Finding Us

by Allie Juliette Mousseau

  He wasn’t looking at me anymore. Instead he was studying the lines in the hardwood flooring.

  “How many times have you lied to me since? Coming in late from the ranch, saying you’re too tired to make love to me, watching television instead of talking to me … being with me. God, we’ve only been together for like a month—is this what it’s going to be like forever?” I hadn’t wanted to say all of that. I had wanted to go on pretending everything was fine, because I was scared to death of where this was leading. “You said you weren’t leaving me but, consciously or subconsciously, you are.”

  “Don’t you think I need any time for myself? I need to think!”

  “What are you thinking about, Nate?” I spat back. “Because you haven’t told me anything that’s going on in your head for two weeks!”

  “Go back to bed, Jules, you’re acting hysterical. We’ll talk more in the morning.”

  That was a fucking insult! I crossed my arms over my chest. “I’m not hysterical, you just don’t like the truth.”

  “Fuck this, I’m going to sleep,” he said, starting to turn over again.

  “You better not turn away from me or give me your back or you’re going to be in a world of hurt!” I warned.

  He rolled his eyes, but lay down on his back. After a moment of staring at the ceiling he closed his eyes.

  I nodded, stomped back to the bedroom, yanked my pillows and blanket off the bed and planted myself on the floor next to the couch.

  “What the hell are you doing?”

  “Needing space is one thing—and I’ve given it to you in spades—this here is just plain and simple running. And I’m not going to let it happen.”

  A couple minutes passed in silence.

  Finally, Nate said, “I’m not going to let you sleep on the fucking floor.”

  “Then come back to bed with me.”

  “I don’t want to go back in there either,” he confessed.

  “Seems like we have a stalemate.”

  “Come on, get up on the couch with me.” He pulled at my blanket.

  “I’m fine down here,” I said stubbornly.

  “Yeah, hardwood is real comfortable. Now come up here.”

  I crawled on top of him, and he shifted so I fell in the crack between him and the couch. He held me tightly and I felt my tense body begin to relax in his embrace. I felt like, despite everything, this was where I belonged. Mom said it; I would need to hold on. This was me, holding on. I wouldn’t let go. But I was scared. Scared he would handle all difficult situations like this. Scared he’d never let me in. Would I be able to hold on then?

  Would it be enough?

  I woke to Caleb’s hushed voice coming from the kitchen. “I’m just telling you she’s not happy. I catch her crying and shit all the time. You guys are getting married in a month. Maybe you should postpone it to work through this shit. Why the fuck are you in such a rush?”

  “Rush,” Nate echoed.

  My breath caught in my throat. Postpone the wedding? Is that what Nate wanted? It definitely wasn’t what I wanted—my heart hurt just thinking about it.

  “My dad’s not going to kill you. Live together for a while.”

  “Living together is fine for some people, but I don’t want that for me and Jules. She deserves more than that. She deserves all of me.”

  That made me feel better.

  “Then you should think about actually giving her all of you.”

  “Caleb, what the fuck? I’m trying.”

  Yeah, Caleb, I thought. Keep your opinions out of it.

  “Come on, man, you’ve been in a fog since you came home. Your mind isn’t on the job, you haven’t been yourself since Vegas and you’re either taking naps in the barn or taking off to God knows where.”

  “Shut up, Caleb,” Nate said softly.

  “Maybe you thought you were in love, but then when things started to get tough—”

  I heard the sound of the kitchen chair scrape across the floor. “For fuck’s sake, you know how much I love Jules. Yeah, I have a serious issue with avoidance and I’m not sleeping very well. What do you want from me?” Nate’s voice was rising. “I’m doing my best here.”

  My heart ached and twisted at the pain in Nate’s voice. He was trying. When he scooped me into his arms last night, he’d proven he was trying to let me in, or at least not push me away completely. But because Caleb knew us both so well, he had pretty much hit the target, dead center and deep down inside I was starting to panic. If Nate kept running away, we could both be lost in the darkness of our separate worlds again without the light of the stars to guide us back together.

  Caleb rescued me from the steep downward spiral of my thoughts. “I know you love her. I’m sorry, I shouldn’t have said that. It was stupid,” he apologized.

  “Yeah, you’re a dumbass.”

  Silence

  “You’ll figure it out, bro. I know you will,” Caleb said finally. “I’ll catch you later.”

  “Alright.”

  I heard the door open and close. Nate let out a loud sigh and a moment later called out in the same volume they’d been talking, “Jules?”

  I didn’t say a word.

  The wedding was in less than a month. The barn had been cleaned out and decorated with strands of white lights inside and out. Chairs with burgundy cloth covers lined both sides of the barn, and white satin ribbon lined the aisles and made canopies on the ceiling next to round, white, cloth lanterns. It was beautiful, and the knowledge that Nate and I had made love here was a heady little secret between the two of us. The flowers would come the night before the wedding, and a few nights before that, my family—Jake, Livie, Piper (who I now considered family), Josh, Sam and Will—would all be flying in. I wanted to keep everything simple and intimate. Nate agreed, so we’d only invited immediate family and a few close family friends—less than one hundred guests were attending.

  Mom had hired her favorite caterer.

  I’d had the final fitting for my Valentino gown. The heart shaped bodice was extremely flattering, with a thin ribbon around the waist. It was shaped like a princess ball gown, with embroidered lace on tulle and Swarovski crystals decorating the full bodice and spilling down throughout the dress in delicate flower and lace patterns. It was long and billowy and very romantic.

  Nate was going to wear a black tux with a silk, emerald green shirt and accents. He was going to look amazing.

  If we made it.

  He was still holding onto what was haunting him. To compound matters I could see he was feeling guilty for doing it, which made him distance himself even further. And we were both stressed, arguing about the stupidest petty things: which side of the sink the dish soap belonged on, how to hang the toilet paper roll, my bras soaking in the sink, burnt dinner, forgetting shit at the store. Mom said it was just a natural adjustment when two independent people moved in together and it was totally normal—arguing, bickering, heatedly discussing (which is what she liked to call shouting), all of it—because every good couple did it, just like sex. It cleaned out the communication pipes, she said, and wasn’t making up the best part?

  But it wasn’t about us making up, it was the disconnect in our communication. It felt like the little silly stuff was just sort of covering the real issue. I still felt like we had never gotten past that incident with Lady Luck. How could one, seemingly innocent moment create such a hurdle between two people who loved each other? I remembered Mom saying I’d have to hold on and not let go, and I was so prepared for that fight … but was Nate? Would he hold on to me and not let go? What if he cracked under the weight of his pain? And this was just the first trigger we’d come across, how many more would there be? How could we ever work them out and fight against them together if his only survival mechanism was pushing me further away. How far could he go before he walked out on me altogether? The thoughts gnawed painfully at the back of my mind, making me raw.

  Then, on top of it, I was fighting a flu bug that I just coul
dn’t shake.

  Lady Luck was doing better. While Nate was at work—and without his knowledge—I’d go over and visit her every day. She had been recovering in leaps and bounds and just recently the vet had brought her home for regular physical and occupational therapy. She thought that maybe in another week or two she’d be able to go to a Border Collie rescue on the other side of the state.

  I hadn’t heard Nate come in when the vet and I were talking it over on the phone. By the time I saw him standing behind me, listening to how much I wanted to keep Lady Luck myself, and making excuses as to why it wasn’t possible at this time, and wasn’t there a closer rescue for her to be placed in … it was too late. He’d heard everything.

  “You’ve been seeing the dog?” Nate asked after I hung up.

  “Yes,” I confessed. Why did I feel like I’d been cheating or something? “I didn’t think you’d mind. She’s just a puppy, not even a year old yet. The assholes that had her really hurt her. They bred her and did a bad cesarean, then left her for dead. I’ve been making sure she’s getting good care. In fact I’m paying for it.”

  “Why would you keep that a secret from me?” he asked, visibly upset.

  “I didn’t want to hurt you over it,” I answered truthfully.

  “Didn’t you trust me? That’s like going behind my back.”

  “Trust you? It’s just a dog and I knew you’d be upset. It’s not like I’ve been keeping some huge secret. What about you sleeping in the barn and going off alone all the time?” As soon as the words flew out of my mouth, I cringed.

  “You were awake!” Nate accused.

  “You guys got loud.”

  “You know, for someone who’s so upset about my secret going ons, you have quite a lot of your own!” he shot back at me.

  “What’s that supposed to mean? There isn’t even a comparison!”

  “It means that we’re both avoiding a lot of real fucking issues. I get that mine are way worse than yours—mine are dark and full of hell—but if you look at it objectively for just one minute, you’ll see that we’re doing the exact same thing—keeping important pieces of ourselves hidden in fear of hurting the other person.”

  I sat slowly at the kitchen table, absorbing what he was saying.

  “Why does it take things getting this bad for us to see it clearly?” he continued as I traced my finger quietly over the wood grain of the tabletop. “You should be having the time of your life right now. And I’m ruining it.”

  “We both should,” I put in quietly.

  “Honestly, Jules, none of this even has to do with you and me or our relationship, none of it! It’s all internal shit that we’re not laying on the table, and we’re both allowing guilt to eat us up inside, and then we’re taking it out on each other.”

  “I’m not the one—” I started to throw out.

  “You still haven’t told your mom and dad about quitting school. Why? You don’t think your own guilt is part of this? You also haven’t told them about your writing. I think we’re both guilty.”

  I opened my mouth to say something, to let all the blame fall on him, but he was right.

  “We can’t keep doing this to ourselves or each other. I love you way too much,” he said decidedly. “Do you want to keep the dog?” he added suddenly. “Because it sounds like you do. Want to keep her.”

  He was demanding honesty, so I’d jump. “Yes, I love her to pieces. It felt like I found her for a reason, but I’ll get over it. I don’t want to do anything that would jeopardize us. I know you don’t really like dogs.”

  He looked like he was considering my words.

  “I just want to make sure she gets a chance to have a good life. She didn’t deserve what she was dealt. She’s just a baby.”

  “A baby.” He nodded and started pacing. “Kids need dogs, don’t they?”

  What?

  “Kids definitely need a dad,” he said with finality.

  “Nate?”

  He shook his head. “I’m still not sure how I can give either of those things.”

  There were those words again. They cut, and even though he loved me, I felt like he used them as an exit strategy. Isn’t that what had kept us apart for so long? Him loving me and thinking I should have someone better than him? Panic constricted my throat. “Nate, come on, please don’t say that. You know I said I don’t need kids.” But was that really true? Was I being honest with him, with myself? No, if I was honest I’d tell him that creating a baby from our love would be the most beautiful, poetic gift we could ever be given, but my heart hurt and I was confused. I knew I’d say anything to make everything alright.To make him feel safe. He was no stranger, this was Nate, and he was the other half of my soul. The thought of losing him terrified me.

  He stopped and took my face in his hands. “I know you want to help me, and you have, so much more than you know, but there are some things I have to do on my own and so do you.”

  “Nate, you’re scaring me. I don’t understand what you’re saying.” With my face locked in his hands I searched his eyes for understanding, so afraid of where he was going with this.

  “I’m saying we can’t walk down the aisle with all the pressure of these thoughts underneath the surface, ready to blow. I keep pushing you away, and we can’t live like that, it sets us up for a relationship that’s doomed to fail.” He rubbed my cheeks with his thumbs. “I’m saying I’m sorry I’ve hurt you, Julia.” He took a deep breath. “Again. And I’m saying I should have done this a long time ago.” He kissed my forehead and, with a sad expression, turned and walked out the front door, shutting it behind him.

  I stared at the door in shock. What the hell just happened? Did he just leave me? I couldn’t wrap my head around this! Tears were burning my eyes and I started to shake. My God, are we over, just like that?

  “NATE!” I started to go after him, but a sudden wave of nausea hit me so forcefully I had to race to the bathroom.

  Chapter 20

  “I Won’t Back Down”

  Tom Petty and the Heartbreakers

  Nate

  Enough was enough! I’d read the books. I knew what I had to do. Yet I kept making mistake after mistake. I finally realized it was because I was holding myself back, and it was killing me. I had let myself go into my default mode and numb over every emotion ever since I saw that black clump of fur draped over Jules’ lap. Then as if that wasn’t enough, I got slammed with the news of Livie’s pregnancy and instead of being a great brother and uncle, I became a dick. The Universe or God was lighting neon signs in front of my face and they all read, “HEY, NATE! DEAL WITH YOUR SHIT!” But uncovering that shit was hard, so hard. And now I was hurting Jules, and that was the last thing I ever wanted to do.

  I reached into my truck and grabbed my cell phone.

  If I wanted to be truly healed and feel emotions untainted by numbness or terror, I’d have to feel all the emotions I’d been avoiding too and accept them all, good and bad, as a package deal. That meant love and hate, happiness and anger, fear and safety. And, most importantly, I had to be able to differentiate between the emotions that were real and the ones that were a part of my warped perception. In reality I shouldn’t be terrorized by a dog or a baby, or at the prospect of me becoming a father someday. It wasn’t reasonable or realistic for me to be terrified for Jules’ welfare—she was safe, she was happy. Well, she had been. But when my nightmares starred Jules in the lead role, I lost my grip and went back to what I knew, keeping her safe, especially from me. I had withdrawn from her more and more. And, damn it, it wasn’t acceptable.

  “Hello, I’d like to make an appointment please,” I said to the receptionist at the mental health clinic in Minot. It was one of the best in the state. “Yes, with Dr. Martin Bover please. Thank you.”

  When we first got back after getting engaged, I knew I was going to need an extra hand pulling myself out of my private hell before I yanked Jules down into the pit with me. Dr. Bover came highly recommended and was an ex
pert in treating adult survivors of child abuse. But I hated the stigma attached to seeing a shrink. I hated the idea of the guys finding out. I hated that I wasn’t man enough to resolve my own problems. But now, seeing the hurt and confusion in Jules’ eyes over the last few weeks, I knew I had to be man enough to admit that the things that happened when I was growing up weren’t ever going to resolve themselves. And a real man would get help.

  “Thank you, next week is perfect.”

  When I hung up, I entered the time and date of the appointment in my phone’s calendar, tossed it on the seat and went back in to get Jules. I knew what had to happen next and she needed to be with me.

  “Jules!” I called out, walking through the front door. She didn’t respond, but I heard her, and it sounded like she was crying. I rushed to the bedroom and found her sobbing into her hands. “Baby, what’s wrong?” I knelt in front of her and tried peeling her hands from her face.

  “I thought you left.”

  “Left? What do you mean?”

  “You said you had to do it on your own … I just figured you’d had enough.”

  “Had … enough? You thought I was leaving you?”

  “You haven’t been very happy lately.” She blew her nose, curled up and rolled away from me as she fell apart.

  Next to her laid a time-weathered sketchbook, it was opened to a colored pencil drawn feather with ten small, colorful birds above it. A jade green bird flew closest to a soft pink bird. It was Jules’ tattoo. It was dated from when she was sixteen.

  In that moment, in spite of everything, I found myself smiling over how much she loved me, and ecstatic because I knew that together we could take on the world. We were going to make it all work.