Wendell stayed at the top of the ramp.<\/p>\n
I stood beneath the photographs, still holding my purse against my side.<\/p>\n
Neither of us moved.<\/p>\n
I had imagined asking him a hundred questions about his house.<\/p>\n
I had never imagined finding him speechless in his own garage.<\/p>\n
He took the pencil from behind his ear and held it loosely in his hand.<\/p>\n
Then he looked at the yellow paper again.<\/p>\n
I followed his gaze.<\/p>\n
For my Winnie.<\/p>\n
The words seemed different now that he knew I had read them.<\/p>\n
I wanted him to explain them.<\/p>\n
I wanted him to tell me why they were there and why he had never mentioned them.<\/p>\n
Most of all, I wanted him to look at me the way he usually did, with that quiet warmth that had made me feel safe around him.<\/p>\n
Instead, he looked frightened.<\/p>\n
Not angry.<\/p>\n
Frightened.<\/p>\n
That distinction mattered to me, although I couldn't have explained why at the time.<\/p>\n
"Winona," he said again.<\/p>\n
I swallowed.<\/p>\n
"What is this, Wendell?"<\/p>\n
He glanced at the photographs.<\/p>\n
Then he looked down at his shirt, brushing at a patch of sawdust that wasn't going anywhere.<\/p>\n
"I can explain."<\/p>\n
I almost laughed.<\/p>\n
Not because anything was funny.<\/p>\n
I had heard those words from people who wanted to delay telling the truth.<\/p>\n
I had probably used them myself.<\/p>\n
"Then explain."<\/p>\n
He opened his mouth, but nothing came out.<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
I had waited months for him to let me understand the private part of his life.<\/p>\n
Now I was standing in front of him, and he seemed unable to give me even the first sentence.<\/p>\n
I looked back at the paper.<\/p>\n
"Why did you write my name?"<\/p>\n
His expression softened at that.<\/p>\n
For the first time since he had appeared in the doorway, he seemed able to breathe.<\/p>\n
"Because I wanted to."<\/p>\n
That answer was so simple that I didn't know what to do with it.<\/p>\n
I looked at the photographs again.<\/p>\n
"You put these here for a reason."<\/p>\n
"I did."<\/p>\n
"And the date?"<\/p>\n
He lowered his eyes.<\/p>\n
"That too."<\/p>\n
I felt a small, sharp disappointment.<\/p>\n
He had confirmed that everything was deliberate without telling me what any of it meant.<\/p>\n
I had spent too long living on half-answers.<\/p>\n
I didn't want another one.<\/p>\n
"Are you going to tell me why?"<\/p>\n
He nodded slowly.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
Then he stopped.<\/p>\n
I could hear the radio behind me.<\/p>\n
Some country singer was carrying on about a woman and a mistake, and the ordinary sound of it made the silence between Wendell and me seem even stranger.<\/p>\n
I adjusted my purse on my shoulder.<\/p>\n
I was suddenly aware of how uncomfortable I felt standing there, as though I had walked into a room where I wasn't supposed to be.<\/p>\n
That was an old feeling by then.<\/p>\n
I was tired of it.<\/p>\n
"Did I do something wrong?"<\/p>\n
His head came up immediately.<\/p>\n
"No."<\/p>\n
"Then why do I feel like I have?"<\/p>\n
He set the pencil on a nearby workbench.<\/p>\n
"You haven't done anything wrong, Winnie."<\/p>\n
I wanted to believe him.<\/p>\n
I also wanted more than reassurance.<\/p>\n
I wanted the truth that was supposed to come after it.<\/p>\n
He stepped down the ramp, stopping a few feet away from me.<\/p>\n
I noticed the sawdust on his shirt again.<\/p>\n
It seemed like such a normal thing, and I found myself wishing the moment could become normal too.<\/p>\n
I wanted him to smile.<\/p>\n
I wanted him to tell me I had misunderstood something.<\/p>\n
I wanted to go home knowing that the questions I had carried for months were finally behind me.<\/p>\n
But Wendell didn't smile.<\/p>\n
He looked at the paper as if it held a promise he had made a long time ago.<\/p>\n
"I didn't expect you to find it like this," he said.<\/p>\n
"How did you expect me to find it?"<\/p>\n
He rubbed his hands together.<\/p>\n
"I don't know."<\/p>\n
That answer sounded honest.<\/p>\n
It was also frustrating.<\/p>\n
I shook my head.<\/p>\n
"I've been wondering about your house for a long time."<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
"Do you?"<\/p>\n
He looked at me.<\/p>\n
I couldn't tell whether he understood the hurt behind that question.<\/p>\n
"I know I've made it difficult."<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
He looked toward the photographs once more.<\/p>\n
"I never wanted you to feel shut out."<\/p>\n
"But I did."<\/p>\n
The words came out more quietly than I expected.<\/p>\n
That made them harder to take back.<\/p>\n
Wendell's face changed.<\/p>\n
He looked older for a moment, not in the way age changes a person's features, but in the way regret can settle over somebody who has finally heard the damage caused by a decision.<\/p>\n
"I'm sorry," he said.<\/p>\n
I believed that he was sorry.<\/p>\n
I still didn't know what he was sorry for.<\/p>\n
The distinction mattered.<\/p>\n
I stepped closer to the wall and pointed toward the yellow sheet.<\/p>\n
"Is this about Christmas?"<\/p>\n
He followed my finger.<\/p>\n
"Partly."<\/p>\n
"Partly?"<\/p>\n
He gave a small, helpless nod.<\/p>\n
I almost asked another question.<\/p>\n
Then I stopped myself.<\/p>\n
I had spent months trying to pull information out of him one careful question at a time.<\/p>\n
I didn't want to spend the rest of our relationship doing that.<\/p>\n
If he had something to tell me, he needed to tell me.<\/p>\n
I looked at him.<\/p>\n
"I'm not asking you to have a perfect house."<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
"I don't care if you've got work everywhere or things you haven't finished."<\/p>\n
"I know that too."<\/p>\n
"Then I don't understand why you've kept me away."<\/p>\n
He looked down at the floor.<\/p>\n
For a few seconds, I thought he might retreat into silence again.<\/p>\n
Instead, he took a breath.<\/p>\n
"There are things I wanted to get right first."<\/p>\n
I studied him.<\/p>\n
"What things?"<\/p>\n
He looked at the photographs.<\/p>\n
"Things that matter to me."<\/p>\n
I felt the old frustration rise in my chest.<\/p>\n
He had done it again.<\/p>\n
He had offered me a sentence that sounded meaningful without telling me what it meant.<\/p>\n
But something in his voice stopped me from answering sharply.<\/p>\n
He wasn't trying to make me feel foolish.<\/p>\n
At least, I didn't think he was.<\/p>\n
He looked like a man who had been carrying a heavy object for too long and had finally realized he couldn't set it down without somebody noticing.<\/p>\n
I had seen that expression before.<\/p>\n
Dwight had worn it during difficult conversations, when he wanted to say something important but didn't know how to begin.<\/p>\n
The memory softened me.<\/p>\n
It also reminded me that Wendell wasn't Dwight.<\/p>\n
I couldn't rely on the habits of one man to explain another.<\/p>\n
I had to let Wendell speak for himself.<\/p>\n
"All right," I said.<\/p>\n
He looked up.<\/p>\n
"All right?"<\/p>\n
"I'm listening."<\/p>\n
For the first time, he seemed relieved.<\/p>\n
But he didn't begin immediately.<\/p>\n
He walked to the workbench and picked up a folded cloth, then set it down again without using it.<\/p>\n
I watched him struggle to find his words.<\/p>\n
I didn't help.<\/p>\n
It wasn't punishment.<\/p>\n
I simply needed to know whether he could cross the distance between us without making me do all the work.<\/p>\n
Finally, he turned back toward me.<\/p>\n
"There's something I want you to understand before I tell you anything else."<\/p>\n
I waited.<\/p>\n
He looked at the paper.<\/p>\n
"I didn't put your name there by accident."<\/p>\n
I felt my eyes sting again.<\/p>\n
"I figured that much out."<\/p>\n
A faint smile crossed his face.<\/p>\n
It disappeared almost immediately.<\/p>\n
"I mean it, Winnie."<\/p>\n
"I know."<\/p>\n
He took another breath.<\/p>\n
"And December twenty-fourth matters."<\/p>\n
I glanced at the date.<\/p>\n
"Why?"<\/p>\n
He looked at me for a long time.<\/p>\n
Then he said, "Because I wanted that day to be different for you."<\/p>\n
I didn't answer.<\/p>\n
I wasn't sure I could.<\/p>\n
There were so many things I wanted to ask that I couldn't decide which one mattered most.<\/p>\n
Different how?<\/p>\n
What had he planned?<\/p>\n
Why hadn't he told me?<\/p>\n
And why did the words on that wall make me feel as though I had been loved in secret while standing outside the door of the very person who loved me?<\/p>\n
I looked at Wendell.<\/p>\n
"Can you tell me the rest?"<\/p>\n
He nodded.<\/p>\n
"Yes."<\/p>\n
This time, he didn't look away.<\/p>\n
Wendell stayed at the top of the ramp. I stood beneath the photographs, still holding my purse against my side. Neither of us moved. I had imagined asking him a … <\/p>\n","protected":false},"author":1,"featured_media":17888,"comment_status":"open","ping_status":"open","sticky":false,"template":"","format":"standard","meta":{"footnotes":""},"categories":[1],"tags":[],"class_list":["post-17893","post","type-post","status-publish","format-standard","has-post-thumbnail","hentry","category-feel-every-story"],"_links":{"self":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17893","targetHints":{"allow":["GET"]}}],"collection":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts"}],"about":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/types\/post"}],"author":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/users\/1"}],"replies":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcomments&post=17893"}],"version-history":[{"count":1,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17893\/revisions"}],"predecessor-version":[{"id":17913,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/posts\/17893\/revisions\/17913"}],"wp:featuredmedia":[{"embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=\/wp\/v2\/media\/17888"}],"wp:attachment":[{"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fmedia&parent=17893"}],"wp:term":[{"taxonomy":"category","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Fcategories&post=17893"},{"taxonomy":"post_tag","embeddable":true,"href":"https:\/\/feeleverystory.online\/index.php?rest_route=%2Fwp%2Fv2%2Ftags&post=17893"}],"curies":[{"name":"wp","href":"https:\/\/api.w.org\/{rel}","templated":true}]}}