Page 2 of Rootbound
“I wasn’t. I just… we fell in love, and it was beyond our control. I don’t want to hurt you more. I just can’t stand the thought of you thinking you should’ve done anything differently. Iknowyou, Tait, I know you probably think you missed something, but you just have to understand that you didn’t. Please understand that. You’re fucking perfect, and always have been. After my dad died, and then your mom right after, I realized that we only get this life, and I realized I was more scared to not let myself feel than to face the consequences. I owe my life to you—I wouldn’t be who I am without you. I will always regret that I hurt you, and that I lost us, for us.”
I huff out a sigh. “I don’t know what you want me to say. Stop concerning yourself with what I might be thinking, or who I’m blaming and just please, please let this be the last of it all, Cole.” I hate how my voice shakes at the end of it. I want this to stop. I send up a silent prayer to be woken up, if this is all just a nightmare.
A tear wells over and falls from my eye, and I hate that, too. I quickly scribble the last signature.
He must sense my desperation for the emotional purge to stop, so he moves on.
“This was the last of everything for the house, so it should definitely be all of it, now. Allie’s brother is a notary and said he’ll verify everything for us. He’ll reach out for anything he needs…” He pauses, flicking his glance up to me and back down. “I don’t expect you to right away, but my mom has made it abundantly clear that she loves youmore than she loves me right now. I hope you’ll eventually have a relationship with her again. I know she misses you, too.”
I can’t muster up the emotional energy to address my relationship with Clara. I don’t want to dwell on how she has been more of a mother to me than mine was, how desperately I wish I had a mother to help pull me through this time, to eventually pester me aboutgetting out thereagain. I can’t marinate on how much I miss cooking with Clara, or how I miss her still wanting to take pictures of us all the time, even as adults.
Imissfeeling cared for, feeling precious to someone, and the self-loathing that this actualization brings me is a daily dose of acid, burning and sour.
I can’t get further into that now, weary as I am. So I haul my body out of my seat, turn away from the view, and say, “Bye, Cole. Be well.”
It occurs to me that for some sick reason Idowant him to be well. To grab his happiness and love with both hands and just go with it, because, despite my best judgment, despite the fact that I love myself enough to know that I deserve better… I still love that idiot, too. That boy who became a man, who held me through my mother’s death and the complicated grieving that accompanied it, who supported me pursuing a career (and then supported me flipping the switch and changing it, despite years of school and money going to the former). We grew up with each other. We used to joke about how lucky we were to have found great sex at sixteen—at least great chemistry that grew into great sex. To have grown up and still grownwitheach other. He and his family, our friends—it was all so…great. I never took it for granted. And now I know what it’s like to have no hopes for that kind of love again.
I believe him, that it was out of his hands to fall in love with her. I have to. Because believing that our life—and even more than that, our friendship—was all a lie, or just simply not enough… well, it would empty me out entirely.
Someone pass the bone saw.…
One
Tait
2 YEARS LATER
“If you don’t shut that thing off I swear to God, Tait, I will grab the next bottle of champagne that floats by and use it to smash it to pieces.”
Ava is concealed in giant shades, her waist length, beautiful, raven-black hair—hair that I still get jealous of as an adult—pulled into a messy bun, wearing no makeup, and suffering what appears to be an impressive hangover.
“Well, well, aren’t we chipper today?!” I laugh as I put my phone on silent. “It’s just my boss, couldn’t possibly be important or anything, but since you werequiteinsistent that you wanted to continue last night’s fun, here we are!”
She groans. “I was a completely different person then. I clearly don’t get out enough and let the evening get away from me. Also, you were keeping up with me. How areyouso perky?”
“I haven’t gone to bed yet. I might still be a littledrunk,” I explain.
To be fair, I’m rocking the same general look that she is: workout leggings, an oversized Fleetwood Mac tee, the same crazy-ass, wobbly bun on my head, sans makeup… but my bun is vaguely blonde, and I guess I’m just not radiating pain the same way she is.
“Ha. Nice. More like you didn’t have a three-year-old riding the high of his ring bearer power to wrangle into bed. He was on another level.”
“Not that I’d share this with the bride, but he did steal the show, didn’t he? Kid has some moves.” I pay tribute and mime his little robot routine.
She laughs. “His enthusiasm for the Ying-Yang Twins should probably make me reevaluate a few things.”
The waitress comes to the table, then, and offers a quick intro—Penelope or something, I think. Despite not being in quite as bad shape, I’m not exactly thriving at the moment, either. Still, I can’t help but poke the bear sometimes.
“Hair of the dog?” I say to Ava. “I know it’s hard to get past the idea, but one more is usually the cure.”
She laughs darkly. “You didnotjust quote our mother to me.” Then, turning a little green around the gills, “Fine, you order it though, I’m afraid to speak it.”
I smile up at the waitress—a cute platinum blonde with bright red lips and pretty doe eyes. She’s practically bouncing on her toes and is probably much too bubbly and bright to get stuck with the Logan sisters on this particular morning.
“Okay, we’ll do a round of mimosas, and we may as well start off with a good starch. Hit us with the cheese tots.”
“GRRRRRREAT choice! I’ll be right back with the mimosas and just let me know when you’re ready to order those meals, gals!” Penelope exclaims.
“Okay!” I wince and give her an awkward thumbs up in an effort to match her enthusiasm.