Beloved in the river

Talk to me

I feel her sit up beside me. I roll my head over and put my hand to her back, wanting her to come lay back down.

"Where are you going?" I ask. She turns back around and grabs the shirt that is handing off the side of my bed. She tries to unfold it as her face turns into a frown.

"What?" I ask and then worry flashes all over my body. I sit up and wrap my arm around her shoulders. "Did I not...? I mean was everything okay?"

She smiles, nodding and looking genuine. "It was amazing," she says. "But my mom is going to want me home."

"You've been home. You need time to heal from all of this too," he says. "Just stay here with me."

Betty looks upset, holding the shirt in her hands on her lap and resting her head on my shoulder. I take if from her slowly and kiss the top of her head. I feel her lean closer so I can hold her weight.

"If you were going to leave, you might not want to wear my shirt," I tell her, tossing to the floor with the rest of our strewn about clothes. I pull her down so that she can lay on my chest. I pull her body to mine, feeling her taking comfort in my being able to hold her.

"I meant what I said in the hospital," I tell her, feeling thick emotion begin the back of my throat. "I am so sorry that I wasn't there for you. I should have been...instead of playing sacrificial puppy. I should have been there for you when he was caught. I should have been able to save you from having to hurt your father and watch him try to kill her mother. I never should have let that happen."

"Whoa, Juggie. No. I'm okay," she promises, sitting up and resting her hand on my chest. I look into her perfect eyes and find a certain kind of calm that I can't get anywhere else. But I find something she thinks that she is hiding. Sadness. I squeeze her hand and kiss her forehead, playing with our fingers on my chest.

"No, you're not," I say.

My Betty looks upset but also brave. Too brave. Her slender body is rigid. Her eyes are filled with un-spilled water and her face is tormented with pain. I put my hand on her cheek, right beside her face and curls a small piece of her hair in my finger a few times, letting it wrap around.

"Betty," I prompt. "Come on."

"I don't know," she says.

"You do. You're upset. You're dad—"

"My dad shot my best friend's father, made your dad look guilty, killed so many people, made me break up with you, made me hurt you, made me do the one thing that could really hurt you. And he threatened you, Jug. He was going to..."

Those tears are falling freely down her face as her chest gets lose in sobs. I grab her and pull her close, putting her head on me, right under my chin so that I can hold her entire body in my arms, her small figure wrapped safely in my embrace. Those tears don't stop coming for a while. She cries like this into my bare body and I hold her quietly, shushing or whispering, always clutching her.

"He could have hurt you, Jug," she says.

"But he didn't. I'm right here."

"He did. You said that me breaking up with you was the only thing that could ever hurt you," she says.

"You didn't break up with me," I say. "Archie did."

"Not funny, Juggie."

"Once I knew what was going on and you explained it, I was fine." I pull her face up to mine so that she is looking into my eyes.

"Do you love me?" I ask her.

"Of course, I love you Jughead."

"I love you too," I agree. "He is not going to hurt us anymore." But then I pause and think about what she is going to get out of this. She is clearly upset. She has every right to be. Maybe she just needs to feel like she is allowed to be upset. "But he did hurt you. He scared you. It's okay to admit that."

She nods, putting her head back down on my chest. We lay like this for several hours, only taking breaks to make love under the sheets and then hold each other tightly. At the end of the night, it's almost two in the morning. Betty starts to get her clothes together. After putting on her underwear, I toss her my shirt. She smiles at it but then shakes her head, trying to give it back.

"Why?" she asks.

"You aren't going anywhere, Betty Cooper," I tell her.

"Why not?" she asks, slipping the shirt over her small body and crawling back into bed with me. she rests herself on her side as she watches me.

"You are staying right here with me," I say. "You have a lot more healing to do and I intend on making sure that you get it."

She kisses me and I kiss her back for several long, beautiful seconds. Then she rests her head right on my temple and we stare at each other this way, our arms still a safety barrier between us and the outside world.

"In that case, I guess I'll be staying," she says.

"Yes, you will."