| |
Lincoln spent the rest of the afternoon on the Dartmouth Common, watching the clouds and the ships in the harbour stream by. He thought of Romper, how if he were here he'd lay his head on Lincoln's thigh, or urge him to get up and toss a ball, Frisbee, stick ... whatever was available.
And then he thought of Kali. Kali, who despite the growth in her brain, despite her resistance, her anger, still had the power with even half a smile to make Lincoln feel he was exactly where he was meant to be.
It'd be hard. Even without the ... what was it, Meningioma, it'd be hard. With it? Who knew.
But he hadn't promised her forever. And she'd promised him almost nothing at all. Day by day, he'd have to decide this was what he wanted, whatever this was. He'd have to fight: Himself. Life. Maybe her.
Lincoln returned from Theo's room to find Kali with her feet up on the couch and curled beneath her. He started to head for the chair across from her, then went to the other end of the couch.
“He go down all right?”
“Squeezed an extra story out of me.”
Kali nodded. “He likes you.”
“I like him.”
A slight laugh. She looked up under those dark long lashes. “I'll never live in the woods with you.”
“I didn't ask.”
“Well, I'm just telling you.”
“I bet you never thought I'd be sitting here in your new place.”
“That is true.”
“You thought you'd never see me again when you left.”
“I thought it wasn't likely.” She pulled her feet up closer. “Don't ask that next question.”
He wasn't about to. Even if some part of her had wanted to see him again, she wouldn't admit it. At least not yet.
“People care for themselves and their own first. They have to. If they didn't, they'd die.”
“That sounds like something you've said again and again.”
She shrugged.
“Well, maybe you could be ‘my own’ one day.” He winked.
Her body shifted away from him. “You barely know me. You think you want me, but you don't.”
“I told you, I'm not asking for anything.” Lincoln smiled. “Except a thank you.”
“I'm not blind yet.”
He looked away. “Want and expectation are two different things.”
“But you admit want. So what do you want? To be my boyfriend? My lover? My provider? You think because we spent a couple of months in the same apartment and managed not to kill each other that means we're compatible? Soul mates?”
“No.”
Her lower lip curled into her mouth. She bit it. “Then why are you here? What do you want?”
“To know I'll see you often. Not in a romantic way. Not necessarily.”
Her eyes widened, almost rolled, she started to speak but he held out a hand.
“To be near you, and Theo. That's all.”
“Near us. What does that even mean?”
“It seems pretty self-explanatory.”
“Or bizarre. And if I decide I don't want you near.”
He shrugged. “You do. You're just scared.”
“Really.”
“I'm here, aren't I? Invited in. And I'm offering you the most I can give.”
Her brow rose. A signature move.
“Me.”
“Get it through your head. I do not want you.”
“You need me.”
“I'm fine.”
“Today.”
“So what, you'll be back tomorrow?”
Lincoln shifted to the edge of the couch. “Or the next day, whenever.” He pulled out his phone and gave it a little shake in front of her. “We talked about this. When you need me, you'll call, and I'll come.” He stood. “And you'll call.”
She looked up at him, strong and fragile all at once.
“And if you don't, I won't stalk you. I promise. I may check in.” He slid the phone back in his pocket. “But if you tell me, once and for all, to get lost, I'll listen.” He met her gaze, amazed at the fear and hope he felt in his smile. “So don't tell me to get lost again, unless you mean it.”
Her mouth opened, closed, opened once more. “I don't get it. You had this dream, this goal of solitude. What if I need you every day?”
“You won't, at least not for a while.”
“And then?”
“Then we'll figure it out. I know, right now at least, if it comes down to it, I'd rather be here. I'd rather be in all this, than in a tree in the woods without you.”
Kali closed her eyes and shook her head. When she looked back up at him, his breath caught. There it was again. Hope. Fear. Affection. He felt half-drowned.
“All right.” She moved to the edge of the couch, closer to him. “If you're going to be here, be here.” She paused. “I hardly know you, so tell me something.”
Lincoln grinned. “How about I start with something you helped teach me. That book. Walden. Reading it was like ... reading my life. There's this line when Thoreau talks about how people are born into lives of expectation—inheriting farms, houses, barns. And he asks the question, ‘Why should they begin digging their graves as soon as they're born?’”
Lincoln sank onto the coffee table, his knees inches from the cushion that held hers. “I read it and ... well, not as soon as I was born but maybe as soon as my father stopped being my father, I started following my brother instead, and I felt that burden. Like I was working to dig my own grave and I didn't even know it. When I left, it was as if I'd been unshackled. And when I read those words, I understood why.”
Kali nodded, her gaze intent on him. “When your father stopped being your father?”
Lincoln felt the breath travel through his lungs and down to his belly, right where that familiar ball made its weight known. “Maybe that's enough sharing for one night?”
“I know what it is to have a father walk away. To leave you.”
Lincoln faltered. “He didn't leave.”
“He—?”
“Vanished.” Lincoln put his hands on his knees and stood. “It's getting late.”
Kali reached out a hand but didn't touch him. “Don't leave yet.” He remembered this scene, the roles reversed, and sat beside her.
The corners of her lips barely rose. “How about something lighter?”
Lincoln folded his hands and waited.
“You were some big business hot shot, right?”
“Trying to be.”
“So where'd your wardrobe go? How'd you transition to ... to ... that?”
Lincoln looked at his threadbare jeans and grinned. “Laying aside those fancy clothes was laying aside a whole life.”
“And this is what you decided to pick up instead?”
He chuckled. “I tossed everything before I moved. Almost everything.” Everything Lucy had helped pick out, everything she'd liked. “I only kept the worst, what society would call the worst. The clothes I used to work in.” He held out his hands. “Really work in, I mean, when I made something.”
“On your dad's construction crew?”
“Mmhmm.” Lincoln looped a finger through one of the holes in his t-shirt. “It had another purpose too, this wardrobe—people didn't look at me, not really. I could hide in my own city.”
“And you wanted that?”
“I wanted that.”
Kali looked past him. “That's the scariest thing, that people won't look at me, that they'll stop seeing me as a person, and I won't even know it.”
Lincoln held back the hand he wanted to stretch out.
After several minutes Kali shifted away from him. “You're right. It's getting late.”
“It is.” Lincoln held his breath. “Would you like me to stay? On the couch, or—”
“No.” She shook her head.
“I can. I will.”
She stood. “No.”
Lincoln smiled. “Okay.” He rose. “I'll be back, though. Just call and I'll be back.”
Kali didn't look at him, but she nodded, reached for his hand, gave it a squeeze, and let go.
It was enough. For now, at least, it was enough.