A Thousand Letters(33)

10





Bring It On Home





Home is not a place,

Not a smell,

Not a face,

But a space

In your heart.



* * *



-M. White





* * *



Elliot

My hands were ice in my pockets as we walked in silence, his thoughts rolling off him in waves as we walked through the park, saying nothing.

He was right, and he was wrong. True and false. Yes and no. The words warred through him, through me.

The fight was the same as the last we'd had, and the years had changed little about it. He was the same as he always was; there was nothing I could say to change his mind. There never had been, though I wished I'd given him the answers he'd wanted so long ago. But the ship had sailed and left me on the shore. And his words now were right, and they were wrong.

He was still angry, still hurt, and even as he spoke of the ways he wished me to change, he pulled me closer. Hot and cold. One extreme or the other.

I was left reeling.

My breath was shallow, my chest hollow, my pain dull and aching. I could think of nothing to say; there was nothing to defend. But I found no words of agreement either.

Same fight, but everything else was different, somehow more true than it had been the first time, his words an arrow, sharp and barbed, running me through.

How could I explain that when he'd left, he'd taken me with him? How could I tell him he was all I wanted, and when he was lost to me, I lost all hope?

I couldn't. I could barely whisper the words to my own heart, never mind where his ears would hear.

So I walked next to him in the cold, feeling ashamed and wrong, feeling that I'd been put back in my place. I accepted it, shrinking back into that small space where I could hide, disappear, even though he'd asked me not to while he pushed me into the role with his own hands.

I didn't know how to exist any other way, not anymore. My light had gone out when he left me years before.

I was turned so inward that I didn't feel that his frustration had ebbed, softened, though the tension between us snapped as we approached the steps to his house.

He stopped in front of me, bringing me to a halt.

"Elliot, wait."

My heart thumped in my throat as I waited for him to speak, looking up into his hard face.

He grappled with something — I could see it behind his eyes as they searched my face, in the set of his lips as the seconds ticked by. He didn't know what to say any more than I did. But at least he was strong enough to try.

"I … I'm sorry. I didn't mean to upset you. Your choices, your wishes are none of my business, and they haven't been for a long time."

The heat in my cheeks spread. "You weren't wrong."

He looked down. "I'm not right either."

I could feel his regret, his hurt, and I only wanted to take it away. I only wanted to make him whole again.

I only wished I knew how.

"Wade, really," I soothed. "It's all right. This … this isn't easy for any of us. Least of all you. Don't worry about me."

He met my eyes, gray and cool as snow. "I always have. Can't stop now."

I opened my mouth to speak, but he turned and started up the stairs.

"I really am sorry. For all of this," he said with his back to me, and then he opened the door, leaving me standing on the step, my soul staggering.

After a breath, I gathered myself up and walked in behind him, hearing a new voice from the library.

"Ben?" Wade muttered, hanging his jacket hastily before striding away with bewilderment on his face.

I watched his profile as he stood in the threshold of the room for a second, face illuminated by the sunlight streaming in the window, and he lit up from the inside with pure joy.

I didn't move until he bolted into the room, laughing.

I hung up my coat and hat and stepped into the room to find him embracing a man whom I'd never seen before. He was as tall as Wade, with dirty blond hair cut almost identically, and he smiled a big, gleaming smile as they clapped each other on the back before pulling away.

"What the hell are you doing here?" Wade asked, grinning like a little boy on Christmas morning. I found myself smiling too, infected by their happiness, by the lightness in the room.

Ben smirked and shrugged, stuffing his hands in his pockets. He looked dashing, cavalier, without a care in the world, though his eyes hid a heaviness and sadness behind their twinkle and spark.

"Thought you could use backup. That, and I'm a terrible listener."

Wade laughed again, shaking his head as he looked Ben over. "Goddamn, I can't believe it. I mean, I can believe it, but I didn't think …"

He was still smiling, though it shifted, colored with unsaid understanding. "Good to see you too."

Wade stepped around him to display him to the crowded room. Sadie sat at Rick's feet on the bed, and Sophie sat in an armchair. Lou waited on the couch, apparently next to where Ben had been. Consequently, she was looking at him like he was a warm chocolate chip cookie.

Selfish relief slipped over me at the thought of her being interested in Ben rather than Wade.

"How long have you been here?" Wade asked Ben. "Have you met everyone?"