Straddling the Line

THIRTY-TWO

HAVEN STAYED UP LATE TO FILE HER LATEST PRODUCTION notes and photos and to make plane reservations.

It wasn’t like she was going to get any sleep anyway.

She’d cried for an hour, miserable and unhappy and wishing like crazy that Trevor would knock on her door and tell her he was an asshole and beg her forgiveness.

Ha. That hadn’t happened.

She’d made plane reservations, but not back to New York.

She took a flight to Oklahoma, and arrived at her mother’s house the next evening.

Her mother was surprised to see her, and as soon as she saw her mom, the tears came again.

She hadn’t wanted to cry in front of her mom. Her intent was to spend a couple of days there, regroup emotionally, then be on her way.

“Oh, honey, what happened?” her mom asked after she’d let loose a barrage of sobs and her mom sat with her on the sofa and comforted her with hugs and tissues.

When she had finished crying, she told her mom about Trevor, about letting her guard down and falling in love with him, about how he held himself away from her emotionally, and then, because she trusted her mother implicitly, she told her Trevor’s secret.

“Wow,” her mom said. “That’s some painful secret to hold tight to for all these years. And how that poor boy must be hurtin’ inside.”

Haven shook her head. “How could I not have seen it? I tutored him, Mom.”

“Honey, you didn’t see it because he was clever in hiding it. From you, and obviously, from everyone.”

“How did he get through school unable to read? Through college?”

“He said he reads some, right?”

“Yes.”

“And you’ve worked with kids with literacy issues before. You know how easily they can slide through the system. Trevor’s not dumb. He’s very smart.”

Haven nodded. “Smart enough to game me, and probably his teachers through the years.”

“Yes.”

She was still trying to take it all in. Not just Trevor’s literacy issues, but him summarily throwing her out of his house—out of his life.

She took her things upstairs to her room and spent the first day sulking and feeling utterly drained. She slept late, then got up and had breakfast in town, went for a walk to clear her head, and did some work at the house during the day. When her mom came home from work that day, Haven helped her slice carrots and potatoes for dinner.

She had no more answers today than she had yesterday when she’d arrived. She was still smarting from Trevor asking her to leave and didn’t know what to do about it. Her heart hurt, and it was an awful feeling she simply didn’t want to have. She wanted it all to go away.

She had to get back to work. She’d already spent way too much time mourning her father. She wasn’t going to let herself live in this state of hurt again. Burying herself in work was the solution to all her problems.

“So now that you know Trevor’s secret, what are you going to do about it?” her mom asked as they stood side by side at the kitchen counter.

Haven paused, knife in her hand. “What am I going to do about it? Nothing.”

Her mother slid her a look.

“What? He threw me out of his house. I begged him over and over again to talk to me. I offered to help over and over again, too. And still, he told me to leave. He threw me out.”

“Haven. He’s hurt. And obviously scared.”

She wasn’t buying it. She was hurt, too. “He had ample opportunity to talk to me, Mom. The bottom line is, he doesn’t trust me.”

Her mother laid down the paring knife she’d been using and leaned her hip against the counter. “I know you’re hurt. You care about him, so you’re lettin’ your emotions cloud your judgment. You worked with people like Trevor when you were in school. You know how defensive they got when forced to face what they felt were inadequacies. Don’t you think that’s exactly what Trevor did when you backed him up against the wall and forced him to face the truth about himself?”

“I didn’t—” But she had. She’d pushed him and pushed him until she’d made him admit a secret he’d held on to for his entire life. He’d been angry and upset and he’d lashed out at her. She’d seen it time and time again during her undergraduate studies, when she’d worked with people who had literacy issues. They got angry and defensive, a lot of times with the people they cared about the most who were only trying to help them.

Haven sighed. “This is hard. I care about him. But I can’t help him if he won’t let me in his life.”

“Do you want to help him?”

“Of course I do.”

Her mom picked up the knife and resumed chopping carrots. “Then you’ll figure out a way. If anyone can, Haven, it’s you. I’ve never known anyone more tenacious.”

She thought about it as they prepped and then ate dinner, and long after her mom had gone to bed.

She’d let her own hurt and her own needs get in the way. She loved him, and she hadn’t told him that. Would it have made a difference? She didn’t know, but she should have tried. She’d walked away when she should have stood her ground and stayed. She should have been a support system to him, not a hindrance.

But maybe this break was good for both of them. Not for long, though.

She had to go back, had to make him understand that she would be there for him if and when he decided he wanted help. Because she could help him.

If anyone could, she could.

She wasn’t going to give up on him.

And this time, she wasn’t going to let him push her away.