Page 67 of Henhouse
It was an excellent question, one that likely required a good deal of the shadow work Theo was fond of. But the truth was usually the simplest answer, and the one that came to the surface was “Because I’m not like you. I don’t know how to be daring and brave. I like to know things with certainty, to be able to predict them. I’m not here to try things on to see if they fit. I go out with a list, of sizes, colors, and fabrics. I carve out space for what matters to me, but I don’t fall hard or fast. I don’t want or yearn or imagine anything intangible . . . And I don’t say things unless I know I mean them for good.”
How Theo had elicited such a verbose confession was beyond her. The crush of flavors on her tongue made her want to vomit.
“You don’t fall, because it’s not a risk you’re willing to take.”
Effie couldn’t deny that.Hadn’t Hope said the same thing all those weeks ago?But it hurt coming from Theo. It stung to know he saw that in her, that cowardice and shielding, even if it wasn’t his fault it was plain to see.
“And for the record, I’ve not said it without meaning itfor good either.”
“You have or else you wouldn’t be here with me. You’d still be withher. Whichever her you actually loved out of the list of many.”
Theo rubbed the grief from his eyes. “That’s not . . . Never mind. I can’t promise that things are always going to stay the same, but it doesn’t change how I feel. It doesn’t mean that I won’t do everything in my power to keep us together and happy. I need you to believe that you and me . . . it’s different. It’s new. For fuck’s sake, Effie, I don’t know how else to prove it to you.”
“Maybe you can’t,” Effie mumbled. It had less to do with Theo and more to do with Effie not being able to take a leap of faith. She hoped he heard the distinction, that it wasn’t his shortcomings that would mean he couldn’t prove his feelings for her, but her own. This conversation was proof enough ofthat.
“Why are you here?”
The question startled her. She fumbled for a response. “Because I like being with you.”
“Why?”
“Theo, come on. You know why.”
“You won’t take me at my word, but I’m supposed to take you at yours? Trust that you find me charming and handsome and compatible? You’re not harboring some desire for me to be more than this? Taller or funnier or less spiritual?”
“What? Of course not. Taller would be too tall, you’re already six two,” Effie teased trying to reel this back in a bit, but Theo didn’t acknowledge it.
“But you know you want to be with me, even if you don’t know everything? When will you know if it’s forever? When will you know that this is a carved-out part of your life and I’m not just someoneyou’re trying on?”
“Stop, you’re twisting my words.” Her own felt sour on her tongue. She stood firmly on a runaway train now.
“Am I? Or is it as ridiculous as you questioning my feelings because we haven’t had sex yet?”
Effie’s cheeks flushed. Suddenly the room was too small, the sheets itched like wool on a hot day. She flung the covers off needing the air. Though they were exploring new territory together, she knew Theo was being patient. He would wait to be intimate, but he wouldn’t wait long for her to allow him his true feelings. Effie didn’t have answers, none that would get past the mountain of doubts that buried the key to her voice box. She wanted to say how she felt. She wanted him to say it too, but it was too much. She had to be certain. It was too dangerous otherwise.
“It took Hope and Brayden a year to say that to each other,” she said her voice so small and thin.
“We aren’t them.”
“It’s too soon.”
“Says who? You? Or is this some Thatcher theory that doesn’t hold water?”
Effie bristled at the mention of her family. “Leave them out of this.”
“I’d love to . . . sorry. I’dliketo but they seem inextricably tied to your inability to give yourself fully to this relationship.”
“And you’re so devoted? You’ve had a string of relationships supposedly looking forthe oneand all of a sudden you’re a new man?”
Theo took a deep breath, before confessing, “Usually, when you find what you’re looking for you stop looking.” He stared longingly at her as he fixed his dark round glasseson his nose.
Effie’s stomach dropped. That might have been worse than what he was going to say before. This had heft. This was the whole of it, heavy and raw and bleeding out with every beat of silence that she left his declaration unanswered.
“You can’t possibly know that.”
“Why not? Because you don’t?”
“No, because . . . you just can’t. I’m not that special. I’m not worth waiting for. I’m not enough to be the answer to your prayers.”
