For a moment it works. Our bickering, this mutual dissatisfaction with fate and the Grim Reaper, allows us a split-second of reprieve.
Then, it passes.
The illusion of normal dissipates, and the reality of heartache and potentially soul crushing decisions reappears.
“What are we going to do?” I whisper, staring blankly across the room, letting my vision blur to keep my eyes from catching on anything that might trip me up more. Never have so many inanimate objects had the power to shatter me. To leave me breathless.
The family pictures on the mantle. The wishing tree in the corner where Lena had the kids hang drawings and notes of all their hopes and dreams. The dirty saddle in the corner Trent probably brought in from his last ride to clean and oil up the next time he found himself in front of the television watching a baseball game.
I’m not looking at any of those things.
“I guess it all depends on one thing, one question.” Jovi sounds distant. A million miles away instead of two feet from where I sit.
“What’s that?”
“Can you live with saying no?”
I exhale, noticing only then how long I’ve been holding my breath. “No.”
JOVI
“You?” She looks to me for the first time since I sat down and this conversation became real.
“Does it matter? If you’re in, I’m in. That’s the only way this will work.”
“Jovi.” She presses her lips together until they form a thin line. The expression is familiar. It’s one she always wears when she’s eager to get to the point and avoid the bullshit.
“If you knew me as well as you think, Liz, you’d already know my answer.” I sigh, coming to terms with the choice I made the second I heard what my options were. “I’ve never said no when Trent needed me, same as he’s always come through for me. This is no different.”
She nods slowly. “Which is why he asked you.”
“Yep.” Because he knew I’d step up, even if it was hard. Even if I thought I would fail. He knew I would try.
Liz crumples into the overstuffed cushions of the sofa as if the tension of uncertainty was the only thing still holding her together. Now that it’s gone, she looks like she's lost all sense of solid matter.
“I’m moving home,” she whispers. I don’t think she’s talking to me, merely saying the words out loud. “I’m going to raise Remmi and Gavin. And I’ll probably fuck it all up. But they’re young. And there are two of them. So there’s at least some chance I’ll get better at it before Gavin is grown.”
I don’t interrupt. I just let her go on. Eventually, this conversation will get around to including me again. I know that,because from this moment forward, everything we do will come back around to each other.
“I’ll have to rebuild my business. Start fresh and establish myself all over in a new place. And I’ll have to change my hours. No more weekend shoots."She buries her face in her hands as she groans, "Oh my God, and I’ll have to be careful where I edit those photos."
Her head pops out from behind her palms on her next thought. "Maybe I need to switch to family portraits instead. Probably more appropriate.”
Her hand moves to cup her chin and her pinky curls in over her lower lip. Before long she’s gnawing on the nail as she carries on, “Do I bring my things? Put them into storage? My apartment isn’t that big. I can probably fit most of my stuff into the den. Is that the room I should stay in? It's where I stay when I visit. What do I do with Trent and Lena’s room? I can’t stay in there. Wait, where are you staying?”
There it is. The moment I’m included in the winding ways of her whirling thoughts again. “Um, I’m not sure. There’s a bathroom in the barn. I could always turn the office out there into a small living space. Don’t need much.” I shrug.
“You would do that?” She seems surprised. “Didn’t you buy a house, like, three months ago?”
“I did. But it’s two counties over. I can’t move it here and I’m not making that commute on the daily. So, what are my options? Besides, all the traveling I do for work, I hardly live there as it is.”
“Right.” She gets quiet. “This is so crazy. I’m moving across the whole damn country. You’re giving up your house to live in a barn.” She looks over at me. “Maybe we’re making too many decisions too fast.”
“What do you mean?”
She shakes her head and I think maybe she doesn’t know what she’s trying to say either. “It’s just…we’re talking about turning our entire lives upside down. And that’s fine, because let’s face it, they already are. But maybe we don’t need to commit to keeping them that way forever.”
“You can’t decide a year from now you don’t want to raise Remmi and Gavin,” I snap.
