I struggle to swallow around the lump in my throat. “He went through my phone. He always claimed to be doing something else, but he was looking for evidence that I cheated or talked shit about him.”
Jake cusses under his breath. “I’m sorry. For what I did and that he put you through so much hell. That makes what I did worse.”
I lean more toward him. “I know you meant well.”
“It doesn’t matter what my intentions were. I did something that hurt you.”
I pitch forward, pressing into my hands and hunching my shoulders while looking over at him. “You know what really sucks about this? I think you’re genuinely a nice guy, but I’ve been jerked around so much that I don’t know what’s sincere anymore. I don’t know if you’re just saying sorry to appease me, or because it’s what you’re supposed to say, or because you want to play some trick so I’ll keep hooking up with you.”
Jake flattens his lips into a line, the sympathy in his expression both a comfort and something I wish didn’t have to exist. I don’t want him to feel sorry for me. “Maybe you need more time. And that would be okay. I can wait.”
My throat feels thick and I shake my head to clear it. “We don’t have that much time. You’ll be back to school and life and I don’t know what I’ll be doing.”
He whistles. “I don’t know what I’m doing either. We’re not so different, you know. You and I, we’re just two dandelion seeds floating on the breeze, looking for somewhere to land. Grow something beautiful. Get up when we’re ready and do it all again.”
I snap to look at him more directly. “That’s a good one. You’d think you’re the one with the MFA.”
He snorts. “That one’s on the house. If you’re nice, I’ll let you use it.”
“If I ever write again,” I say.
Jake looks at me more seriously. “You will. When you’re ready. Your parents think it should be now.”
“Ha. That was rich. It’s so easy for them to be all whimsical and ‘pursue your dreams’ when they don’t have to make ends meet.” I sigh, shaking my head. “They both have pretty juicy retirement funds. I don’t expect them to support me financially, but they had their high-paying jobs that let them retire like this.”
“Maybe they want you to be able to have more fun than they did.”
I tip my head to the side. “Probably, yeah. But it doesn’t change the facts. Writing alone doesn’t pay the bills.”
Jake’s eyes are soft. “What’s wrong with doing something just because you love it? Does everything have to make money?”
“Well, no, but getting an expensive master’s degree in something that doesn’t make money wasn’t the wisest thing. And they were the ones who pushed me to do it, without offering to bankroll it.” I close my eyes, sucking in the scent of sweetgrass, sunshine, and the muddy bank of the pond. “I know I sound spoiled and entitled, but it’s not quite that.”
“No, I get it,” he says. “They encouraged you to be a kid without giving you the environment to do it.”
I point at him. “You want to take over as my therapist? Because way to hit the nail on the head.”
“I try,” he says, nudging me with his elbow.
Our silence is filled by cicadas whirring, peepers peeping, the soft murmur of my family talking, and an occasional guitar chord where my cousin’s getting ready to play by the campfire. I swish my feet over the water, taking in the peaceful scene of my family just being together. I toss my hair and lean back to rest my pinky against Jake’s.
“What if this is it? What if everything we’re chasing after is right here? Sharing food and telling stories. Campfires and Wiffle Ball. Dipping our feet in the pond.” I wet my lips, scraping my teeth over them. “All we get told is if we want to be successful, we have to leave. So we spend our lives getting ready to go do something bigger and better, to be able to provide for ourselves and our families. But now I’m afraid I’ve had it all backwards this whole time. What if all this, the thing I was running from on the promise of something bigger—what if this is what it’s all for?”
Jake’s gaze bounces around, taking in our surroundings: the pond, my family, the mountains, the joy for the sake of it. His smile is soft when his eyes return to me. “Then I think this is a pretty good life.”
I chew my bottom lip. “We’re told ‘better’ is somewhere out there. Why did I spend so long running away, when I should have been running here as fast as my legs could carry me? How stupid was I?”
Jake puffs out his bottom lip. “Not stupid. Never stupid.”
I laugh. “Well, some things were pretty stupid.”
Jake lifts a shoulder. “Stupid led you back here. You wouldn’t know what you were missing if you hadn’t gone out there.” He looks me over again, and I take stock of his features like if I don’t count them, I’ll lose them: delicate hazel brown eyes with a dark ring around the iris, tan skin, crow’s feet, chiseled cheeks finished in impossible dimples. “I ran too. But if I hadn’t, I wouldn’t be sitting here on this dock, in this holler, between these mountains, with you and your wonderful family. And even if I did stupid things while I was out there, those things are worth it to be here now.”
Tears pinch behind my eyes, not the big boohoo kind, but the kind you get when you’re touched. “I wish we could have gotten here without all the heartache.”
“We all do. But it’s all part of the ride.”
My cousin starts playing a Keith Whitley ballad on the guitar, adding more sweetness to the moment. But I’m not finished exploring everything my mind’s turning over.
