you turn out that way in a sea of rich assholes?”
“I have no idea.”
“Do you realize that you are?”
“I don’t know. I guess I never actually thought about it.”
God. How can she not know just how rare a breed she is?
“If you’re having trouble with work, with the publishing…uh…I didn’t ask you many questions about it that night, but if you need anything, you know who my dad is. I could make a call.”
“No!” I moderate my voice. “No. I don’t want you to do that. That’s not…thank you. Are you both on speaking terms now?” My stomach clenches tighter than my balls at the moment, which is ridiculously tight, and my throat dries right up.
“No. But I… I could try…”
“You’d do that if I asked?”
“Yes. What…no. You probably don’t want to talk about work. And anyway, maybe I’m not so nice because the are you okay question was a lead up to my other question.”
“What’s that?” It’s a bit of a shock to me to realize I genuinely want to know and that I’m actually enjoying sitting here talking to Feeney and spending time with her.
This isn’t how Britt and I used to talk about things. Feeney isn’t a substitute for the black hole in my life, but this is different. I don’t feel guilty. I know Britt wouldn’t have wanted me to feel guilt at all. She would have wanted me to be happy. Not that I’m being happy right now with Feeney because I’m most certainly not.
Jesus, I need to be honest.
“I was hoping you might agree to come with Shade and me to this animal sanctuary. He wants to see it and the animals. I got the idea because I had to call a place when we found the opossum in the backyard.”
“It’s a weird idea.”
“Well, they do amazing work. I looked through some of the photos and the stories. God. It’s really sad, but they try to give them happy endings and take care of them. For the ones that can’t go back to the wild, they get a safe home for life. I think that’s pretty amazing. I even cried.”
“You cried?”
“I did, and then Shade hugged me. His hugs are really, really nice. I…I think I know why your wife named him Shade. I’m sorry for thinking it was a weird name when we first met.”
“It is a weird name. That’s okay.”
Her brows squiggle together. “Now you’re being overly nice. What’s up?”
“Nothing.”
“Is that who you really are under all those gruff, I don’t give a shit, don’t talk to me layers?”
“No.”
“I think you’re lying.”
“Why do you think she named him Shade?” I’m holding my breath now, waiting to hear what she has to say.
“I guess,” she says and flushes. She looks down at her knees. “I guess it’s because it’s hot here, and the sun can be unbearable. When he hugged me, I was pretty sad about a lot of things. I guess those tears were for a bunch of reasons. They were pent up, and I couldn’t stop them. He just held me and told me it was okay to be sad and that I wouldn’t be soon, and I just kept thinking about his name and how he was like a shade to someone who is dying of heat and thirst, how he’s like this respite. This amazing, tender, loving, and wonderful shelter for all the wounds we think are never going heal. All those things we feel are never going to be okay again, and then they are. All you have to do is spend a couple of minutes with him to forget about them.”
I have to say, I’m amazed. No one has ever asked me about Shade’s name. They haven’t even thought about it beyond probably assuming it’s some new age thing we picked off a popularly strange and hip baby names list.
“That’s exactly why she named him Shade.” I’m slightly breathless all of a sudden. Breathless and speechless.
I don’t get breathless, and I always have something to say. Who is this person sitting across from me? A woman who, in just a couple of weeks, has been able to accomplish what no one else has in years. She’s seen me, and she’s seen Shade. She’s working her way past all the layers of despair, anger, and indifference I coated my throbbing heart in until it was so muffled that it barely had any room to beat.
Feeney has a gift for it—a gift of seeing, looking, knowing, feeling, caring, challenging,