CHAPTER FIFTEEN: PATIENT
The Town
After
I am arguing with a five-year-old over what's appropriate for a little girl to wear out in public. I never thought this would be my life.
Jasper says that guilt serves no useful purpose: in recovery, in love, in life. But sometimes the guilt is so thick that I can hardly breathe.
I made the choice. I agreed. I promised.
Wren and I walk down 4th Street, hand in hand, and I wish I knew who bought her these ridiculous clothes.
"Who dressed you?"
"I dressed myself," she says proudly, admiring her outfit, what little of it there is to admire anyway.
"You forgot a sweater."
"I'm not cold."
"Well you can't wear that," I blurt out.
She stops walking. I think she might be about to cry as she pulls her hand out from mine and crosses her arms over her chest.
I have no idea what I'm supposed to do now.
I try to put my hand on her shoulder, but she shrugs it off. I don't know where girls learn that shit.
"Wren."
She looks everywhere but at me. "What?"
"I'm sorry for hurting your feelings. It's just that those are dress-up clothes." If you're a hooker. "They're not clothes you wear to the diner."
She looks at me now, with those sad brown eyes. "I was trying to look pretty."
She was trying to look pretty. And I'm a total jackass.
"You're already pretty. Besides, what do you need to look pretty around me for?" I tease her, hoping it will make her smile.
"So you'll be my best friend."
She's serious. This kid.
"You can't get a best friend by dressing up."
"Why not?"
"Because... life doesn't work that way."
"Then how do you get one?"
"I think best friends just happen to you. You have to be patient."
"What's patient?"
"It's when you have to wait for something for a long time."
"I hate patient."
"I know, kid." I hate patient too.
She pulls on my fingers as we walk until she's holding my hand again.
"What do you want to do after lunch?"
She does that thing with her eyebrows where she looks mad, but really she's just thinking. "I want to go to the beach," she shouts as she jumps all around on the sidewalk.
The beach.
"How are we supposed to get there?"
She thinks about it for a moment. "You could steal a car."
"You watch too much TV."
"Aunt Alice lets me watch Disney princesses and my mom is going to take me Disneyland. She promised."
That liar. I have never hated anyone so much in my life.
Wren seems to have forgotten all about last week. About waiting and waiting and waiting. Only to have that woman, her mother, show up high as a kite, and then disappear again. But I haven't forgotten. I'm still reeling.
She puts her addiction before her child who loves her. She is heartless, cold, selfish. I understand her too well.
I give Wren my hoodie to wear and she doesn't complain that it practically reaches her ankles.
"Do I look like a gangster?"
A what?
"No, you look like a little girl."
We go to the diner for Sunday brunch. The one that only takes cash. Wren likes hash browns and root beer floats and this is the place for both.
She chooses a table right by the door. She wants to see who is coming and going. I wish I didn't know why. We get a breeze when the door opens, but it's fine because she's happy.
Every time the bell on the door chimes, Wren sits up on her knees and says hello to whoever walks in. It's embarrassing and funny. Luckily my back is to the door, so I don't have to see the strangers' faces.
I've been taking her to places that are important to me. I usually tell her why, but not today. I'm not going to tell her that Bella and I would always walk here on Sundays after a lazy morning of making love.
"You have ketchup on your face," she tells me with a mouth full of food.
"Thanks." I wink at her before wiping it off, and it makes her laugh. The way little girls laugh.
The diner is loud, people talking all around. Wren's eyes go wide and serious as the bell rings behind me for the hundredth time. She stares instead of saying hello.
Something tells me not to look.
"It looks like the only places to sit are up at the bar." I know that voice. I will always know that voice.
"How long of a wait for a table for three?" Please stop talking. Please.
I can't breathe.
I can tell by the expression on Wren's face the second Bella sees us.
"It's too crowded, Mom. Let's go somewhere else." And I can hear it in her voice.
I don't turn around to see who else is with her. For her sake. But mostly for mine.
I watch Wren's face. Her eyes are still big, but she stays quiet. I close my eyes and hold my breath, waiting for the bells on the door.
And when they finally ring, Wren is no longer staring over my shoulder; she's looking at me expectantly. Like I owe her an explanation. "You didn't say hi."
My heart is racing. I promised.
"No. I didn't," I tell her, without telling her anything.
"Why?"
"Because she wasn't alone."
She won't stop staring at me. Like she's trying to understand. I stare back until she's scowling.
"Is she your girlfriend?"
"No."
"Aunt Alice says it's not nice to lie."
She thinks I'm lying. If she only knew.
"I try not to lie anymore."
"Because it's wrong to lie?"
"Because it hurts people."
"Do you kiss her on the lips? She's your girlfriend if you kiss her on the lips."
"No."
"Then what do you do?"
"We talk mostly."
"Why?"
I guess we both have a lot to say.
"You ask a lot of questions. Finish your breakfast."
She wrinkles her nose at me before taking a huge bite of her cinnamon roll.
"Is she your best friend?" she asks, her mouth full.
She was once.
"I don't know," I answer honestly.
"Why don't you know?"
"Because it's not that simple."
"Because you have to be patient?"
"Because she's my wife." I say it without thinking. I immediately regret it.
"You got a wife?" she nearly shouts, slapping her hands on the table. I resist the urge to cover her mouth with my hand.
"No."
"But you said..."
"Just forget it, okay?"
"I'm going to get married someday. Maybe to a boy, maybe to a girl. That's allowed."
I try my best not to laugh. "Yes, that's allowed."
"You're married to her?"
"I was once."
"But not anymore?"
"No, not anymore."
"Are you a dad too?"
"No. I'm not. I'm not a dad."
"Are you gonna cry?"
"No."
"You can be my dad if you want."
She says it like it's nothing. Like she's offering me a bite of her pastry.
"That's very nice, Wren, but I'm afraid it doesn't work that way."
"It's okay. I can be patient." She tries unsuccessfully to wink. "It means waiting a long time."
We spend the day at the children's library. I'm the only man in a room full of mothers and their kids. I probably shouldn't be here. It must be obvious because the librarian points us in the right direction without me having to ask.
"Your little girl is adorable."
I nod, instead of correcting her. Wren smiles wide. I don't want to be added to the list of people who break her heart, but I think I might be in too deep already.
She chooses a pile of books and we sit on the floor for half a day reading stories about little girl things. She tucks her knees up inside my huge sweatshirt. With the hood up and the drawstrings pulled tight, I read as she turns the pages. She is so grown up, and so very, very small.
And when I drop her back off at the coffee shop she tells Alice, "Patient means waiting a really long time." She blinks at me and it's hard to say goodbye.
Alice drops me off at the house and I promise Wren that I'll see her in a few days. I have a job just outside of town that should take a day or two.
When I'm home, in that quiet, empty house that haunts, I can't help but think about a little girl without a father. I don't let myself think about her for too long. My thoughts will only make me want to swallow a handful of pills.
I busy myself in the bedroom. The small one. I've been fixing it up. All that's left to do is paint the trim.
Bella calls just after sunset, even though it's not Saturday. I know it's her before I pick up.
We talk about the weather and the construction downtown and everything but this morning.
"Edward, are we going to talk about this?"
"Talk about what?"
"I hate it when you do that," she tells me honestly.
I don't know what to say.
I'm glad you left. I wanted you to stay.
"I'm sorry about the diner, Edward."
She's sorry.
"Nothing to be sorry about."
"Edward, I didn't know what to do."
"I know." I didn't know what to do either.
"Can we talk about this or do you want to just talk around it like we've been doing for months?"
"I don't know what you want me to say, Bella."
Neither of us speaks. This is why I hate the phone.
"How is your mom?" I try.
She's quiet for a long time. "She's good."
"Bella..."
She interrupts me before I can ask a different question that I'm not allowed to ask. "She's good, Edward."
And the way she says my name. I want to ask her all of the questions in the world. I want to apologize for every mistake I've ever made and seek forgiveness for every lie I've ever told.
"What did you do today?" It seems like a safe question.
"We went to the beach." I can hear her smile. She always loved the beach.
I have so much that I need to say to her. But I don't know how to say any of it out loud.
We hang up and I spend the rest of the night peeling off every last inch of wallpaper in the dining room.
-HL-
A/N:
To Susan and Kim, for how much they care about this story and these characters.
To CC and Peri for reading and encouraging me to post.
Happy New Year! Broken any resolutions yet?
Thanks for your patience. Chapter 16 will be up a week from today :)