HUGE HOUSE HATES: Chapter 26

“You said what to the press?” Tobias says, taking a step forward and balling his fists.

River reads from his phone. “Alden Carlton says of his relationship with Cora Horton, ‘Sex and Art are like two sides of the same coin. Cora and I both take inspiration from our polyamorous relationship in form and emotion.’”

“What the fuck?” Tobias’s eyes narrow like he wants to tear me a new one.

Holding my hands up, palms forward, I shake my head. “I never said any of that. For fuck’s sake. Do I strike you as a guy who likes to parade my sex life in front of the world? I didn’t even tell you about the last woman I was dating because I didn’t want to add complexity. That’s how private I am.”

“So, where the hell did the author of the article get it from?” Mark says.

“For all I know, he pulled it out of his ass. Since when do journalists care about being honest in their articles?”

“Never,” Danny grumbles. “They’re always listing me as shorter than I am.”

“Your dimensions are not our issue right now,” Tobias snaps.

“And what the fuck was Kyle doing here?”

I close my eyes and inhale deeply through my nose. “I didn’t invite him, okay? He just showed up at the front door. I didn’t want to let him in, but he told me he had something important to discuss with me, and no one else was here, so I didn’t see what the harm would be.”

Tobias’s jaw ticks, and he lowers his lids. “You let that asshole into our home.”

“I didn’t want to make a scene on the doorstep.” Even as I say the words, they sound ridiculous. Why the fuck should I care about making a scene where a man like Kyle is concerned. “He tried to tell me that Cora was lying. That she was making the whole thing up. He said that they’d danced together at the club, and he’d kissed her, and she’d responded.”

“That isn’t what Cora said,” River growls protectively.

“I know,” I tell him. “I’m not saying that I believed Kyle. I’m just recounting the conversation. When he was done trying to justify himself, I told him that if I ever saw him again, I’d break his jaw. He left five minutes later.”

“Shit,” Mark says, standing and pacing back and forth. “So Cora must have walked in at some point in that short window.”

“It doesn’t look good. I know that. Combined with the article, she must be thinking I’m a terrible person.”

“She thinks we’re all terrible people,” Danny says.

“Much of that thinking is probably based on the fact that we acted like terrible people when she moved in,” Mark says, shooting Danny an accusatory glare.

“We’re past discussing that,” he replies. “She was as guilty. We’ve gone over that.”

“Yeah, but it doesn’t erase it.”

“Look,” I say, holding my hands up. “None of this is helping anybody . We need to decide what to do.”

“We go over to Maggie’s right now,” River says. “In fact, I don’t know why we’re standing here when we could be on the road and halfway to telling our girl she needs to come home.”

“You really think that will work?” I ask. “Cora’s not the kind of girl who’s going to sit down and have a conversation with us about this. Not when she feels so hurt. Everything that’s happened has just validated the way she felt about us initially.”

“So we make her,” River barks menacingly.

“We need something subtler,” Mark says, nodding at me. “We need to give her time to calm down, hear what we have to say, and then let her form her own conclusion. If she doesn’t, and we pressure her into accepting what we’re saying, we’re only going to end up back here again in the future.”

“So, what are you proposing?” Tobias asks, rubbing his chin.

“We need to speak her language,” Mark says, staring up at the ceiling as though he’s calling on the Almighty for inspiration. “The pots we made.”

“Do you have to keep bringing up that monstrosity?” Danny scowls. “I’ve buried it in the back of my closet. The only reason I didn’t toss it in the trash was that I knew Cora might want to see it at some point.”

“We need to get them out. Each of us needs to write a letter to Cora. We’ll put the letters in the pots and mail them to Maggie.”

“You’re serious?”

“Yep,” Mark says. “Trust me. Girls love big gestures.”

“I thought that big gestures were diamond rings and trips to Paris.” River rolls his eyes, and Tobias snorts with laughter.

“We’re not in some schmalzy rom-com, dude,” I say. “I think Mark is onto something.”

“And what are we supposed to write in the letter?” Danny asks. “I’m not good with words.”

“Whatever’s in your cold, dead heart,” Mark says.

“It’s not so cold and dead since Cora came into our lives.” Danny stands and makes his way to the door. “Guess I better go and find the ugliest pot ever made so it can win me back the heart of the girl I love. And if this doesn’t work…”

“What?” I ask.

“You’re going to be wearing my pot on your head.”

I sit at the desk in my room with a blank sheet of paper in front of me and the best ink pen in my hand. Unfortunately, my mind is empty.

What do you say to a woman who doesn’t trust you? Who believes so little in the connection you’ve forged that she can walk away without even giving you a chance to explain?

All the words sound hollow in my mind.

I stare at the photo in the thin-edged black metal frame that sits on my desk. It’s a picture of me with Mom. She has her arms wrapped around me, and her lips pressed to my cheek. Her eyes are closed but mine are open and bright with the love that’s between us.

I felt that brightness when I was with Cora and my brothers. The rightness that comes with a connection that is rooted deep between people. Why doesn’t she feel the same? Why doesn’t she know and trust us the way I know and trust her?

The photo beside that is a picture of me with Mom and Dad. It was taken on the same day. I’m wearing the same red and white striped shirt and navy-blue shorts. Dad is holding Mom’s hand and gazing at her adoringly. They both have their hands on my shoulders.

And suddenly, I see what I was too arrogant to see before. Cora’s had different life experiences. Yes, I lost my mom when I was little, but she didn’t leave me because she chose to. Cora’s grown up knowing that her dad is out there somewhere and just doesn’t care enough to want to be a part of her life. No wonder she’s quick to believe the worst. Every bad thing that ever happened to her was because of a man.

So what do I need to say? What does she need to hear from me to believe that I’m not going to do the same thing? I start to write without knowing exactly what to say but hoping it’ll be okay as it comes from the heart.

Dear Cora,

I’m so sorry that you had to read those words in an article with my name attached. I’ve never spoken to that journalist and had no idea he was going to invent a quote that would put our relationship into the public eye. I know you value your privacy, and I’m sorry that it has been violated in this way. I have contacted the news channel and asked to have it removed. It won’t erase it for the people who’ve already read it, but I hope it will make you feel better to know that it’s not going to be searchable anymore.

I’m also so sorry that you came home to find Kyle here. I should never have let him in or listened to what he had to say. I can’t imagine how scared you must have been to find him in our home. It was stupid and inconsiderate of me, and I can understand how this must all be weighing on you.

I have a tendency not to want to admit that I’ve made a poor decision. Knowing that I was friends with a man who was capable of hurting you is something I’ve struggled to accept. I have put wanting to understand and process my own issues before you, and for that, I’m so sorry.

I’ve heard that your mom has told you that you need to break it off with us. Our dad has done the same thing. I guess the fact that you didn’t tell us is because you didn’t know what to do. I hope it means that you’re torn because that would give us a glimmer of hope.

We aren’t torn. Not even a little bit. Our father’s threats don’t mean anything to us because we know what we want, and we’re willing to fight for it.

So, I want you to look at this pot, made by my hands; a pot inspired by our relationship and filled with my love for you and my respect for your talents. I will never be able to produce anything as beautiful as you do every day, but I can love you with all my heart. I’m as imperfect as this pot, but I hope you’ll be able to look past that and remember that what we have together is awesome.

Come back to us, baby. I promise that whatever happens, we will work toward always being in your corner.

All my love,

Alden

I look over my words, still not confident that I’ve said enough. I wish that words were the root of my creativity because I’d do anything to be able to write something beautiful that would touch her heart.

I remember a small trinket that I made in high school that I keep in my top drawer. It’s a keyring made of metal, and it’s the thing that inspired me to pursue metalwork as my artistic medium. Engraved on the keyring are two birds which fly together, their beaks jutting forward, and wings spread wide behind them. It feels cool against my skin, and I run my finger over the engraving I did with my boyish hands. I told Cora a few weeks ago about how important it is to me.

Sliding it into the pot with the letter, I hope Cora will find it beautiful, and that maybe it will say something to her that my words can’t manage.