Perfectly Undone. Jamie Raintree
open beer bottles and four bare feet kicked up on a cooler between them. The trees shade them from the fading sunset but capture their laughter like fireflies in a mason jar.
“Hey,” I say.
“Dylan,” Stephen calls, not turning but holding up his beer in greeting.
Cooper makes the effort, flashing one blue eye, half a smile and his fallen-down hair at me. My heart flutters. He still gets to me. After all this time, he gets to me.
“Hey, babe,” he says. “Come here.”
I wade through the rain-damp grass in my bare feet. It’s been too long since I’ve taken this path, through the yard and down the broken stepping-stones to the wooden bench next to the creek. The crisp air nips at my skin as night descends.
When I reach Cooper, he uses one strong hand to pull me onto his lap, and I fall into his familiar angles, the faded breath of his cologne. His warm hand resting on my hip has become less familiar, though, over these last six months as I’ve focused more and more on my research grant. I feel it acutely.
“Beer?” he asks. I shake my head but take a swig of his. He rests his chin on my shoulder and watches me. It catches me off guard—this act of intimacy. Like I’ve only just realized we’d come to an unspoken agreement that intimacy would come again later—after—but Cooper’s exhibiting the weak spot in his willpower.
“Guess what,” I say, my voice airy, a try at excitement. Or maybe it’s the lump in my throat.
“You got it,” Cooper says. Stephen raises his eyebrows.
I nod. “I got on the research clinic schedule. My spot is guaranteed as long as the grant is approved.”
“Which it will be.” Stephen is quick to assure me, his face lighting up. “Damn, Dylan. Congrats. I’ll drink to that.”
I laugh. “Thank you. But I don’t know how meaningful that is. You’ll drink to anything.”
“And I’ll drink to that.” He winks, raises his bottle in a salute and follows through.
I turn to Cooper, my stomach tight as I wait for his response.
“I’m happy for you, Dylan,” he says. His smooth fingers twist their way through my ponytail, not looking at me. “I knew you’d get it.” There’s tightness in his voice. Still, he presses a kiss to my forehead, pulls me closer to him.
“Thanks,” I say, though I’m not reassured. Now that the possibility of getting the grant is so real, the pressure to do the right thing for my family—for Abby—is almost suffocating. I had hoped Cooper would remind me that this is the next big milestone in our shared dream for the future. This is a good thing. A great thing. I should have known I was hoping in vain.
I clear my throat. “So, what? Are you guys out here reliving the glory days?”
The hint of spring in the air reminds me of studying for finals and opening the windows in the little apartment Cooper and I used to share in the city; of when the three of us spent so much time at our favorite spot in the forest next to the Willamette River, drinking into the night by the light of a feeble campfire. We talked about what life would be like when Stephen was a sought-after neurologist, Cooper was a partner at a patient-focused pediatric practice and I had discovered the secret to diagnosing early pregnancy complications before the mother’s body knows something is wrong itself. Back when the path was simple and our whole lives were ahead of us.
Now Stephen is an attending neurologist at the hospital where we completed our residencies—the same hospital where I work. Cooper is at a practice he loves and is, any day, bound to be recognized for the amazing doctor he is. And I...I have grant paperwork to fill out.
Stephen laughs and runs his hand through his shaggy hair. “I guess so. All we’re missing is the fire.”
“You are not starting my backyard on fire,” Cooper says.
“Might do it some good,” Stephen mutters behind his bottle.
Cooper kicks Stephen’s feet off the cooler, making them both laugh like kids. They always have fought like brothers, even before it became official. Cooper couldn’t have been happier when his best friend married his younger sister four years ago. Stephen was a force of nature—women, alcohol, adrenaline—before he fell in love with Megan. He reminded me of the way I was before I met Cooper—shallow encounters with men I hardly knew, detached, angry. Megan was exactly what he needed. The same way Cooper was what I needed.
“Behave, children. Where’s Megan tonight?” I ask. Being that she’s an elementary school teacher, she’s better than I am at keeping the guys from getting too raucous.
Stephen shrugs. “Busy.” He finishes off his beer.
“Which is what I should be.”
“Can’t you stay a little longer?” Cooper asks softly. “Celebrate?”
“I wish I could. I have to get my application done. Vanessa’s waiting for it.”
He nods, leans forward and kisses me slowly until my thighs quiver. It’s been so long since he’s kissed me that way.
“What’s gotten into you?” I whisper. Before he can answer, my pager buzzes on my waistband and Cooper’s body deflates.
“I have a—”
“Delivery,” Cooper completes for me. I nod. He purses his lips, then sighs. “I’ll see you when you get home.”
“See ya, Doctor,” Stephen says when I stand to leave. He winks as if to say it will all be okay.
* * *
I get home after midnight with every intention of sneaking into the office to work on my application for a few hours before bed. When I see the glow from Cooper’s bedside lamp coming from our room, though, I know Cooper is waiting up for me.
I go to him and find him in his reading glasses, holding a copy of Game of Thrones open on his chest. I stop in the doorway and lean my head on the door frame. The lamplight on Cooper’s face makes him look even more boyishly handsome, if possible. He hasn’t aged a day since I met him. It’s possible working in pediatrics keeps him young at heart, but there was so much about him that was childlike already. If opposites attract, maybe that’s what drew us together. I was forced to grow up too soon.
“Is everything okay?” he asks.
The telltale line of worry is drawn across his forehead.
“Of course,” I say.
He nods. He knows it’s just me trying to convince myself. I cross to my side of the bed while Cooper sets his book and glasses aside. I climb in next to him.
“Listen.” He shifts downward and brings his hands together in front of his lips, the way he does when we’re about to have a serious conversation. I sigh inwardly. “I know you’re really focused on your grant right now. And I know you go through these phases, so I try to give you your space. You don’t like to feel boxed in, and I get that.” He reaches down to brush his fingertips down my thigh. “You always come back to me eventually. But, I don’t know... I guess I keep hoping at some point we’ll get past the push and pull. I keep hoping that instead of blocking me out when things get tough, you’ll open up to me and let me be there for you. It’s been nine years, babe. When are you going to finally start trusting me?”
“Cooper, it’s not about trust. And you are here for me. So much more than you realize. Once I get this grant—”
“Once you ace this test. Once you graduate. Once you finish your internship.” He cuts me off with the list of promises I’ve made him, always putting my guilt over Abby first. Because my guilt over hurting Cooper can still be forgiven. Cooper is still here. Abby isn’t.
I close my eyes in an attempt to hide from his words, to go somewhere else in my mind.
For a few minutes,