Various people in charge talk to Dave, thump him on the back, offer words that are supposed to be comforting.
But nothing undoes the damage to his beautiful house. Hishome.
He somehow drives us back to the cabin, and we return to see my car in the driveway.
“Well, that’s something at least, right? I’m glad your car is still with us,” he offers as we tromp through the snow and then unlocks the door to what’sourplace, I guess.
“Yes, it’s nice that I haven’t destroyed my car. But your house is a bigger concern. You okay?”
“I am,” he assures me. “This is f’ing annoying, but I realize that insurance will handle it all. It’s just a nuisance.”
“Yes. Everything will be back to what it was. It’ll just take time.”
We go inside, and I check on Whiska, who is still behind the washing machine. The food and water I put out are both untouched, so I put out more, and he doesn’t make a sound. Then I open a sleeve of chicken puree—something I know he loves. Anything to entice him. But, dammit, he’s frozen and not coming out, even with my cooing and his favorite treats. I’ll wait and not panic. Not yet. So, after a giant sigh, I go back to the living room.
And then it’s just me and Dave. Neither of us knows what to do after this insane night. So, I just take a step in and grab his hand.
“I’m lost when it comes to you,” I confess. “I don’t know what we are. If it’s okay to even hug you, to touch you. Where to go to bed.”
Dave gives me his cute, flirty, damning smile. “I’m not sure either.”
“I would kill to go back to that vacation when it all felt easy, and fun, and effortless. I just can’t do anything now. Like, I’m too messed up.” I toss up my hands. “Like, truth? I want us to be us again. Puerto Rico us again.”
“But you can’t right now. It’s okay. I understand.”
“I wish I could.”
I’m still stupefied that I cannot cry. That I cannot feel.
“I’ll wait.”
I drop to the floor and then my hands are knotted in my hair. I seriously don’t know if I want to laugh or cry about the state I’m in. “But what if I’m never me again? What if I’m forever broken into little bits?”
Dave sits down next to me. “Little bits are okay. And they are never forever.”
“Maybe I should just block off the crying. Set a limit.” I lift my head a bit. “Because what if I can’t cry enough? Otherwise, this is who I am forever. A blob on the floor? There has to be a limit.”
Even in my mess, he holds me. “I’m not sure it’s really up to you. It’s up to your body and soul, and you don’t have control. So, just wait.”
“Let time do it’s fucking thing?” I ask.
“Yes.” His arm pulls me in against him. Saving me from utterly losing it. “How about we cuddle up in bed and not worry about anything? Just get into bed and scoop.”
“The best of scoops and cozy pajamas?” That is everyone’s dream request, I imagine.
He pulls me to my feet and leads the way. “Only good, comforting, and huggy scoops,” he confirms. “And always cozy pajamas.”
Chapter 17
I’m grateful when I wake up alone. Mostly because it’s after three in the afternoon when I actually get out of bed, and it’s obviously shameful to be getting up at this insane hour. I might have roused around noon, but I didn’t hit up that Nespresso until way later. Dave’s work hours work well to help me hide my pain. It’s so embarrassing how dysfunctional I am right now, but I could seriously stay covered in blankets until after five.
I inhale a few Nespresso coffees before I am functional and before I check on Whiska because I know it’s going to be depressing.
And it is.
He hasn’t budged from his hiding spot. I coax, I plead, I read more cute kids’ books, trying to show him beautiful illustrated pages that he loves, but he’s hidden himself so that he can’t see any. I offer every treat. But this cat is not moving, and I have no reason to think he’s going to come out anytime soon.
While I don’t know this little guy too well, I alsodoknow him. Whiska won’t eat or pee for days unless I get him back to the bathroom. He’ll hide out here for days unless I get him to move. It’s basically going to be a medical issue unless I do something.
