Page 82 of Henhouse
Otherwise, she’d never know how good it could get. Otherwise, she’d always wonder. Otherwise, the answer would always beno.
40
Theo’s Jeep idled at a stoplight on his way home from work. He was getting home later than usual, the sun had already sunk well below the horizon. He’d had another difficult client for his last appointment. After the inspection, the manager reprimanded him about all the work he created forno goddamn reason. Though Theo insisted safety and code and the staff’s wellbeing were reason enough, it didn’t stop the onslaught of insults he’d had to endure in order to get the guy to sign off on receiving his instructions.
In some ways, it reminded him of his first meeting with Effie. Her irritation at having to meet his standards to pass inspection. He wondered if it colored the rest of their interactions. If she thought herself being inspected for approval, like he had a list of requirements for his girlfriend the same as he did for a commercial building to meet safety codes.
He choked on a laugh as he let his foot off the brake. Safety was his career, yet he had somehow failed to make Effie feel safe with him.Failed to show her that he was there to take care of things and that all she needed to do was be herself.
Theo ached at the thought of her sitting at home, navigating her grief. He felt for all of the Thatcher women and had been torn about whether to go to Beatrice’s art show and memorial.
After doing what he could for Effie that heavy morning nearly two weeks ago, he felt like he was becoming more burden than help. Like seeing him unsettled Effie in a way that had her covered in shame and confusion. He didn’t want to bring that to a day of celebration, so he stayed away.
The Jeep was quiet but for the rhythmic clink of his blinker as he waited to turn left into his parking garage. He stretched his neck side to side searching for an opening. Before long he parked and unloaded his things. His messenger bag felt heavier than usual, each step a monumental task as he moved for the stairwell.
Theo almost forgot what it felt like to be optimistic about finding his soulmate. He’d once been happy to float from relationship to relationship in search of the love he knew existed. It had excited him to know thatshewas out there somewhere. But now, knowing who she was, where she was, and that she didn’t want him back felt like a sick cosmic joke.
He didn’t want to keep fooling himself, that he just had to wait and she’d realize she wanted to be with him too, but he also didn’t want to admit defeat. He’d told her he’d wait, so wait he would. At least until it became less painful to move on than to stew in unrequited affection.
Theo reached into his pocket for his keys, not looking forward to another night without Effie asleep beside him. It might have seemed rash to anyone else that after only a few months of knowing her, hewas certain it was forever. To Theo, it felt natural. As Effie had said with such self-loathing, she was the answer to his prayers, and he supposed that if all he got was those couple months, he would be grateful nonetheless.
He rubbed his eyes like he could unsee their breakup as he stepped through the door, shutting it behind him.
Theo hung up his bag and turned to find Effie sitting on his sofa.
“Brayden gave me his key,” she said lifting it as evidence she didn’t manage to pick the lock and break in.
Theo nodded and walked into the kitchen, despite the live-wire buzz that vibrated through him at seeing her. He rested his elbows on the counter, his eyes trained on Effie. He kept his distance, like trying not to spook a deer in the woods, but everything in him screamed to be near her. She stood, clutching a leather-bound journal in her hands. With a few steps, she landed on the other side of the island.
Theo couldn’t keep from drinking her in head to toe. The blue and white striped sundress she wore bared her shoulders and hugged her curves to her hips where it fell in a soft bell shape to the tops of her knees. She’d braided her hair to one side and the sensuous curve of her neck was on full display. He wanted to trace its contours all the way to the pearl earrings that studded her ears.
Effie placed the journal on the counter. “It’s the one you bought from the store, right?”
Theo nodded. “Did you read it?” He wasn’t certain if he hoped she had or hadn’t. He had been out of habit in sharing his poetry with anyone and felt insecure about how good it was. After poetry slams in college, it became more of a personal form of therapy than anything to be read aloud.
“I wanted to,” she confessed, and her cheeks reddened in that sweet embarrassment that had him wanting to brush away the color. “But I didn’t.”
Theo debated whether it was a good idea to ask why she came by and risk sending her running when Effie blurted, “I don’t want to die without knowing if this is real. I don’t . . . I don’t want to put off the good things.”
Theo ventured around the counter until he breathed Effie’s air. She smelled like rosemary and mint. Her cornflower-blue eyes met his and he couldn’t stop the hand that reached for her cheek, his thumb smoothing over its blushed curve.
Relief eddied around him. The sense of optimism returned. He wanted to confess everything. To say the words they’d danced around for weeks, but still not wanting to speak, lest this moment was as fragile as it felt, he pointed to the journal. “Flip to the last poem.”
Effie quirked her brow but did as she was told. She pulled her bottom lip between her teeth as she flipped through page after page, presumably noting that every poem within was about her. About them. She reached the last page and looked up at him. “This is dated a week before we broke up,” she said a bit breathless, and Theo couldn’t help but stare.
The Sky Is Blue
Some things I know (like the sky is blue) without a thought or feeling. (It is truth in vibration and spirit and faith.)
I yield to no doubt (for doubting is not knowing). I need no proof (for Sunshine, the proof is in the language of our souls when we are silent.) I trust no other to share my life (because in knowing there is no returning
To ignorance
To before
To without.)
This is the marvel of receiving that which my soul yearned for (the solidity of the untouchable.) This is the heartstring plucked on its perfect note. It is the vow of a man who follows his knowing (like a compass through the jungle.)
