning sun making a halo of her wild curls.

  “Hey,” she offered, not meeting my eye as she opened the front door.

  Sampson whined in response, and she paused and laughed as she rubbed his head. I tried not to be jealous of my dog. He cocked his head and shot me a questioning look when she had gone inside.

  “Easy for you,” I told him.

  He settled himself in the doorway and I went in. “Ready for this?” I asked as Dani stood motionless in the center of the shop, staring at the unfinished work.

  “In my head I thought we had finished more than this,” she said, disappointment soaking her voice. “I guess we shouldn’t have taken yesterday off, I just…” her voice trailed off.

  I stepped forward, to her side. But she stepped away. Ice began to creep into my heart. Was she going to pretend nothing had happened? We were back to being…what? “Dani,” I tried, realizing the irony in me being the one to try to fix things with words. “I don’t know—”

  “Better get to work,” she said, shooting me a false smile, her hand brushing mine for the quickest second and sending sparks through my blood.

  A familiar darkness descended as I realized what was happening. The painful thought I’d carried since the accident climbed out from the shadows in my mind, growing bold again, strutting and shouting at me, “You’re not good enough for her.” I stood still for a moment, fighting a battle no one could see, one I would lose either way. And then I pulled the power saw out to the front of the shop, pulled my earplugs and safety glasses from the top of it and buried every thought and emotion in work.

  Dani and I spoke very little that day. We didn’t break for lunch, and a palpable tension filled the small shop, replacing the easy camaraderie that had been there in the past. At one point, our hands brushed as she held up a bracket for me to fasten, and we both jumped at the contact. The atmosphere was flammable, explosive, ready for a spark to ignite a blast of emotion between us.

  The work helped soothe my disappointment, calm my mind. But Dani’s constant presence at my side—and my understanding that I couldn’t touch her or talk to her as I wanted to—created a painful awareness within me. It was like being on a diet and being forced to wear a doughnut around your neck. A doughnut that hated you.

  Dani’s clear rejection was the worst part, but I shouldn’t have been surprised. Our night together must have just highlighted the fact that I could barely form a sentence. It must have been painful for her to try to talk to me all night. Maybe the sex was just a way to avoid having to speak, I thought, though it rang false when I remembered the way she’d looked beneath me, in my arms. The way her eyes had glowed as she’d come apart had said something else. And now I didn’t know what was true. It didn’t matter. All day I tried to convince myself it didn’t matter.

  But it did.

  I put my head down and continued measuring, cutting, and building. It was like dancing on the deck of the Titanic—I could feel us moving away from each other even as I kept pushing forward. The activity kept my brain from spinning out of control, kept my emotion from erupting out of me. For a while, at least, but darkness was gathering on some horizon in my mind.

  As the sun hung low over the pier at the end of the street, I gave up. I pushed the saw inside, standing in the middle of the shop where Dani was sweeping sawdust away from the newly-installed shelving. We were almost done with one wall. I got the feeling she was acting busy as an excuse not to talk to me.

  “Dani.”

  She paused, taking a moment to look up, as though her head was very heavy. Her eyes landed on mine, and they were weary, dark. Don’t ask me, they said.

  “Can we talk?” I asked anyway.

  She stood up straight and pulled the broom against her body, holding it close like a shield. “Yeah,” she breathed in what sounded like defeat.

  I shook my head slowly, trying to signal my confusion. “The other night…I…” I dropped her gaze. I’d had all day to decide what to say, and this was what came out? Emotion rose in me, threatening to crowd out any words I might find. “What’s happening? With us?”

  Her eyes found mine again, and she hugged the broom against her body, her mouth opening and then closing again. “I’m so sorry, Rob. I didn’t mean to confuse things. I should never have let it go so far…you’re a great guy, it’s just…”

  I crossed my arms, mimicking her posture without meaning to. I felt stupid and vulnerable. I knew she was about to tell me we couldn’t see each other. How it was a mistake. My head began to move back and forth, as I tried to stop my mind from filling in the words she wasn’t saying. I didn’t have the ability to convince her, not with words. I wished I could make the argument, make her admit how right things were when we were together, when we weren’t focused on whatever was between us today.

  A shine glossed her eyes and she took a step toward me. “I enjoyed myself.” It sounded like an apology. “I did, I just…I can’t…”

  It was amazing how words could fling back and forth between two people, and result in absolutely nothing being communicated. “Be with me,” I f
inished for her.

  “With anyone,” she corrected, taking a step forward but then seeming to regret it. “I just… It’s not right, Rob. I need to find my way on my own, be independent.”

  That was a nice way of explaining that she thought I was too broken to fix. Or maybe it was my gut instinct, to believe that. I searched my mind for words, for a way to change her mind, but all I could find was a maelstrom of swirling confusion, blackness churning inside me, threatening to overtake me. I felt powerless and small, angry and vulnerable. And I snapped.

  “Fuck that,” I said, the words coming much louder than I’d intended. “You don’t…you just…” I clenched my fists and spun toward the door, then changed my mind and faced her again, too angry and confused to push down the darkness rising inside me. I raised a hand to my forehead, trying to stop the pain building there, the fury and the confusion gathering and conspiring to make me behave like a crazy person.

  I had thought I was better, that I could control this. But I’d been wrong.

  I felt like I was watching myself from above, but I couldn’t stop what happened next. I reached out and pulled down the ladder next to Dani, sending it skidding across the shop. It crashed into the wall behind us and Dani jumped backward, raising her hands to her mouth, terror in her eyes. Sampson was on his feet in the doorway whining. And shame filled me, mixing with the anger and confusion, blinding me further.

  I regretted it as soon as it was done, even as I was doing it. The second the ladder began to crash down I knew I’d screwed up—the fear in Dani’s eyes only confirmed it. I could never hurt her—could never hurt anyone…only how could I ever ask her to believe that now? I’d ruined everything, and now Dani stood there terrified. Hell, even my dog was concerned.

  “Fuck.” I growled, furious with myself. How could I tell her what I was feeling? That I would never, ever hurt her? “Dani…” I was about to try to find an apology when a familiar voice wedged in, halting the unraveling scene.

  “Am I interrupting something?”

  “Mateo,” Dani said, her voice filled with clear relief. She straightened up, ran a hand through her hair. She was trying to seem relaxed, normal. “It’s good to see you again. What are you doing here?”

  “Saving you from my caveman brother, I guess,” Mateo said, shooting me a glare and then looking at the upended ladder. “What the fuck, man? I thought you were building the place, not tearing it down.”

  I stepped backward, wishing I could melt into a wall. Sampson’s big worried eyes were still on me and he shifted his weight from paw to paw, whining loudly. “Sorry,” I whispered.

  “I apologize for my brother,” Mateo said as I walked past him to comfort my dog. Or to let him comfort me. I could hear Mateo talking to Dani as I knelt on the sidewalk outside, burying my hands in the warmth of Sampson’s thick fur. “Since the accident, he doesn’t control emotion well,” he explained. “He was in therapy, but he said it was better. It’s part of the brain injury…”

  “I understand,” Dani said.

  “Sorry,” Mateo said. “Nice to see you again, I just…need to talk to Rob.”

  “Is everything all right?” Dani’s voice was high and full of tension. I had done that to her, made her frightened and upset. I hated myself for it. She was the last person I’d ever want to hurt. I dropped my forehead to touch Sampson’s and listened.

  “Not really,” Mateo said. “Rob is gonna have to come home now. Papi was sick, but things have gotten worse. Much worse.”

  “He’ll be okay?” Dani asked hopefully.

  Mateo didn’t say anything else. Maybe he shook his head. I couldn’t see him. I let my hands trail down Sampson’s smooth fur. Mateo’s silence meant Papi was not going to be okay.

  “I’ll see you later,” Mateo said to Dani.

  I stood, taking Sampson’s leash from the door. Dani gave me a small wave from inside the shop and I let my eyes linger on her a moment too long, then turned to talk to Mateo who was standing just down the sidewalk, pacing in a small circle.

  “What the fuck, man?” Mateo was suddenly in my face, having crossed the distance between us as soon as I turned.

  I shook my head. I didn’t have words to explain what had happened, but the fury was gone now, replaced by something else—a cold isolation. A sorrow so deep and vast that I was a man stranded on an iceberg, floating alone in an endless sea.

  “You need to come home. To see Papi. We need you there.”

  I watched my brother, desperation and sincerity clear in his eyes. He dropped his head and stared at the darkening sidewalk beneath his feet.

  “I don’t want to,” I told him softly.

  “Papi is dying.”

  The news twisted inside my heart. Papi hadn’t been good to me, but he was still my father. The line that separated family and love was thin enough that I couldn’t feel a clear definition of Papi on one side or the other, so the thought of losing him, even in a theoretical way, was painful. “I’ll come say goodbye. I won’t stay.” The words were soft, but Mateo heard them.

  “Fine. Good enough. For now.” He turned to go to his car. “Follow me to your place and then I’ll drive down.”

  “I need to let Dani know,” I told him, dread bubbling inside me at the thought of facing her after I’d behaved like a neurotic two-year-old just moments before. But I couldn’t leave her like this.

  Chapter Eighteen

  Dani

  I couldn’t help listening to Rob and Mateo outside. I was stunned, as if my whole world had exploded when Rob had thrown that ladder, and my heart was still in my mouth. He’d told me about the injury, about his difficulty processing emotion. He had talked about stress and anger, but I hadn’t seen that side of it until now. It was terrifying and heartbreaking at once. I was guilty and wrong. I had caused it to happen by letting things go too far and then trying to protect my heart. I’d dealt with him like an unbreakable toy, when he was so much more fragile than he appeared.

  The strange thing was that Rob exploding in anger hadn’t lessened my attraction to him. If there had been any edge of psychosis, or any thought in my head that his fury might someday be directed at me—that he might be capable of hurting me—then things would be different. But as it was, the realization of Rob’s fragility made him somehow more attractive. Here was this huge strong man, virile and athletic, muscled and handsome, and he had this vulnerability that tore me apart, made me want to protect him.

  At the same time, I knew it wasn’t something I could do.

  I’d just stepped away from the door and moved to right the ladder when Rob came in behind me. The air was sucked out of the room as he stood there, eyes blazing and skin glowing with the vestiges of his anger and an obvious edge of sorrow.

  “Dani.” His voice was a rough raw wound.

  “Rob, I…” I stopped myself. I was going to apologize. But I hadn’t thrown a ladder. I’d only said what I’d needed to. What I had to. Why did it feel so wrong? Why did I want so much to cross the room and push myself into his arms?

  “I owe you an apology.” His words were measured and careful.

  I shook my head, dismissing it.

  “I need to relearn control.” He stood still, his eyes squinting slightly, and I knew he was searching for something else to say.

  “It’s okay,” I whispered, meaning both that his outburst was okay, and that he didn’t need to say anything else. I gripped the sides of the ladder I’d righted, just to give my hands something to do.

  He stepped closer, but then stopped, still just inside the door and far enough from me that I could only begin to feel the magnetic pull of him on my body. “I have to go home,” he began.

  “I know,” I said, and disappointment flooded me as he spoke the words aloud. The reality of it still hit me like a fist to the gut. “It’s okay. Amy has a carpenter. I can finish the work with him and still open on time. I’ll return the tools to Trent, you don’t need to worry about that.” I was planning aloud, and unable to l
ook directly into Rob’s face. Why did the idea of hiring another carpenter feel like cheating on Rob? “You can go, and you don’t need to worry about anything here.”

  “No, I—”

  My mouth kept on, my ridiculous coping device. Maybe if I talked enough, I wouldn’t feel the painful absence inside that was already growing in the place where Rob had been since I’d met him. “I hope things go well for you there. You deserve to be happy. It sounds like a wonderful opportunity. Maybe I’ll see you again some time. And Sampson.” I gazed out the door to where the big dog stood, peering in with those huge caramel eyes, mournful and sad now.

  Rob exhaled loudly, and dropped his head. It was almost like my words had deflated him, stolen whatever he’d been about to add from the space between us. His green gaze caught mine and held. The air between us vibrated and shook, tension growing in the tractor-beam of his gaze. And then he stepped forward quickly and stood just inches from me. I don’t know when it had changed, but my breath was suddenly coming in shallow gasps. I tried to calm it, but then Rob reached out and brushed a piece of hair from my cheek, tucking it behind my ear. He leaned down and placed his full soft lips on my forehead, searing the skin there and sending my heart hammering against my ribs. I held myself in, I couldn’t respond or we’d end up on the floor within seconds. I just stood like a block of marble and let his lips linger on my face, willing him to go and wishing at the same time that the simple gesture might go on forever. Because this, him touching me, his lips burning against my skin—this was simple. And so, so right.

  He stepped away. “Goodbye, Dani.”

  I watched him leave, Sampson’s liquid gaze holding mine as he followed Rob onto the sidewalk outside.

  When he was gone, the air stilled. And I shivered in the cold solitude his absence created inside my shop. In my life.

  …

  “Oh God, Dani…” Amy laid her head against the dark green fabric of our ancient couch, her skin glowing and her smile brighter than I’d seen it in a long time. Her glowing happiness made me feel even colder. “It was incredible. Trent is just so considerate, and so funny. Did you know he grew up on Coronado? We were practically neighbors.”