Wherever the Dandelion Falls (71 page)

“Tell me something about...” I paused, trying to think of something I didn’t already know about her.

Before I could think of anything, she leaned forward, kissing me with tired lips and placing her hand on my heart. Lips still brushing against mine, she murmured, “I love you.”

My body raced with her confession, and I pulled back so I could see the deepness of her eyes. They were sparkling with a vulnerability I hadn’t seen before.

"I didn't want to say it before because I didn't want you to think I was only saying it so you'd sleep with me. But I've wanted to say it for a long time."

I stared at her in amazement for a long time before I realized I had yet to say it back.

And I was so, so ready to say it back.

“Me too,” I whispered. “I love you too.”

When we got upstairs, Faye looked around, spotting her book on the coffee table, but not moving to take it. I set my purse down and aggressively took off my shoes. I pulled out my earrings, setting them on the entertainment center. I started taking the bobby pins out of my hair when she spoke.

"I know you're upset right now, and I think it's because of something I said."

"Don’t worry about it," I muttered, feeling myself cave a little. I knew I was taking my anger at Damon out on her, which was unfair. But I wasn't able to stop myself from being awful to her.

"Okay...," Faye said, confused.

There was a moment of tense silence as I sat on the couch and bent my head, hands searching through my hair for bobby pins as I avoided looking at her.

"Is there anything I can do to make you feel better?" she asked.

All her gentleness and anxiety seemed to rush together, and I felt guilty. She had gone to great lengths to give us a beautiful anniversary dinner, and I was turning it into something awful.

I sighed, letting my hands fall into my lap.

"I'm sorry, Faye," I said. I sounded tired, but earnest. "I didn't mean to ruin our special night. Everything was beautiful."

Encouraged by my apology, Faye ventured closer until she was hovering next to the couch.

"What happened?" she asked, taking a seat. She didn't sit too close to me, but her whole body was attuned to mine.

I took a deep breath. My guilt was telling me I owed her the truth. It was the only apology I could give her that would justify how rude I'd been to her.

"That guy at dinner...," I started. Then I faltered, second-guessing myself. I didn't know if I could tell her this story. But I had no other choice. "That guy at dinner wasn't a customer."

Faye brought her hand to her face. "I'm so sorry," she said. "I just assumed…"

It was silent and the awfulness of Faye’s assumption made me tense. I hated that she assumed every man in my life was a customer. In that moment, Faye seemed to realize it was a problem too.

"I must have made you feel awful,” she said, sounding truly dismayed at herself.

Not ready to sweep the issue under the rug, I bit my lips. "It didn't feel great, no."

Faye bent her head in shame and mumbled another apology.

I studied her genuine remorse, seeing the gentleness and malleability that I had fallen in love with. Faye was my soft place. No matter how much she scared me, I wanted her to know the truth. I knew keeping my secrets to myself would cause her to strain and eventually break under my rigidity and coarseness. I didn't want that to happen.

"It was Damon," I said. "My high school boyfriend."

“Oh.” Faye paused for a moment. “You’ve never told me about him.”

I gave a stiff nod and steeled myself as I said, “That’s because he hurt me more than anyone in the world has ever hurt me. That's pretty hard to talk about.”

Faye’s face grew concerned and she shifted closer to me on the couch. “Seeing him must have been like seeing a ghost,” she said.

My eyes went wide and I nodded. It
had
felt like seeing a ghost.

She slipped her hand into mine and gave a gentle squeeze. “I want to hear whatever you want to tell me,” she said. “Or we can just sit quietly. Or I can go. Whatever you need.”

I felt as though all her grace and forgiveness banded together and struck me in the chest, preventing me from staying tight-lipped and guarded. Her love was so unbelievable and pure, I couldn’t remain far away for longer than a minute.

And so, for the first time since moving in with Justine, I told someone the whole story of Damon from start to finish. I told Faye about the summer, perfect and golden, when I was too young and foolish to realize that I was building my castle in the air. Damon and I had started dating when I was only fourteen, he fifteen. I told her about the Proms and the Homecoming dances and the Sunday night dinners with his parents. I told her about the names we picked out for our kids and the kind of dog we wanted. I told her everything. And to my amazement, I didn't cry. Not a single tear. Not even when I described how he sat me down on our fifth anniversary with a patient, regretful smile, taking both of my hands between his as he delivered his rehearsed breakup speech.

Now Faye held my hands, cradling each one in her palm, stroking her thumbs over the backs to remind me of her presence. When I finished, Faye was silent for a long time. I suddenly felt furiously ashamed, as though I was the most foolish girl in the world for letting my high school sweetheart affect me now that I was a grown woman. I wasn't crying, but I felt like that teenage girl on the bench in the park, asking
Why
over and over again. Why had I let it follow me for so long? Why was this something I felt compelled to tell Faye? I was showing my irrational self to her, which was likely to put her off. She wouldn't want to date me anymore. She was going to leave me like Damon had left me.

I started to pull away in fear, but Faye reinforced her grip on my hands. “I’m really sorry about what happened with Damon,” she said. “And it’s understandable that you reacted the way you did tonight.”

I tried to believe her, but I couldn’t help but feel still feel foolish.

“And it makes sense that you didn’t want to be around me afterwards.”

“What he did has nothing to do with you.”

“Even so," she said with an apologetic, tender look in her eyes. “We live linearly, but we don’t feel linearly.”

Her quiet wisdom made me start to shake, as though I were going to crumble. But her hands held fast, thumbs brushing over my skin, steady in their movement as her eyes studied them.

Then she looked up at me and her eyes were so deep, I knew that shutting her out would be painful. Painful in the same way that Damon leaving me on that park bench was painful.

It never occurred to me that walking away may have been as painful for Damon as it was for me to sit on that bench alone with my tears and the
Why
clanging around inside me. Even if he had answers.

Faye was so vast and warm, and I was so small and fragile. I was no match for her. She opened her mouth and my heart squeezed, hoping the
Why
wouldn't come back.

"Riley," she murmured. "I'm not Damon." She gave me a timid smile.

"I know," I said, apologetic. "I just... it's harder when you know what can happen. I still don’t understand why..."

She bit her lips and nodded. She has always been so delicate with me. Delicate in a way that made me so, so fragile.

“I had someone who made me wonder
Why
once too,” she said.

I adored her for being willing to match my vulnerability. It made me feel safer. “You did?”

Faye gave me a solemn nod. “Andrea,” she said. “She made me wonder
Why
I couldn’t have things I wanted,
Why
I couldn’t be normal.”

I recalled her story about Andrea and how she’d been too frightened to follow her heart. I supposed her
Why
had just like mine in that it haunted and shook her understanding of who she was.

“The thing is,” Faye continued, “in journalism school, the first thing you learn is that
Why
isn’t an interesting question because it’s the one no one can answer. No one with any wisdom at least. Journalists try to find answers to Who, What, When, Where, and How. But asking
Why
... No one is ever satisfied with the answers they get to that question.”

I hummed, wishing what she was saying wasn't true. But I knew it was.

"No one knows what's going to happen, Riley. But I promise you... I
promise
you I'm not going to break up with you suddenly without talking about it and seeing if we can work things out. And if for some reason someday we
do
break up, I promise I will answer all your Whys as best I can. Even if it makes me a bad journalist. I did it for Isaiah, and I know I would do it for you, because I am hopelessly, mercilessly in love with you."

And, as crumbling tends to happen, I broke.

All the tears I had expected to cry while talking about Damon sprang forth. But these were new tears. These were relieved, grateful sobs. Inside I felt something burst from a rusted encasement. Warmth started to flow from my chest as I rocked forward, then back, then back and forth, until I was rocking back and forth, irrationally emotional, and Faye was squeezing my hands. She was squeezing them and looking at me and I could see her heart, open and concerned, right there in her eyes. She was holding me together as I crumbled.

And as she held me there, I felt she was taking the shards of my childhood and putting them back together. She loved me and that love became a glue that put the pieces back together, creating, somehow, something more beautiful than it was to begin with.

Love, it turns out, has the power to heal the wounds put there by others.

The weight of her love pressed down on me, and I buried my face in her lap, letting my hair cover my ears as I tried to tip the built up pressure out of my head and chest. I cried for a minute and she let go of one of my hands to stroke my hair. I cried until all the tension that had crept into my body upon seeing Damon had drained. Then I sat up and buried my face in her neck, laying a gentle kiss on her skin in thanks. Then I sat with her, arms around her waist as I breathed, trying to adjust to a level of closeness I had never experienced with anyone. Not even Damon.

I realized in that moment that I loved Faye more than I had ever loved anyone in the whole world.

And I realized she probably knew that.

Even so, I knew I had to tell her. Saying things out loud is important.

“Faye,” I swallowed. “I love you so much it scares me.”

She brought her hand up to cradle my head. “You terrify me too, Riley,” she hummed.

I sniffled, resigned to being afraid of my feelings for Faye for the rest of my life. Like it or not, she was part of me now. Forever. Even if we were to break up, I would never go a day without thinking about her. I still thought about Damon after all these years, and I loved Faye more than I’d loved him.

"This is probably not the right time to ask you," Faye said, her words humming with amusement at herself. "But then again, maybe it is."

I sat up, anxious and curious.

She gave me a sheepish smile and said, “I was planning to ask you tonight if you’d move in with me.”

I was stunned.

Move in
with her? Were we ready for that? Ready to make a commitment bigger than any she’d made to Isaiah after
five
years? I started to shake, overwhelmed by her adoration.

“You want to
move in
?” I asked in disbelief. My voice was soggy and strained, and it sounded like I was drunk.

“When you’re ready,” Faye said, still calm. “I don’t expect you to decide right now.”

Something in me hesitated, and I knew immediately what it was.

“You really want to live with a stripper?” I asked.

Faye’s face looked suddenly sad. “Riley...”

She was being sweet, but I wasn’t so naive as to think it wasn't an issue. She had, after all, assumed Damon was a customer. We both knew my job put a strain on our relationship.