Written in the Scars(39)
“He was trying to deal with things. He made a decision in the middle of a bunch of shit, just like I did, and just like you are doing. See how stupid that is?”
I start to talk, but he waves me off.
“And as far as you not doing anything to him . . .”
He looks at my stomach for a long moment. I flinch under his scrutiny, his observation piercing me to the point it almost hurts.
Covering my belly with my hand, to somehow protect my secret and my pride, I can’t respond to his insinuations. I’m terrified to go there.
He nods, tearing his eyes away from mine. “I’m sorry, Elin.”
A single tear drips down my cheek, the simple words the first time anyone has had the chance to comfort me since the loss besides Lindsay. The words are almost a warm blanket over my torn soul, soothing the ragged, lonely edges from losing something so precious.
I watch my friend watch me and we don’t say anything; he doesn’t muddy the moment by expressing his undying sorrow for me or by telling me it will be okay. He does what Cord does and just knows that his presence is enough. He’s there.
Sniffling, I stand again, this time my legs swaying a bit. A weight has been lifted somehow, just by someone else knowing what happened. But at the same time, a jut of fear begins to work its way into my gut.
“Cord,” I say, sniffling again, “please don’t say anything.”
“It’s not my place to tell. But Elin, you should tell your husband.”
The fact he calls Ty “my husband” doesn’t go without notice.
“I called him to tell him, but he wouldn’t answer,” I say sadly.
“He still deserves to know.”
“I’ll decide what he deserves to know,” I counter. “I had to go through losing that baby by myself. That was, by far, the hardest day of my life—harder than watching him leave or hearing the phone not pick up for days and days or asking about a divorce. And I did it alone. So I’m pretty sure I can decide how much of anything I want to do alone from here on out.”
He shakes his head, clearly not entertained by my little speech. “He shouldn’t have left, I agree. Most of the reasons he did it were completely selfish. But he was also trying to protect you.”
“Don’t go there with me, Cord,” I boom.
“Even if he wasn’t a full-blown addict, that shit f*cks up your brain. I get that he didn’t want to go off it in front of you. Even if he’d just been taking it a few weeks straight, he’d have some bad days. He knew that and didn’t want you seeing it. That would’ve f*cked you up.” He furrows his brows. “You don’t think if he knew about the miscarriage he wouldn’t have come back? Because I guarantee you that boy would’ve been here. Guarantee it.”
I wipe the tears away that are coming fast and hard now. “I didn’t want him back to comfort me if he didn’t want to be here, and he clearly didn’t.”
“You aren’t being fair.”
“Life’s not fair, Cord. Don’t we both know that?”
He swipes his coat off the chair and heads to the door, his temple pulsing. With his hand on the knob, he turns to look at me.
“Don’t make decisions because you just want to end the pain. Don’t lose Ty because you’re mad or hurt or confused. Be the smart girl I know you to be.”
The door twists open and the cool night air hits me in the face. I’m not sure if it’s the chill in the breeze or the stark reality of Cord’s words that has me shivering.
TY
The gym door is propped open with a large trash can. It’s Jason’s doing. The kid practices so hard he pukes almost every night. Within an hour of the start of drills, he runs to the door and loses his dinner in the can.
Every. Night.
He works his tail off, not just because he has colleges looking at him for scholarships, potentially giving him a way out of this town when he couldn’t afford it otherwise. But his jump shot also has given him a sort of fame in the area. Everyone knows his name, knows “Jason from Jackson,” just like once upon a time they knew a Ty from here too. The only difference is I’ll do everything in my power to see him do more than just mine coal ten years from now.
And that starts with walking in here tonight.
The moon hangs bright above, the sound of balls hitting the rubberized gym floor echoing across the parking lot. I tighten my jacket over me, trying to fill the hollowness in my chest as much as I’m trying to keep the cool air out.
I’m empty. I’m a shell, a ghost of a life that I once lived so vibrantly. But the difference tonight as opposed to the many nights before is this: I can feel me somewhere inside my body. The spark I used to feel when I woke up and looked at my day—at spending the morning mining coal next to Jiggs and Cord, dinner with Elin before practice later—is back. It’s flickering, growing, starting to burn as my confidence, the realization that I’m going to have to take my life back by the horns or watch it slip away becomes ever apparent.
And I’m not about to watch Elin or these boys drift away.
As much as I hate that Elin met with Parker, and I hate even more that I had to hear it from Pettis, it was exactly what I needed to get my shit straight.
The halogen bulbs glitter as I enter the gymnasium. Sneakers squeak against the floor as Reynolds’ whistle screams.