Thank You

When he woke up that morning, she hadn’t been next to him. She wasn’t clinging to him like she had been when they fell asleep. The news that she received was enough to knock her unconscious for a while, but apparently not long enough. When he found her downstairs, all he could do was watch in a daze as she scrubbed the kitchen floor with a sponge.

“You know they make mops, right?” She ignored him, blowing her blonde bangs out of her face, a look of irritation prominent on her face. “Do you want me to get one for you or…”

“I’m fine,” she finally spoke up, dipping the sponge into the bucket she had resting on the ground next to her and pulling it out again to splash water all over the hardwood.

“Want to make you something to eat?” he tried again.

“I’m fine,” she said replied, with more force than last time. His face fell as he watched her concentrate on cleaning one spot for too long. He felt an arm wrap around his waist and nearly jumped at the contact.

“Come with me,” Peyton whispered, shifting her hand from his waist to grab his hand and pull him behind her.

“Pey, I’m really sorry,” he whispered, squeezing her hand. He hadn’t gotten a chance to see her yet, talk to her about anything. He felt terrible. She turned around and smiled, but he could tell it was forced and took most of her remaining energy.

“It’s what she does.”

“Huh?”

“Jess. It’s what she does when something happens that she can’t handle. She cleans. She jogs. She gardens. She does things she can control, if that makes sense. Things to keep her busy…” she sighed and shook her head. “I heard her leave at 5 this morning to go for a run. When she came back, she had a bag of cleaning supplies. There’s no telling how long she’s going to keep this up.” He didn’t want to think about it. He couldn’t put up with her if she was like what he had just encountered in the kitchen. She didn’t even look at him.

“How are the kids?”

“The twins are too young to understand. Olivia keeps trying to make sure I’m okay. So does Kennedy. It’s nice, you know. To have my own family and have them care.”

“It always catches me off guard. I know you’ve been a mom for a while, but you remember the old days?”

“What old days? The ones where you used to hit on me and tell me really inappropriate jokes?”

He closed his eyes and chuckled, shaking his head from side to side. “Not those old days.”

“Oh,” she laughed, welcoming his arm that had wrapped around her body and pulled her close. “Which ones?”

“Remember when you didn’t want kids?”

“Oh. THOSE old days,” she nodded with a small smile. “That feels like suck a long time ago.”

Austin didn’t say anything. He only nodded and took a seat on the piano bench that was slightly pulled out.

“Just give her time. Mom was probably her favorite person in the world.”

“Kind of like you and your dad.”

“Exactly like that,” she sighed and kissed his cheek, turning around to go be with her family, he assumed. He scooted around and stared at the piano. This was how he dealt with things. This was all he knew. He shook his hands and lightly placed them over the keys. Closing his eyes, he pressed his fingers down on a few of them and listened to the sound that was emitted from the piano. It was out of tune, but that didn’t bother him. A few more notes and he heard footsteps running rampant on the hardwood.

“What are you doing?” He didn’t even open his eyes before he answered.

“I’m glad your vocabulary has expanded beyond, ‘I’m fine.’”

“Stop,” she demanded. He opened one of his eyes and focused on her. His finger pressed down on the next key and he could tell the sound rubbed her the wrong way. “I’m not kidding.”

“I’ll stop,” he started, closing his eye again, “when you tell me why,” he finished, singing as he pushed on more of the keys.

She slammed the fallboard down on the top of his fingers and he cringed as the pain shot through his hands. “Just stop,” she said, calmly this time. Austin stood up and forced his hand through his hair. They were going to be sore. This wasn’t how it was supposed to be. He was supposed to be there for her. He was supposed to take all of the bad away, protect her from those fears and demons that seemed to follow her around. She wasn’t supposed to feed him cliché lines about being “fine” and cause pain to his body with a fucking piano.

His face softened when he saw her eyes glaze over.

“Hey,” he said softly, standing up and stepping away from the bench towards Jessica. “Talk to me.” She shied away from the hand that was reaching for her. He held in his sigh and pocketed the hand, knowing that whatever he did was more than likely not what she needed.

“Just… stop touching things,” she demanded, her voice so soft he had to strain to listen. He reached out again but she had already retraced her steps back to the kitchen, where she continued to scrub the place she left off.

The rest of the day continued in the same pattern. Nothing he did was right. He didn’t say the right thing. He was in the way. He set something down in the wrong spot. He breathed.

“Don’t take it too personally,” was all Peyton told him when she offered to take him to dinner and get him out of the house. It was just the two of them and Kennedy. Ted took the kids for the day. He had to get his mind off of it too. “Jessica’s not good at handling things. This is her processing time.”

“I understand that,” he nodded, taking a sip of his beer before he continued. “It’s like I don’t even know her, though. I’ve been there for her every time she’s needed me since we met. She won’t let me be there for her this time. It’s like I’m adding more stress to her life when all I want to do is take some of it away.”

“Maybe you ARE adding stress to her life,” Kennedy spoke up. Austin and Peyton stared at him, waiting for him to continue his train of thought. “Well. I mean, she’s been through what is probably the most terrible thing to happen in her life so far. I mean, it happened yesterday for heavens sake. I think that you just need to back off and let her come to you.”

“That’s just it. Knowing Jessica, she won’t,” Austin shook his head and took another sip of his beer. He really wanted a cigarette.

“She will,” Peyton shrugged. “And if she doesn’t… well… you’ll still be one of my closest friends but I won’t pick sides in the divorce.”

“Shut up,” Austin grunted, kicking her leg under the table.

“Hey!”

“Don’t kick my wife!” Kennedy jumped in. Austin chuckled and relaxed back into his chair.
“How are you holding up, Pey?” Austin asked.

“I’m okay. As good as can be expected, I guess,” she shrugged. “I wasn’t really close to mom, but it still hurts. I don’t even want to think about the funeral.” Neither did he. Or, rather, he didn’t want to think about Jessica having to deal with the funeral. He didn’t think she was going to be able to emotionally handle that. All he could think about was her; alone at the house, cleaning things that didn’t need to be cleaned. He was sure she was still at it. He didn’t know what awaited him when he got back to the house, but he knew that he would take whatever it was she threw at him. He wasn’t going anywhere.

//\\//\\//\\

He felt the bed shift with her weight as she finally lay down next to him. It had to have been nearing 3 am. He took their advice and didn’t bother her when he came home. He only checked to see what she was cleaning at the time, which was the downstairs bathroom. She glanced at him when he passed her, but no words were exchanged. She barely spoke to him all day, and as much as he didn’t want it to, it bothered him. He didn’t want to be that guy.

“Austin,” she whispered, so lightly that he had to make sure he didn’t imagine it. “Are you awake?” she continued, hope evident in her voice.

“Yes,” he said, keeping his eyes closed. “I am.”

“I just wanted to say that I was sorry.”

“For what?” he asked, opening his eyes and trying to see her through the dark. His eyes hadn’t adjusted yet.

“For the piano thing this morning.” He had forgotten all about it. His hands had stopped hurting sometime throughout the day.

“S’okay,” he said, reaching for her but immediately retracting his hand. If he was going to give her space, he needed to fight his instincts. He never realized how touchy of a guy he was until today. He wasn’t that good at giving people space, and he knew that now.

“It’s not. I just,” she let out a shaky breath and he could hear the thickness in her throat, that sound that happens when someone is trying to hold back tears. “That piano was my mom’s favorite thing about this house. I just didn’t want you touching it and I’m not even sure why. I guess it’s stupid,” she sniffled and he still had to fight the urge to reach for her.

“Hey, it’s not stupid. If I’d have known that, I wouldn’t have even laid a finger on it.” She was silent for a while, so long that he thought she fell asleep.
“She used to play me something every single night. Up until I moved out. It didn’t matter how old I got, I always made her play me something. I guess that piano is my favorite piece of this house, too.”

He didn’t know what to say. Nothing that came out of his mouth would be able to take her pain away and he knew that. He kept quiet, waiting to see if there was more.

“When I was younger, I carved my initials on the inside of the piano bench. I have no idea why I chose there, I knew she would see it. That’s where she kept her songbooks. I remember the day she spotted them. She called me downstairs and asked me to explain why I did it.” She paused to take a deep breath and then continued. “I mean, why does anyone carve their initials into something like that? I was bored. I thought she was mad.,” she let out a shaky laugh. “So I started to immediately cry, but she told me stop. She got a knife and carved her initials right next to mine. She told me that one-day, long after she was gone, I would remember that. I would remember it and I would always be reminded of how much she loved me.” Her voice was laced with hurt and tears, but she continued. “And I did. She was right.”

He physically couldn’t take it anymore. He needed to touch her, to hold her, to tell her that it was going to be all right. His hands snaked around her waist and he pulled her body close to his. He hated seeing her like this. He missed the carefree Jessica he was used to seeing. He wasn’t used to the vulnerable Jessica. He whispered things that he thought would make her feel better into her ear while he ran his fingers through her hair. He did that until she fell asleep. He wasn’t used to being with someone who was such a whirlwind of emotion, but he was starting to. For her, he would have to. He wasn’t losing her this early in the game. He wasn’t planning on losing her ever. Whatever she threw at him, he could take.

If only he knew.