We feel like family.
As much as I want to fully embrace this, to stop fighting Pat and go full feral cat on him, I’m still so scared of what I might lose. Especially with the court case hanging over my head. Less than a week to go, and everything could change.
Pat seems so steady now beside me, but I’ve watched his pattern over the years, the jumping from thing to thing and person to person. He’s told me himself how, after his injury, he hasn’t found a job he liked or an apartment he kept for more than a year. How can I be sure he’ll stay after the hearing? If Rachel wins custody of Jo, Pat doesn’t have to stay. If I win custody of Jo, Pat doesn’t need to stay. Any outcome, there’s still a chance he could go.
But he’s giving me every indication he will stay. He’s steadier than he used to be, more settled. I can’t believe I’m still harboring doubts when he is constantly bending over backward for me. I’m more than a little ashamed of doubting him. But that doesn’t make the doubts disappear.
“You’re doing so much, and I’m doing so little,” I say. “It feels unfair.”
“In a relationship, sometimes one person needs more help and support than the other. At another time, it may flip. And still other times, it might be totally equal give-and-take. For now, you need support and I’m freely giving it.”
Relationship. He said relationship! I can totally hear Winnie scoffing in my head, because of COURSE he said relationship. We are married—that’s, like the ultimate definition of a relationship. Still, hearing Pat describe us that way gives me a thrill. A thrill somewhere between terror and excitement, just like always when it comes to him.
I grip Pat’s shirt with all the strength I can muster. Despite feeling weak and worn, I’d like to see someone try to pry me off him.
He speaks, his lips almost brushing the shell of my ear. “I cannot imagine anyone caring for and raising Jo better than you, Lindybird. You’ve also been caring for your mama. I’m sure that has been heart-breaking.”
It really has. Anyone who has been through the deterioration of a parent’s memory and brain function knows exactly how much.
“And while you’ve got a great support system here, you’ve done so much on your own. Through force of will and force of caring. You have the biggest heart.”
I sniff, realizing the tears have regrouped and made an appearance again. They’re a little more like happy tears now.
“I don’t have a big heart. It’s all wrinkled and shriveled up. Like a raisin. It’s a raisin heart.”
“Oh, I think it’s bigger than a raisin, darlin’。”
“A prune, then.”
He snorts. “It’s the most beautiful prune heart in the world.”
I try not to let his compliments take root too deeply inside me. I’m not sure whether or not I’m successful. Pat’s arms tighten around my waist and he rests his chin on the top of my head. A little breeze picks up, but it doesn’t chill me. I’ve got my own Pat-heater right here.
“I do have a request,” Pat says.
“Of course. What is it?”
“Come watch my football game.”
This takes me aback. I hadn’t thought about coming to the games, because it’s not like Pat was playing. It just hadn’t even occurred to me he might want my support as a coach. “You want me to come to your game?”
“You and Jo. It would really mean a lot. Coach Bright resigned this week.”
“He did?” I feel bad that I didn’t know, that I haven’t even asked anything about football or Pat’s life.
“Yep. Now, it’s just me and Chevy.” He pauses, and his next words sound like a confession. “I’m nervous.”