Push(94)

I drop off the edge of the bed and down on to my knees in front of him, working my way in between his legs. He releases his waist as I lean in against his chest. My arms slide around him, squeezing his rib cage, and I feel his hands move through my hair and brush against my scalp. My face is pressed into him so that he can’t see me cry. I can’t help it. The tears pour from my eyes, and I have to try hard to keep the sobs from shaking through me. I sniff and his body tenses. He lifts my head away from his body and looks down at me, his brow wrinkling at the sight of my tears.
“Why are you crying?” he asks. He looks so confused.
“Because I’m sad for you, David. I’m sad that you were hurt so many times.” The amount of surprise on his face startles me.
“You shouldn’t be sad, Emma,” he says, wiping his thumbs across my cheeks. “All those things that happened—they shaped me. If those women hadn’t failed me, as you put it, I would not be here with you. I wouldn’t be strong enough to be with you. I wouldn’t be able to recognize how different you are. How different you make me feel. How different I am when I’m with you. I am not the same person I was when I was with Anna or Kelsey or even Lucia. And that is because of you, Emma. You.”
David holds my face and looks down at me for a long time. My mind is cluttered with thoughts of these women and David’s words. As I collect myself, I realize that the tears falling down my cheeks are no longer out of sadness. They are out of pride and happiness and love. Love for this man who has put my very own emotions into words.
“I know what you mean,” I say with a small smile, “because that’s exactly how I feel.”
His lips press into a small grin, and I can see both hope and uncertainty on his face. He is still unsure of us. Somehow, I’m going to have to prove to David that I am never going to fail him. That I am more sure of my love for him than I have ever been of anything else.
“It’s late,” he says. As he stands, he pulls me up and hugs me.
“Are you leaving?” I ask.
“You need to sleep—but I’m not tired,” he says quietly. “As long as it’s okay with you, I’ll stay until you fall asleep and then I’ll go back and help the guys clean up and count. But I’ll be here when you wake up tomorrow morning.”
“Good,” I say. “I like to wake up with you sleeping in my bed. You look like a little boy when you’re asleep.”
“Is that so?” he says, pulling away from me and tilting his head to the side.
“Yes. A sweet little sleepy boy—all covered in birds,” I say to him with a coy smile. “My bright little bird,” I add, recalling his mother’s nickname for him when he was small. His eyes immediately leave mine and sink to the floor. I regret my comment instantly. What a stupid f*cking thing to say.
David lets go of me and steps away. I think he is going to say something, but his lips remain closed. He lies down, puts his hands behind his head, and crosses one straight leg over the other. I don’t want to say anything else, so I get ready for bed, set my alarm, and switch off the lamp. I snuggle my head on to his chest and wrap my arms and legs around him. His arm drops down from his head and cradles my shoulders as he pulls me into his chest.
“I should tell you about my mom someday,” he says very quietly. “Maybe tomorrow.” I hear a twinge of eagerness in his voice, and I think that maybe my comment wasn’t so f*cking stupid after all. “I’ll pick you up from work. We can go somewhere fun.”
“Okay,” I say, planting a small kiss on his chest through the fabric of his hoodie.
“Good night, Emma.”
“Good night.”



chapter Thirty-Nine

Maggie

I am standing on this bridge thinking about my life and wondering how things got so far off track. I wasn’t supposed to stay in this hellhole of a town, married to a man who will never amount to anything more than what he already is. I was supposed to be in Rome or London or New York City long ago, leading a life filled with excitement and meaning and brilliance. But instead, I am here. In the same town I grew up in, where everything is dull and achingly mundane and colorless. Where every day is filled with the same old crap. The same old loneliness. Even my bright little bird can’t change that.
Shep and I met twelve years ago when I was working at the diner, hoping to make enough tips for a bus ticket out of this place. From that day on, we spent every second we could together, talking about all the places we were going to go. All the places we were going to live. Paris, Johannesburg, Moscow—our plan was to go somewhere, anywhere, and find a job that would earn us just enough to buy a ticket to our next destination. We were going to travel the world together. But first, Shep said he had to go to trade school. He had to learn a universal trade that he could use in any of the places we wanted to go, that would make him money wherever we went. So he dropped out of community college and enrolled in a technical school. He needed two years to become a carpenter. Two years and we would be out of here; on our own and living the adventurous life we both desired. I worked at the diner while he went to school, and we moved in together to save on rent. We lived over McMillan’s Grocery, and we cooked our meals on a hot plate and made love every night. We were happy knowing that the life we were living was not going to be forever. Shep asked me to marry him a year after we met, and my mother’s minister performed the ceremony in her living room a few weeks later. We declared our eternal love for each other on my mother’s green shag carpet. I was wearing a blue dress, and Shep was in his only suit. He had to borrow a tie from my brother.