How To Tame Beasts And Other Wild Things
Page 21
I sweep my hand down her cheek. “Are you okay? You seem off. Was it an argument?”
“No, it was an apology and just some other stuff.” She clears her throat, then walks past me. I follow her out.
“Matilda, you’ll never believe this,” Everit says.
“Tell me?” she answers as she unwraps a coffee cake. My eyes catch a glance at her shaky hands as she twists the plastic wrap with no progress. I take the cake and unwrap it for her.
“Tell her, Imogene, tell her where you’re from.”
“Michigan, Ann Arbor.” Imogene cheers.
“Michigan? Like Dad. A farm as well?” Her exhausted-sounding voice as she answers Imogene surprises me.
“Yes, a horse farm.”
“Any siblings?” Everit asks, looking smitten as he reaches over to stroke her arm. I gawk at their overt friendliness. One night and he’s petting her?
“I had a sister, Hazel,” she says. Then she glances my way. “She was my older sister, died five years ago from cancer.” She clears her throat.
“I’m sorry to hear that.” I reach out to touch her hand as I slide the cake to the center of the table, then sit next to her.
“Oh, thanks.” A weak smile forms on her lips. “We hadn’t found our way to much of a relationship, if I’m being honest. That’s the sad part. Then cancer came and took her before we had the chance to… Ahh…well. ” She shrugs.
I stand and walk over to Matilda who is mixing orange juice in a pitcher. “Why don’t we move near the Christmas tree, I hear some bumping around upstairs, I would imagine the boys will be down any second.” She nods, then I take the coffee cake and we all saunter into the dining room. Everit and Imogene sit together on the couch in close proximity. Matilda sits on the floor, propped against a chair, with her two pigs flanking her thighs. Her fat, fully trained house pigs. She makes Dr. Doolittle look like an amateur.
The boys scuttle down the stairs a minute later screaming and laughing, landing at the base in a pile, until they race to the Christmas tree. The unwrapping of gifts happens in less than ten minutes. And the rest of us are back to getting to know each other.
“So this bucket list thing you’re embarking on, what’s it going to include?”
She reaches for two slices of coffee cake, handing one to Everit who grins and nods. As a blush creeps up her neck and a smile slides across her lips, she covers it with a bite of cake.
“Well”—she waves a hand—“there are lots of things on my list, the Grand Canyon, California, sky diving. Maybe somewhere along the way I’ll even fall in love.” She looks down at her lap. “I’ve never married, never found the right man. I suppose it’s not too late.”
“Never too late,” Everit says, winking at Imogene. I close my dropped jaw after a few seconds.
Matilda rubs her forehead with her hands. I can’t tell if she’s mad or sad or tired. But no question something is going on that I’m not reading. I’m sure she and Everit had words about something, he can set her off like nothing else.
“I’m going on about myself, and really, it’s you guys I’d love to know more about.” Imogene shuffles in her chair. “Matilda, your dad says you live in Paris. I assumed you lived here. You must love France, when are you going back?”
Matilda focuses on scrubbing the pigs’ bellies. I focus on her, wondering how she’ll answer the question. Going back.
“Oh, yeah. Paris is lovely.” Her leg bounces as she avoids everyone’s gaze. “I have an apartment there.” She stares at the front door. Is she going to bolt?
Everit clears his throat and stands with a theatrical stretch. Looks like Lavinia got her acting chops elsewhere. Some kind of silent conversation is going on, and I’m not the one having it.
Matilda jumps up with a grunt, hurrying toward the kitchen. “I’m going to put on another pot of coffee, then hop in the shower. Help yourselves in a few minutes when it’s done.”
She disappears for a few hours while I chat with my mom and Everit. Midmorning rolls around and I put the boys down for their nap, then head back down to the kitchen to find Matilda doing dishes. She’s elbow deep in dishwater, with Ruck perched on her shoulder, nibbling at the top of her ear.
I approach her side. “What was that all about earlier?”
“What was what all about?”
I lean against the sink, and Ruck takes an awkward flight to the top of my head.
“Matilda, don’t play games. You know what I’m asking. ”
When she reaches for the sink, I grab her arm then turn her chin to me.
“Are you fucking going back? Something’s up with you. What is it?”
“No. I mean, I don’t know.” After peeling her rubber gloves off, she tosses them onto the counter.
Christ, I’ve got to handle this right. I take a deep breath as I remove Ruck from my head. “What the hell does that mean?” I take another breath before I yell again. “What exactly would you be going back to? Am I missing something here?”
“I didn’t say I was going.” She growls over her shoulder as she saunters into the pantry.
I follow her. “You didn’t say you weren’t. That’s saying plenty.”
She backs two steps, landing against the wall of canned goods. I cage her with my arms.
“What exactly is going on? Your father got a bit odd earlier, and you didn’t answer my mom. Is everything okay?” I tip her chin up, her eyes dart around. “Hey, it’s me. Please don’t shut me out. Talk to me, love.”
“Balthazar,” she whispers, shoving her hands to her face, “it’s complicated.”
“You sound like me from months ago. What’s complicated? We are not complicated.” I clutch her fidgeting fingers. Calm, calm, calm. “Us, you, and your dad, what? Level with me here. I’m clear about everything except the vibe I’m getting.”
She tries to push past me, but I take the crook of her elbow in my hand.
“We should… Let’s go sit down.”
“Matilda, it’s Christmas morning. I’ve never been happier in my life. Please spit out what’s sitting like rotten milk on your tongue. Say what you need to.”
I follow her to the kitchen table with my gut in knots. We sit, then she turns to me as she wrings her fingers. She exhales slowly as she shrugs. I brace myself when she stands and walks away with her shoulders shaking. I shoot up and step over to her, taking her chin in my fingers to steer her eyes to my face.
“Tell me. What is it? What are you struggling to say?”
“My fiancé is out of a coma. Cort is alive.”
My throat tightens as I suck in a breath. Walking past her, I leave the kitchen and slump into a chair in the den, unable to process our sober moment. With my fingertips bearing down on my face, I inhale against my palms. “You told me he was dead.”
She sits next to me. “He was.” Tears slide down her cheeks as her shaky hand pulls her earlobe. “That’s what the nurse told me. His parents never came to me, only a nurse. I never thought she’d be lying. How could I have known? Who would lie about that?”
“You’re engaged?” The permanence of my words cut my throat as I say them. “Holy Christ, Matilda.” Drinking glasses rattle when my hands slam the tabletop.
She stands and backs away from me. “I feel like a jerk and I have no reason to. I didn’t do anything wrong, but I feel like I have. His parents called me earlier, when I went for that quick walk with my dad. He knows now. He had just told me he was sorry, and that he loved me. We were having this amazing moment for once, then my phone lights up with Cort’s mom’s name.”
“What is this, a soap opera?” I run my hands through my hair then yank it. “Pinch me. Fucking pinch me!” While marching back to the kitchen to escape her words, I sort through my realities.
“He’s asking for me,” she says through a wet whisper, following me. “For me,” she repeats.
This cannot be happening. We were an us. What are we now? We stare at each other through drowning eyes.
“Of
course he is.” My jaw tightens. “He should be asking for you, you’re his fiancée.”
“I want to tell you so many things.” Her trembling fingertips stroke my jaw. “I’m sorry. I’m feeling as duped as you must be.”
I want to be pissed. Want to yell. Want to throw my fist through a wall. Want to run.
“Balthazar.” She pastes a weak smile on. “He’s not… Oh god, I feel so evil saying this.” She walks away from me.
I gaze at her as she twists her finger through a chunk of hair and bites her lips. She might be as crushed as I am, I’d like to call that hope, but I’m sure it’s nothing close.
“He’s not what, love?”
The kitchen door flies open in a repeat of Thanksgiving. Barks of laughter from Imogene and Everit punch the air as the door smacks Aesop, who zips across the floor to Matilda. I catch him just before he bowls her over.
“We have an announcement,” Everit says, looking at Imogene. She beams as Everit’s hand entwines with hers. What fucking now?
“We’re going to explore this bucket list thing together!”
The earth stops.
“Dad, what?” Matilda frowns.
“Life is short. Been an ass most of it. You got the brunt of that, Matilda. Hell, you know. I’ve made mistakes. But now, with cancer…” He shakes his head and throws an arm around Imogene’s shoulder. “Who knew something so grizzly that’s trying to kill me has also saved me. It’s helping me and you have a relationship. It’s giving me the kick in the ass I need to get to know my grandkids.” He chuckles. Then he grabs Imogene’s face and plants a kiss on her cheek. “Hell, I’ve never been one for erratic decisions, but maybe that’s what’s called for when you’ve got nothing left but a ticking bomb inside you.”
Matilda’s mouth drops open as she shuffles to her feet.
“I’m not gonna let this own me. I’m not lettin’ this fuckin’ thing win!” He flips the ceiling off with both hands. “It took your mother. It took Imogene’s sister… The fuck if it’s taking us down without some fun along the way!”
“Us?” I utter.
“Balthazar,” Imogene says. “I made my bucket list when I found out.”
My heart hammers and sinks into my gut. “Found out what?”
“I wasn’t planning on any of this, meeting you, meeting Everit. Cancer.”
“Are you sick too?” They don’t look sick, they look in love. One night, one fucking night? Is this happening? I slam a fist into my leg as Imogene nods and Everit kisses her temple. Is this the kind of shit that happens to people when they get sick? They get crazy?
I want to grab God by the nuts. God’s nuts must be huge. “What the fuck is going on here? Are you all fucking leaving? You just got here! Damn it to hell, every last one of ya!” I have nothing else to say. I’m about to be abandoned. Again.
33
Matilda
I drift forever with the current down these long canals they’ve made,
Tame, yet wild, I run elusive, multitasking to your aid.
Before I came, the world was darker, colder, sometimes, rougher, true
But, though I might make living easy, I’m good at killing people too.
Electricity (or lightning)
“Can we please talk?” I take hold of Balthazar’s arm as he throws his clothes into a bag. “I love you, please don’t shut down. I haven’t done anything wrong.”
This might be the most miserable Christmas day ever. Balthazar is gathering up his stuff and moving to another bedroom.
“Matilda. This is killing me, you are engaged to another man. That needs to be rectified before we share a room.”
“Forgive me, Mr. Holier Than Thou. I thought I was clear about me and Cort. I loved him but, come on, what we have is—”
“What we have is null and void until you break off your engagement. I’m not asking you to do that by the way, I’m just saying that I can’t get in the middle of an engagement. It’s morally wrong, and the man was in a fucking coma!”
“Get in the middle? What the hell? You’re it for me! Why is this even a conversation?”
Balthazar thunders down the hall to the room farthest away from mine with me following. He dumps an armload of clothing and bags on the floor then slumps onto the edge of the bed.
“Are you kidding me?” He shoves his hands through his hair.
I reply through a hard-edged jaw, “Who have you become? Stand up for me, tell me you don’t want me to go, tell me you can’t live without me, tell me something, you fucking pussy! At least tell me you love me!”
“Go to him. End it or marry him. Do what you need to do. I cannot be with you until it’s resolved. And don’t fucking assume for a second I’m not saying everything with those words. Every-fucking-thing!”
“But, you can’t say you love me?”
“I’ll tell you that if you come back.”
“January first.” I swear as I roll over and smack my buzzing alarm clock. Happy New Year. Happy? I’m grasping at straws for anything happy, desperately seeking a silver lining. Here goes; for all the shitty things about cancer, it’s bringing me and my dad together. Brought Imogene and Dad together. Who knows, maybe it gave Imogene the bravery to approach Balthazar in the first place. Crazy that dying can do that. Sounds so cliché, the death card making good between people. How can something so wrong and evil have a silver lining?
As of yesterday, my dad and Imogene have informed us they plan on taking a cross-country bucket list trip soon. I can’t blame them. If I were dying, I think I’d do exactly that. Who am I to say that’s crazy? Even Balthazar, who’s struggling with our relationship status, has agreed—the choice they’re making seems like the right one. I guess, when you start running out of time, you want to fill every second you have left with something joyous. They won’t leave for another few weeks. I’m glad for that as I think Imogene is helping me and Dad find our way through our shit-ton of emotions. Each day we talk a little more, each day we grow closer. I can now say I like him, like being around him. Okay, I love him, I love my dad. What a thing to hear myself saying out loud. Better yet, he returns those very words.
As for me otherwise, I’m a lost soul right now. What kind of person am I to go to Paris? What kind of person would I be if I didn’t? I question how invisible Balthazar’s feeling now. If it’s anything close to how I felt for years on end, it’s wretched. The New Year ringing in usually feels like something to celebrate. I thought that this was going to be an extraordinary year. I didn’t realize bizarre was the true form it would take the shape of.
My nose stings as I exhale and watch my breath vanish. Sliding my wool hat on, I head down the porch steps. There are so many things Balthazar and I need to discuss, and the urgency I feel—before his mind leads him down the wrong paths—is looming. Wandering into the barn as I think through what I need to say, I find him sitting on a stool, milking Cocks.
“What question can you never honestly answer yes to?” I ask as I capture one of the big tabby kittens and zip her inside my coat.
He pinches between his eyebrows. “Are you asleep? Or dead.” His hoarse voice makes my knees go rubbery.
“Balthazar, please look at me.” I bump my hip against his shoulder. “I’m asking for understanding for things I never knew existed. You hardly talk to me anymore.”
He continues milking, avoiding my stare. “Not exactly,” he says gruffly.
I squat next to him. “I didn’t do anything wrong. This shouldn’t get between us. Shouldn’t matter.”
He glances at me. “Sure as fuck does though.”
“I couldn’t have known. They left me out of it.”
“That’s about how I’m feeling.” He pauses as he massages his forehead. “Should’ve stuck with my boys. Don’t need any more complications.”
I lay a hand on his shoulder, and he shakes it off. We’ve come to this? “Please don’t do this. Don’t close me out. We’re better than this. We’re more than this, aren’t we?”
“I don’t know what I’m doing. I’m trying to process.”
“Right, then.” He nods and walks past me. “You do what works for you, what makes you feel right.”
He jerks away as I clutch the back of his coat. Milk sloshes from the bucket when he sets it near the barn door.
“You’re blaming me for something I have no control over.” He walks past me, and into the feed stall. “He was dead. Why are you doing this? You’re making me feel like I don’t matter.” I spread my arms across the width of the stall.
He body-slams me as he storms past. “I know how that feels.” Each time he passes me, as he feeds the animals, I want to grab him, force him to see me. “You should do the right thing. Go to him. You made a promise when you accepted his proposal, you’ve got to keep that.”
“Balthazar, wait.” I grab his arm. “I already told you, I’m not in love with him anymore. It’s you I want.” He pulls away again. I can’t tell if he’s pissed at me or at life in general. “Can we just talk?”
“I’ll buy out your half of the farm. You don’t need to worry about that. Might take me a few years, but I’ll keep my word. I’ve got things to do, got lots to get to.”
“That’s not what I want to talk about.”
“I’ll find a nanny, I’ve let your father know I’ll keep my word on that as well, I’ll marry someone. Can’t be that hard to find a woman who wants this.” After tossing hay to the cow, he glances at me. “You’ve got enough on your plate.”
“Will you shut up and let me talk?” While standing in his way, I grip fistfuls of his coat. “You can’t get me out of here fast enough, can you?”
After backing me one large step to the wall, he cages me in, placing his hands beside my neck. His jaw clenches as he takes deep breaths.