“Thank you.”
I swingby my trailer to collect one of my notebooks — the pretty one with the soft embossed cover I like to run my fingers over — then I head for Bates’s place.
My belly won’t quit fluttering, and a small part of me wants to stand outside his door until he discovers me there, but that’s not how things get done in a hurry. I knock twice and then quickly let myself in before he can turn me away.
His eyes are low and he rests his chin on his folded arms while he leans over his table. It’s a big trailer with a decent-sized table, but Bates makes his furniture appear much smaller than it is.
He looks up and seems surprised to see me, but he doesn’t lift his face from moping position. Instead, his gaze drop back to the tiny little shoes on the table in front of him. It’s then that he startles into action, snatching them up and shoving them into the top pocket of his shirt.
“Out of sight, but close to your heart,” I observe quietly with a nod. “You don’t have to hide them. If you don’t want. I’m sorry my question blindsided you, and I wanted you to know that any response was going to be okay by me. Including this one. I… May I sit with you a while?”
Bates doesn’t answer.
“You don’t have to talk to me. I just wanted to be… around. Is it okay that I’m here?”
Slowly sitting up, Bates rubs his cheek and gestures to the seat opposite him, but he keeps his eyes low until I speak.
“It must have felt very real until it wasn’t. You’re allowed to grieve, Bates.”
He swallows visibly, and his eyes slip away from me. “Not sure I’m getting a choice in the matter. Can’t seem to hold it back. I feel like a dick.”
“You’re not a dick. You’re hurting. You didn’t just break up with someone who betrayed you; you lost something that was really important to you along with that trust. I can tell from the ride here with Dad, and the way you were talking before you left the hub, that being a dad is something you really wanted.”
Bates glances at me again and then covers his face with his hands for a while. “You are too fucking wise and insightful for someone so young.”
“I get that a lot. It’s nothing magical, just pattern recognition.”
His fingers slide down his face until he can see over the top of them. “Oh, you definitely possess a special kind of magic, Lana. I just don’t think anyone’s shown you how to see it.”
Until now.
My insides seem to flood with helium, and I float upward until my spine is straight and my ears are pricked. Bates praises me almost every chance he gets. Even when he’s upset.
“Thank you for thinking that. I’m really sorry for your loss, Bates.”
He nods. “Thanks. I’ll be okay.”
“You will,” I agree, reaching across to tug one of his big hands down to where I can hold it.
He stares at our interwoven fingers for a long time.
“You know what’s weird?” he asks eventually. “I feltreliefat losing the relationship, but losing the kid…”
His breath leaks from him in a slow, pained manner as he shakes his head. “That’s putting some things into perspective — and they keep kicking me in the guts.”
His fingers begin to detach from mine, and when he’s free, he slides out from behind the table. He moves two steps before dropping into one of two big, cushy armchair recliners that take up most of the living space. He doesn’t gesture for me to sit in the opposite seat, but I’m sure it’s what he’s intending.
I shrug out of my big puffer jacket before moving closer, and I leave it on his table with my notebook as I follow him to the sitting area. I look between the two chairs, then I climb into his lap so I can hug him.
Bates stiffens beneath me for a breath, but when my arms go around his neck and I press my heart to his, he melts completely. His big arms fold over me, pulling me closer as he burrows his face into my neck. We stay like that for a long time — untilBates probably can’t even feel his legs beneath the weight of me.Mybutt’s going numb, and the comforting embrace is without a doubt morphing into more of an uncomfortable statue pose we can’t possibly keep.
My fingers trail over his hair, and I kiss his cheek.
“If you ever want to talk more about it, I’ll listen. And Dad’s pretty keen to support you too. He knows a few things about grief. Losing people you love is hard, but if you don’t let yourself feel it, it’ll find other ways to manifest, and you don’t want to start carrying around notebooks full of imaginary friends and plans to help you feel in control of your life, right? That’d probably make Dad send me away for being a bad influence on his precious Kelly.”
His eyes lift to mine, and I give him an easy smile.
He pulls me back in and hugs me all over again.
