Tobin stands in a circle of tall, older Black men—Béa’s uncles, I think. He’s smiling and nodding instead of talking and laughing. That’sreallynot like him.
He needs to go home. I think he’s needed to leave for a while, and I didn’t notice.Or,my conscience pipes up,you chose not to see.
I hug everyone goodbye and make my way through the uncles to Tobin. “Are you done?”
His smile doesn’t reach his eyes. “Stay as long as you want.”
“No, let’s go. Usually you love parties, so I thought…”
When it becomes clear neither of us is going to say more, I grab my purse and we sneak out. We’ve learned to do an Irish goodbye, or people will find any excuse to keep Tobin from leaving.
He waits until we’re in the truck to speak. “I don’t love parties, Liz.”
I frown, scooping my dress into the passenger side. “Yes, you do.”
Tobin’s his most animated self at gatherings, working the biggest conversational circle, replenishing people’s food and drinks whether he’s hosting or not. He has to shake off flirts like a dog shakes off unruly puppies, even when I’m stapled to his side. Allmy sense memories of parties have a soundtrack of Tobin’s open-throated laughter.
The truck rumbles to life. “They’re a lot of work for me, if you haven’t noticed.”
“Oh. Because you have to babysit me. But you didn’t have to do that tonight.”
His sigh is long and sad, a wave retreating from a shadowed beach. “Standing beside you was what Ilikedabout going out. The effort was for everyone else. People assume I’ll get the party going. Sometimes the hosts expect me to perform, almost. It’s like the price of admission for me.”
His thumbs tap the steering wheel, restless. As the truck puts distance between us and the lights of Grey Tusk, the valley opens up, a rim of velvet-dark mountains cradled by the radiance of a clear mountain sky, stars so bright you can almost watch the world turning through the night.
“I thought we were going to this wedding together. Nobody knew me, so I could hang with just you. Talk. Hold hands. I guess I shouldn’t have let you think leaving early was your idea all this time, because I promise you all I ever wanted was to take my wife home to bed.”
His eyes glitter in the dark. “But you were off doing your own thing, with everyone but me. And I’m happy for you! You always wanted a million friends. And I’m not so oblivious that I can’t see you’re happy, too. Happier than I’ve ever seen you at a party where I had my arm around you.”
I didn’t think he knew that, about me wanting a ton of friends. It was less painful to pretend the only friends I needed were Stellar and Amber.
“I love being by your side, Tobin. But I felt like… sometimes you had to hold my head above water, socially. You couldn’t evengo to the bathroom, or I’d sink. And I want to be able to swim on my own. It doesn’t mean I don’t want to be with you. Please don’t be jealous.”
“It’s not jealousy, Diz.” He sounds tired. Discouraged. “I’ll cheerfully share you with the world. I know you’re making changes, and you love how different you feel. But the person you were tonight is the person you’ve always been, to me. You don’t have to be popular at a party for me to know you’re funny, and smart, and kind, and deserving and sexy and good. If you want this, then I want it for you. The question is, do you want it withme?”
“I do want it with you. Always with you, Tobe.”
He swings the truck into our neighborhood, rolling down the quiet midnight streets lined with alpine evergreens.
“I don’t want to be the asshole here, pushing you when you’re not ready. But I have to know. Do you still want me? Are you, uh.” He grips the wheel convulsively. “Are you ever coming home?”
Oh, god.
“I can’t. Not yet. I’m sorry, Tobin.” I’ve already hurt him, and myself, by sleeping with him and walking it back. I shouldn’t break a rule like that again.
The sound he makes is no less animal for being barely audible.
“How did it get this bad? How is living with me worse than living with Amber? Sometimes I think it hurts me more than it hurts you, to see her push you around. It kills me that you’d rather stay with her than come home.”
“It’s not that I don’t want to come home! I need to figure out who I am on my own, before I can be the partner you deserve. I’ve made so many mistakes. We both have.
“I can’t do that anymore, Tobe,” I whisper. “I need to clear out the space in my heart that I’ve given to people who want to throw their garbage into it. I want room to sayyes,to you and to myself.I want to celebrate our real anniversary, because that’s the day I married you! If we’re going to be together, Tobin, it has to be as the people we are now.”
He pulls up in front of my parents’ house, throwing the engine in park.
“Look, I shouldn’t have said anything. I’m fine waiting for you to make the next move. Just… not too long, okay? It’s the not knowing. You know.”
“I know.” He’s done enough waiting for a lifetime—waiting for his dad to come home; waiting for Tor’s grand promises to come true. And when the promises broke, doing it all again, and again.
