Page 94 of Warrior's Walk
“No. Maybe. Rationally, no, but if she can’t see it, then it’s all for nothin’, it don’t even matter.”
“Of course it matters. And I’m not convinced she can’t see it, either. What do you think?”
This is what therapists do; they turn shit around on you so that you have to answer your own questions. It’s fucking infuriating. If I had all the answers, I wouldn’t fucking be here.
“I think… I think she always knew I was capable of doin’ my best, and she always believed in me.” I’m losing my grip again, and a fresh round of tears rushes forth. My face feels hot and I’m a little dizzy from the pressure in my head. “I think she can see me and she knows.”
“I think you’re right,” Brewer agrees. “I think your mama and your Brian, my Eric, Riggs’s Mark, and Nash’s Victor, I think they all see us very clearly. I think they’re watching over us, and I think we’re going to be alright.”
All I can do is nod as I blow my nose again. Brewer reaches for the wastebasket beside his chair and hands it to me. I chuck my snotty pile of tissues into it and reach for another.
”Is this normal? Am I supposed to fall apart like this over the littlest thing?”
“Your grief isn’t little, nor is your love for your mother. Grief is fluid, and it’s immeasurable. One person’s grief isn’t the same as another’s. Whatever you’re feeling is completely normal and you have to give yourself time and space to feel your feelings.” He gets up and crosses the room to the small fridge next to his desk, grabbing a bottle of water. Brewer hands it to me and I gulp it down gratefully. “The more you talk about it, the moremanageable it will feel. Grief is a heavy burden to carry, and it helps to lighten the load by sharing it with others.”
He’s right. I know he’s right. But every time I talk about her, I cry again, and I’m fucking sick to death of crying. Sick of it.
“My door is open to you anytime, or we could schedule a regular visit. Twice a week, maybe?”
Oh, he’s good. Real good.“Sounds good, Brewer.”
Rhett wrapshis arms around my waist, sliding his hands into my back pockets to squeeze my ass. He smiles up at me, a real one, not the fake ones he pastes on when people ask how he’s feeling.
“Thank you for puttin’ this together for me. She would have loved it.”
I scan the back deck, taking in the brightly colored mylar balloons, the golden velvet cloth that covers the food table, and best of all, the life-size cardboard cutout of Retta and Clark Gable that I photoshopped to look like they were standing side-by-side.
There are fresh-cut flowers on every table, and theBluetoothspeaker plays Bruce Springsteen’s greatest hits.
“My mama sure did love Bruce. The Boss,” he recalls fondly. “She always said he could wear a pair of jeans well. I think that meant she liked his ass,” he chuckles.
I can’t help but laugh with him. Retta was a piece of work.
I tried to copy her recipe for pecan blondies, but when Rhett took a bite and smiled kindly, chewing cautiously as his face pinched, I knew I’d missed the mark. I’m sure the Bitches will devour them since they have nothing better to compare them to.
It’s amazing how large our circle has grown—our family, really. In addition to all the many Bitches and their partners, Liza is here, a whole host of Rhett’s buddies from base, and even a few of the guys from Serenity House. Brian, from the Tavern, and Rand. The fucker is staring at me. Great, he’s making his way over here.
“Thanks for comin’,” Rhett says cordially. “It’ll feel good when all this is behind me and we can get back up in the air again.”
“Making you feel good is my top priority.”
He smirks at me as he says it. This motherfucker knows exactly what he’s doing. He waits until Rhett walks away before saying what he’s really thinking.
“It’s a good thing you finally got your head out of your ass. I thought I would actually have to sleep with him to get your attention.” He chuckles, having no idea how close he is to serious bodily injury. I have an urge to put him in an urn right beside Retta.
“You purposely fucked with me?”Why?
“Of course. Did you really think I would poach your territory right in front of your nose? Even I’m not that stupid.”
“That’s debatable,” I grunt. “But what was the point?”
His gaze follows Rhett as he poses for a picture with his mama and Clark. “Because he’s perfect for you, and I know how much you love to think you always have to do the right thing.”
Asshole. He had me figured out all along. “Well, after careful consideration, I realize doing Rhett is the right thing.” I smirk and before I walk away to join Rhett, I flick Rand off. The sound of his laughter follows me, and I shake my head. His time will come, and I hope it’s messy and humiliating for him.
I hope I get to witness it firsthand, and I’m glad he turned out to be a real friend in the end.
I approach Rhett, West, Brandt, Nash, and Mandy, fixing them with a hard look.