Chapter Twelve
Alex
I probably shouldn’t be here, but it’s too late to worry now. The door creaks open, and Marley faces me, the familiar red hat on her black hair.
But the Marley Jade smile I’ve come to know, the shrieking playful girl from a few days ago in the kayak, she’s gone. The bridge Marley is back, the sad eyes Marley.
Dr. Conlan’s right. Even if she’s ignored my phone calls for days, even if she’s tried to avoid me, she needs someone. I don’t know if I can be that someone. I don’t know what good I could possibly be. But looking at her, it’s apparent she’s going through hell.
We stare a long moment. I have no idea what’s going on other than issues with her mom—Dr. Conlan told me I need to wait for Marley to tell me everything when she’s ready. I know Marley’s got her demons, but I’m starting to realize how deeply they run.
I don’t know what to say or do, but I don’t have to. I realize coming here is exactly what I should’ve done. Before I can second-guess myself or figure out what to say, she steps forward, falling into my arms, the smell of her perfume and the feel of her warm, soft skin beneath my fingers telling me I’m right where I belong and that, just like the night of the bridge, Marley just needs someone to pull her back.
Maybe, just maybe, I can be that person.
“Can we go for a walk?” I ask, and Marley nods, pulling the door shut behind her as we head off into the night.
***
“I’m sorry for just swinging by, but I got worried,” I say quietly, Marley staring ahead as we walk the streets now familiar to me.
“I’m sorry for ignoring you. I just… it’s been a rough few days.”
I let the silence seep in between us, not wanting to push her too far.
“I’ve missed you,” I declare, meaning it.
The past few days without Marley have shown me exactly what she’s come to mean to me. Gone were the days of careless walks in Rosewood, cheesesteaks with Moe, or impromptu trips around town. Gone were the days of easy laughter. My days again settled into routine—work, sleep, eat, and study.
My dad would be proud, but my heart wasn’t happy.
I was bored. I was drowning in monotony and loneliness.
We walk in silence, the night air crisp, the stars twinkling above us. We head to the park, Marley’s favorite one. Wordlessly we sit on the bench, and she leans into me as we study the night sky.
“He used to bring me here,” she starts, like a whispered prayer into the night.
I have an arm around her shoulders, and I gently play with the ends of her hair. I don’t say anything, letting her go on at her own pace.
“He used to bring me here when I was a little girl on nights just like this. Mom would tell him it was crazy, that he shouldn’t have a four-year-old out at this time of night. But he didn’t care. He’d just smile and tell her we’d be back. We’d walk down here and sit, right here, and he’d point out stars. I, of course, had no idea what he was talking about, naming those shiny dots in the sky. I’d wriggle and fiddle and fidget, wanting him to finish his lesson so we could go swing like we always did. He loved the stars, though. He would always talk about how far away they are but how beautiful, how perfect.”
She looks at me now as I study her. A tear slides down her cheek, and I reach up to wipe it away. But more tears fall, and I can’t keep up.
“Alex, I love you. I know it’s probably too soon and I know it’s crazy. I know I’m just some plain girl from Rosewood, I’m just a stop in your amazing life. But I realized on that kayak that I love you so damn much it scares me.”
It’s an odd confession of love, in the middle of such sadness. It’s like her emotions are running wild, yet, in truth, it’s the most honest, genuine confession of love I can imagine. It feels real and natural. It’s exactly what I needed to hear.
“I love you too. And you’re not just some plain girl. You’re not just a stop. You’ve reminded me what living is. I used to think life was about achieving, about climbing the ladder of success. I used to think life was eating three meals a day and studying and working. You’ve shown me in this past month that life is this, right here. I love you, too, Marley. And not just for now. Not just for a while. I love you for good.” I lean in then, her tears still falling, and I kiss her.
This kiss is different. It’s not the perfect, playful kiss from a few days ago. It’s a real kiss, a kiss mixed with lingering doubts and fears. It’s mixed with the pain she’s feeling that I want so desperately to make disappear.
The kiss is soft and slow. I pull back to look at her, her soft cheeks in my hands.
She looks up at me. “I don’t think this is going to work.”
I pull back, confused. What the hell is she talking about? The rush from a few minutes ago of knowing she’s feeling what I’m feeling stops. “What do you mean?”
“I can’t do this. I can’t lead you down this path with me. I just can’t.”
She turns her face away now, staring off to the left, into the distance. I get off the bench, kneeling in front of her, taking her hands in mine. I wait for her to look at me. “Marley, what’s wrong? What are you talking about? Talk to me.”
She swipes at her tears. “Alex, you’re amazing. You’re this perfect guy with a perfect life ahead of you. And I thought I could be the girl you needed. I thought maybe, just maybe, we could carve out a future together, that maybe the past was really over. But these last few days, I’ve realized I’ve been kidding myself. I told myself when I first met you to shut those feelings off, that I wasn’t good enough for you. But then, I don’t know, maybe it was love and the craziness of it, but I thought maybe, just maybe, we could work.”
“We can work, Marley. I know it’s scary and we have some stuff to figure out. But we have time. I’m on residency for a few years.”
“But I don’t want to suck you into all this. I’m not good for you.”
“What are you talking about?”
“I’m talking about my baggage. My past. I’m fucked-up, Alex. My family is fucked-up, and so am I. I’m never going to be the woman I want to be, and I’m never going to be good for you.”
“Hey, stop.” I squeeze her hands.
“You don’t understand,” she says, shaking her head.
“Make me understand, then.”
She wipes at her tears, taking a moment to try to compose herself. I stay put, kneeling in front of her, afraid if I move, it’ll break her will to talk.
“I can’t leave her. Ever. I can’t leave my mom behind. She needs me.”
“Okay. Then we’ll stay here.”
“I can’t ask you to do that.”
“You’re not asking me. I’m telling you. If you need to stay here, we’ll stay here. We’ll figure it out. Like I said, we have time.” I squeeze her hands again before lifting one to my lips and kissing the top of it, feeling surer of this than anything else.
She studies my eyes. “You need to know what you’re getting into.”
“Then tell me.”
She nods, and, sensing I’ve finally gotten through to her, I take my seat beside her again, pulling her in close.
“My dad killed himself when I was seven. He’d been struggling with mental health issues. He was in this bad place. Mom tried to pull him out of it, tried to get him help. It didn’t work. He killed himself on the Cedar Bend Bridge. Took a pistol, shot himself right there.”
“Marley, I’m so sorry,” I say, feeling her pain radiate through me.
She takes a deep breath. “Dr. Conlan and Margaret were there for me. They tried to shield me from it all. They did. For a long time, I thought my dad had just died in an accident. But they couldn’t shield me from the fact he was gone and that mom was falling apart. She sunk into a depression and eventually turned to alcohol. They sent her to rehab, and I lived with them for a while. She came back, and she seemed okay. But she wasn’t. How could she be?”
I squeeze her to me, kissing the top of her head, my heart ravaged by her sadness. It’s deeper than I thought. She continues.
“When I finally found out what happened to Dad, I was devastated. How didn’t I know? Why didn’t I do anything? Why couldn’t I be enough for him to want to live? As an adult, I understand that I was only seven and couldn’t be expected to shoulder that kind of weight. I know, deep down, I couldn’t have stopped him. My dad was sick. He’d struggled with mental illness his whole life. But a part of me, that little girl in me, still wonders why I couldn’t do anything.”
“It’s not your fault,” I declare. The words feel cheap and too simple, but I don’t know what else to say. My heart burns with a desire to fix this, but it also burns with the knowledge that I can’t.
“I know. Rationally, I know. But I also know that Mom blames herself. Mom’s come treacherously close many times to sinking into the same place my dad was. I vowed to myself I wouldn’t let that happen. I couldn’t save my dad because I was too young. But I can save my mom.”
“That’s a lot on your shoulders,” I remark.
I see her jaw clench. “I can handle it. I have to.”
“But you don’t have to do it alone, Marley.”
“I’ve had help. Margaret and Joe have been a godsend. They’ve been there every step, helping me, saving me on nights Mom was in a drunken rage. Margaret, in many ways, was the mother to me that Mom could never be. Mom’s not easy, I realize that now. But I know it’s not her fault. I know I can’t blame her.”
“Still. That’s a lot of weight you’ve carried.”
“I can handle it.”
“And so can I,” I vow now, turning her chin to me. “I can handle it all, too. Let me handle it with you. Let me be there for you.”
“But how can I let you? How can I drag you into this mess with me?”
“You’re not dragging me anywhere. I love you, Marley. All of you. Everything that made you who you are. When I look at you, I don’t see baggage or a broken woman. I see a survivor. I see strength. And I see beauty. Not just physical beauty, but emotional. You make life worth living. You make life exciting. I want a piece of that with you, no matter what that looks like. I want to help you find happiness, too. I want to help you find a version of your dreams, no matter what it takes. Let me be there for you.”
She’s breathing hard now, like she’s at a crossroads, a pivot point. My heart beats fast, wondering if I’ve gotten through.
She looks at me, for a long time, and it’s like I can see the past Marley, the pained Marley, coming to terms with the current woman she is.
“Okay, Alex Evans. Okay.”
“Okay, then,” I agree, and I kiss her again.