“It’s okay.” It was Gabe’s voice, deep and firm. “You are okay.”
I kept my head hidden, not wanting him to see how red my eyes became or how my lips would swell across my face when I cried. I was an ugly crier.
“I don’t want guests to see me like this.” Always, as kids, we were taught to keep our arguments and our tears away from the guests. No one was being cruel by suggesting it as we had enough places to go that were private for family and we grew up understanding how things worked in hospitality.
I was lifted up by the strong arms I’d been thinking about far too much and buried my face into his chest, feeling sobs start to run through me. He carried me to the summerhouse, far easier than he should’ve, and then I was on his knee as he sat down on the wooden bench he’d made, feeling his arms around me as I cried.
Gabe didn’t give me words. There weren’t any words that could’ve healed me right then. The wound from the loss of Calen was deep, and although the surface looked only scarred, underneath it was still bloody. Marcy’s loss was ever-present, radiating stronger since going through the box and finding her letters.
My reality had changed.
“I’m sorry.” I forced the apology out.
“What the fuck for?” He sounded genuinely confused.
“For getting upset.”
His response was to hold me closer, almost rock me.
“I shouldn’t be burdening you. Your barely know me.” I put a hand to his chest and felt the muscle underneath. It was not how I imagined an architect to feel, not that I’d given too much thought to how architects felt under their clothes.
“I know a little of how you feel.”
I looked up at him even though I knew my eyes looked like they belonged to a red panda. “I’m not sure you do.”
He kissed the top of my head, pressing his lips down onto my hair. It was too familiar for someone who was only one step away from being a stranger. “No one’s told you what happened?”
“I’ve only been home a day.”
“It usually takes less time than that for the rumour mill to churn. Mavis in the bakery usually gives away a piece of gossip with the bara brith.” His pronunciation of the Welsh name made me smile.
“How do you know how I feel?”
Gabe shook his head, his face close enough to mine that I could see his eyes were a silvery blue that I’d never come across before.
“I was in a car accident. A drunk driver hit my vehicle head on. My passenger and the other driver both died. I was the only one who survived.”
Simple basic sentences. No elaboration, just facts. Facts that contained a history book of pain.
“How long ago?”
“Two and a half years.”
“Fuck.” I put my forehead back to his chest and closed my eyes, inhaling his scent, feeling his skin against mine.
He leaned back against the wooden wall and held me close. For the longest time we sat there together, neither of us having anything to say, because we both knew that sometimes there were no words. Only the birds sang, and the waves still echoed.
They always echoed.
Gabe
Holding her had made me feel as if my world had just been steadied on its axis. Seeing someone, anyone, upset wasn’t something I wanted. I didn’t get how to handle tears from another adult, hell, even a child’s tears made me feel as if my heart was being repeatedly shot, and seeing Anya sob had torn me.
But holding her had brought pieces of me together that had been scattered for so long, maybe calling some particles up that had been scattered years before. We’d stayed close long after she’d quieted. Her sitting on my lap, head pressed against my chest and my arms wrapped around her. Despite the one night stands I’d had, it was the longest physical contact I’d had with anyone since before the crash.
I went back to the barn after her nephew interrupted us. We didn’t talk about what had happened, simply disengaged the contact and went outside, like two lovers who had been caught in the act. I’d watched her chase him about the gardens as I hammered and nailed wooden pieces back into place, doubly insulating the walls to make it possible for kids to sleep over inside the summerhouse.
The walk back to the barn was a strange one. It was bright, the weather a perfect Welsh summer. The seagulls were high in the air, the wind insignificant meaning they could make the most of their skills.
