This Close to Okay(31)

While he was in the bathroom changing, Tallie picked his phone up off the floor, clicked to see if it was locked. Yes. His background, a default photo of the earth. She turned to make sure the bathroom door stayed closed. She tried 1234 to unlock his screen. Nope. And no notifications. Nothing. She heard him move around in the bathroom, and she put his phone back. She went to her bedroom, got his letters from the top drawer of her dresser. His green rain jacket hung on the hook by the front door. She couldn’t remember which letter went where, but she split them up, putting one in the inside pocket and one in the outside. She prayed Emmett wouldn’t come out of the bathroom at that moment, and she huffed out a breath of release when, thankfully, he didn’t. She returned to the couch.

*



“Can I ask you a question? About yesterday?” she asked him gently after he came out of the bathroom and sat next to her, but not too close.

“Sure.”

“Do you feel like being on the bridge was a proportionate response to whatever it was that sent you there?” She knew her question probably sounded too much like a question a therapist would ask, so she turned the TV volume down and added, “There’s no right answer, by the way. I’m just curious.”

“I do,” he said easily.

“How else do you deal with stress in your life? How did you handle your wife’s death when it happened?”

“I haven’t properly handled her death yet, really. I can’t. I try, I guess…but none of it makes sense. She was there and now she’s just gone? Everything gets too slippery. My brain can’t…hold it. It feels both final and eternal at the same time. I can’t process it so I just let it…sit there…dark.”

“I understand,” Tallie said and paused. “Emmett, do you feel compelled to go back to the bridge?”

“Right now? No.”

“Do you have anyone you share your feelings with? Anyone you can trust?”

“I used to…Hunter…we lived together before I got married, but I don’t talk to many people anymore,” he said.

“Why not?”

“I don’t have a short answer for that.”

“But you have a long one?” she asked.

“Maybe.”

“Okay. Do you wish you could talk to someone you could trust?”

“I’m naturally quiet,” he said.

“Do you like being naturally quiet?” she asked, digging in like they were in her office and she was getting paid to learn every little thing about him.

“No one has ever asked me that before. I think so?”

“And I get it. I understand. You’re clearly a self-soother, but everyone needs someone. We need each other. It’s not good to feel abandoned or alone.”

“I don’t feel abandoned or alone right now. I really don’t,” he said.

“Have you ever considered therapy?”

“I’ve been to groups where people sit in a circle and talk about their feelings. I don’t like them. Have you been?”

“I’ve been in therapy sessions before…in the past, yes,” Tallie said, her blood tingling.

“Was it good for you?”

“Yes. Very much so. A game changer. But it was one-on-one therapy. Have you tried that? Do you think it could help?”

Emmett shrugged.

“Have you been single ever since you lost your wife?” she asked. She was so curious about Brenna, trying to find a way to get him to mention who she was.

Emmett held up his no-wedding-ring hand.

“I know you’re not married, but not even a girlfriend?”

“Do I seem like the kind of guy who could be a decent boyfriend?”

“Well, you’re an amazing cook, charmed yourself out of a traffic ticket, and you do dishes, so yeah, maybe,” she said, thinking of him in that towel, how his hair was almost dry now. Thinking of his thighs beneath the soft gray fabric of those pants intended for Joel. Now Odette bought Joel’s clothes, knew his sizes, knew not to buy him cologne because it got everywhere.

“But what if I’m only doing that stuff to impress you, Tallie?”

“You’re not,” she said, leaning into that dreamy fog of friendly flirtation.

“My mama raised me right.”

“Clearly,” she said. The fog cooled quick at the thought of his poor mother. “That’s why I can’t bear the idea of her getting a suicide letter from you in the mail when you’re here, perfectly fine.”

“Thanks, but it’s not for you to worry about, so don’t. Can we talk about something else? Please?”

“Yes,” she said, turning the TV up for a moment before muting it. “Should I be scared of anything you have in your backpack?”

“Absolutely not,” he said.

“But you won’t tell me what’s in there?”

“It’s unremarkable, really. Nothing that would mean anything to anyone but me.”

“Okay,” she said, nodding and eyeing him a bit longer. He didn’t seem uncomfortable with it, and she liked that; it made her feel safe.

“I like this. I’ve always liked this,” Emmett said, allowing some quiet before the subject change. He was pointing to the framed postcard sitting under the creamy glow of the lamp next to them.