by Diane Munier
Like usual, she stepped away, went in to the bathroom. He tried not to feel…so much. Did he love her?
If he wasn't already on his back, he might be knocked on it now. Did he love her?
"I haven't been away from Seth…since…," she said coming back to the bed to crawl in beside Jordan.
He cleared his throat. He hadn't moved since she left and she crawled back where she'd been, her breath warm on his chest, and she fit there…she fit perfectly.
"How's he doing with it?" His voice sounded weird.
"Pretty well. He misses me, and…I miss him. He sounded…I don't know. I've got a sixth sense for him, and it comes from more than being his mother."
Of course it did, but it worried Jordan, and he stupidly hoped he could be enough, but of course this was her son, and all they'd been through, but still he had a flash of jealousy.
"Are you glad you're here?" he said, knowing he was an asshole.
"Yes," she answered quickly and that helped some.
He'd become so self-centered, he realized. But he only wanted to borrow her…for this short time…this sliver of her existence. He knew he couldn't keep her…or he'd known that five minutes ago. Now he didn't know anything. But he wanted this last week and some change…please.
But now. She stretched. She rearranged herself and leaned her back on the padded headboard, grabbed the remote off her nightstand and clicked on the television.
He slowly, reluctantly aped her posture. Well, the damn phone had broken them apart.
He tried to focus on their surroundings. It was raining outside, the clear slashes marking the big windows, the ocean boiling beyond. Across from the bed the mounted flat-screen showed the morning news. She had the volume all the way down and the words typed across the bottom.
She'd told him how she'd fallen into the habit of television without sound. At first it was her control, trying to set a healthy atmosphere for Seth, one where the voices from the flat screen didn't get to permeate her home while Seth did homework or played in his room or tried to sleep. But now it was her preference.
Jordan liked it, the quiet that allowed the ocean's voice coming from beyond the windows. He had not been able to tolerate much television since the incident, he had not wanted to fill his mind with all the brokenness this world held.
"Seth and I," Cori said, "we've been stuck together so long. I knew it was time to at least…stretch the cord. It's hard to trust, being apart. But…it was time."
She always knew what to say. He wanted to know about this…her son…her relationship with him. He wondered if the boy would ever be open to his mother having someone else. "There was his step dad and…?"
"Just him," she said quietly. "I figured…that was enough. Justin…he called Seth at first, after the…."
"Incident," Jordan said.
"Yeah. He's…overseas. Traveling was always a complication…one I didn't sign up for. I was alone two-thirds of our two years. I married a settled man…a professor…who expanded his career to include overseas travel as soon as our marriage proved difficult. He wasn't ready to be a husband…much less a father. He wasn't ready to learn how to be with us.
"They say it's what men do…cling to what they are good at when their relationships tank. They work."
"Yeah," he said. "We do." Work had always been his life raft. He wondered now why Laura had put up with it. With him. He was telling himself to be quiet and listen, but inside himself, there was dread over what Cori would reveal.
"Justin had never been married. He was a good boyfriend, good at beginnings…sweeping me off my feet, and it took something…I wasn't looking for a relationship. I had Seth and Dad, and our lives worked, and maybe...I didn't trust myself to pick well."
Jordan felt a bit of a sting at that omission. Would she have approached him if she was more cautious? In truth, he didn't think so.
"But…I don't know…Justin found this lonely place in me I didn't even know I had and…turned out it was bigger than I knew.
"So after almost a year I let him meet Seth and initially they got along great. But I kept exposure to a minimum so the problems didn't show until well in to the second year. They didn't seem drastic enough. Seth adored him. He was fun. He was…kind.
"Then right before our wedding…I surprised him at the university where he worked. He wasn't where he was supposed to be, but he came from somewhere else, disheveled…and I looked at him…and I just knew.
"He denied. We broke up. He admitted it, he reformed. He launched a grand campaign to win me back…and I caved. I took him back. My dad was ready to disown me. But we married and it was…okay. I didn't realize…he was only good at beginnings.
"Next I found out about his financial problems. I confronted. He lied. I withdrew. He admitted everything. We got counseling, he got financial counseling. He got on a path, he fell off, I made him account. I stopped sleeping with him. I could barely look at him. He resorted to…jealousy over every move I made, every minute I spent with Seth.
"I found texts…I confronted…he lied. It happened again. He worked with young people. Trust…didn't exist. He was on the emotional level of a teenager. I became his shrew of a mother.
"I also had my dad…my stable, wonderful dad and he showed up in my and Seth's lives like gold against Justin's…asshatery. My dad hated Justin…well any threat to Seth or myself. Dad supported my decision to ask Justin to leave, and I gave him plenty of time to get help, and when that didn't appear to be happening I started divorce proceedings. As soon as he was back in the States after one of his trips, he signed. He was as relieved as I was that it was over. But I still had Seth. And Dad. Well…so…that's me."
In Jordan's mind that took them right back to James. Jordan wondered again if they would always end up there, at the military boots of James Carson. He'd only known Henry Tulley as the murdered chief of police from a nearby town, the body hanging out of the back pew, the dark hair, the arm, the empty hand.
They had just cleaned up breakfast when Cori took the call that Seth had a fever. His caregiver was asking permission to take him to the emergency room. His temperature was spiking one hundred and five. He was a twelve year old boy, but after having a bullet bounce around in his chest, Cori didn't take chances. She told Jordan this as she flew upstairs quickly packing her clothes and personal items. He followed, then stood there fighting the urge to pack a bag, too.
He couldn't ask her not to go, he couldn't do that. Seth needed his mother. But to think she might not make it back to him, well she couldn't. Shouldn't. It was a long trip and…it was just a few days.
"I'll take you," he said. He heard those words and he was as thrown to say them as she seemed to be to receive them.
She had stopped, then slowed, but she was moving again, albeit she was thinking.
"I mean…to the airport…or…whatever you need. I could drive you home. Be with you."
She looked at him and blew some hair out of her face. "It's…not so simple. I wanted you to meet him…but…."
"Tell me what you need."
She slowly finished packing, but she wouldn't look at him while she figured it out. He slowly started to pull his bag out of the closet and think about what to put in it.
"It's a ten hour drive," she said from the bathroom door. Maybe that was easier, her uncharacteristically deferring, allowing him to decide a matter that involved her son.
"I'll stay at a motel. He doesn't have to see me. But I'll be there for you."
She shook her head. "How would that work?"
"I don't know," he said unzipping his shaving kit. "Whatever you need."
She was chewing her lip. "I…is that selfish of me?"
"I asked." Begged, he thought. "I could just take you…and leave. Unless…." A stare-off now, a waiting.
She shook her head. "It's a lot to ask. This is your vacation, your time."
It wasn't. It wasn't even a life. Not now.
"I want to go…if…it would help." And then, "We said t
hree weeks." And he waited.
Chapter 12
Cori was on the phone for the first hour as they sped toward Missouri. She talked to Iris, the caregiver, she talked to Seth, the one cared for. Seth hadn't wanted to go to the hospital. He'd been livid. But his pediatrician said he would meet them there.
Jordan was seeing another side of Cori, focused and direct, strength in her voice, brass in her spine. But inside of her, the churning nougat center—fear.
And a hellacious load of guilt. She'd tried to branch out, reach out by coming to the beach. "Before I conquer backwards living, I need to learn how to go forward," she said, self-loathing, clutching the phone Jordan sensed she wanted to throw to make her point.
He pulled into the rest-stop. It couldn't have come at a better time. He had to piss, yeah, but that wasn't it. He needed to hold her.
"Come here," he said as soon as he stopped the car.
"Jordan…there's no time."
Okay. There was no time. So this was it. No time. And they'd been milking it, time, selfishly milking it, pulling all the nectar out, the sweetness, and now they were duty-bound. Duty was always tapping its foot, waiting, disgusted, its arms crossed, its lips stacked.
"I need to hold you," he said. That's it. That's all he had.
She moved over to him, and he put the seat back and he took her on his lap, and she was closed, a bundle for him to wrap his snaky arms around, a hostage to his…idea.
He kissed her cheek for starters, moved her hair behind her shoulder so there would be no barrier between them. "He's going to be fine. They said a virus."
"He's been through enough," she said fierce. It stung, it just did. But he was patient. He was, by nature, a calming influence on the distraught. And he'd had so much practice.
He held out his hand. "Put them right there."
"What?" she said, her eyes fiery, her voice shaky.
"All your troubles, all your cares."
She stared at his hand for a second. "Jordan." She closed her eyes and swallowed loudly.
"C'mon," he chided.
"I can't. It's too much," she whispered, eyes still closed.
"Then share. Give me half," he said.
She slowly lifted her hand and lightly touched his palm. "I'm sorry," she whispered.
"Hey," he said, and she opened her eyes. "Take a breath. You're not alone."
"Jordan," she moaned, her arms coming around him, her head dropping to his shoulder. He held her there and rocked a little. She was soft on him, finally giving over.
After a couple of minutes she kissed him and straightened before sliding in to her seat. He could feel her sense of duty coming back to life. He reminded her he had half now.
"You've got a way," she said, then she burst in to tears.
He spent the next five minutes letting her cry it out while he kept his arms around her. His shoulder was soaked by the time she quieted down. He dug the small box of Kleenex out of the glove box and wiped at her face and she took over.
She was sniffing and blowing and wiping and still crying and laughing and apologizing.
"Have to take a piss," he said unsnapping his seat belt.
"Oh…so do I." She opened her door and got out. He stepped quickly to her and took her arm. They walked to the center arms entwined. They broke apart at the glass doors and he knew regret. He told himself to get a damn grip, he couldn't accompany her into the john, could he? Damn.
He was out first, at the soda machine, punching for two Cokes, his full of sugar, hers diet.
He had these when she came out, and she seemed a tablespoon less wrecked as she took the can, popped it and drank.
"Thank you…Jordan…for everything. I barged in to your life…." Her statement dwindled and he pulled her to him and kissed the top of her head.
"Jordan," she said very earnestly, drawing back to look at him, "are you…you make me feel so…Jordan…do you think you could ever…."
"Yes," he said. Yes to everything she didn't have words for. Just yes.
They walked back to his car at a normal pace her hand in his. She was crying again, but it wasn't like before. He knew she needed to let it out, he knew she would be alright.
He opened her door and she smiled at him as she got in. She had no idea how endless his patience was when he wanted it to be. At least he was that way…before. Now…he had no idea, but came to her…anything seemed possible.
So he drove and it was quiet, no radio, no music, and he'd taken her hand, moving his thumb over each of her fingers, and she looked at him every few minutes, adoration, no other word, and it got to him, Lord it liquefied any crumb of resistance he had left.
She was lovely in the light, the bright shine, she was lovely in the gray shadow when the sun dipped. She was just lovely.
"You know what? He's going to be fine," she said, getting off her cell for the tenth time. "Iris said they are not going to keep him. They are sending him home. So I dragged you into this…."
"That's good though. That's what…we wanted." Well, he'd wanted it too, in case she was thinking he'd only count this trip worthwhile if Seth was near death.
"We could…eat," he said, eyebrows raised, and she laughed.
"I'm sorry. I lose my appetite when it comes to him. I lost so much weight when he was in the hospital. I'm still…not normal."
"This is the new normal," he said, not serious, but it was what they called it, after loss, in grief-speak. New normal was a bubble way off-center.
"I'll eat if you put it right in front of me…when I'm like that. I just…forget."
"Yeah. I understand." It was all understatement now. He got it. He did.
They were moving toward her life. Real life. 'He was great at beginnings,' she'd said about Justin. Did that mean…what did that mean? Is that why she'd wanted to start at the end with Jordan? It wasn't possible. She'd understood that…right? It was just a game. He probably sucked at the middle, at the end, he was the worst at endings. Talk about duty-bound. He'd stay a course forever.
He'd only made it through the beginning because she had stayed with him, switching the rules, whatever it took to get close to him. But how would it be now? How would they sustain it? There was Seth. And she was so deeply enmeshed with her son…he knew about that. He'd studied that. Going to the beach was her attempt to separate. She'd said as much. He realized now what a big step that had been. Not just the seduction, the manipulation, her declaration she wasn't a woman who could drop her dress…couldn't sustain it. What a leap.
And now that Seth had survived the shooting, her new nightmare…Seth needing her and her not being there. Just like that day…the incident. She couldn't save him.
That was the message wasn't it? That was the gospel now. She couldn't save her father, she couldn't save her son…but she could be vigilant. Oh god…she was that.
"So," he said, "what's going on in that brain of yours?" He said this in that new strange voice he had somehow conjured just for her. His professionalism had been blown to hell. It would never work with her anyway. It had helped him to gain distance from his own emotions and the emotions of others when they needed a leader and not someone as paralyzed by grief as they were. Professionalism allowed the distance…so he could serve…function…be counted on to keep a cool head while someone's world blew to hell…to hell.
"Don't use that on me," Bill would tell him though, to keep him honest. Bill would make him account. How was he doing…really doing…that was Bill's favorite question, and Jordan would try to hold him off…with professionalism and all its bullshit, and Bill would plow right through, all the way to the lava inside, the fatigue and the anger and the disgust and Jordan's promise to himself that he was going to quit ministry and get a real job, one with hours, benefits commensurate with risk, one he could leave at the office because it didn't involve someone's despair, or shitty circumstances, one where when he finished, he put something on a shelf and it stayed, or he was given a task and he could complete it. He wanted that. He wa
nted some damn control as badly as she did.
"Jordan, my hand," Cori whispered.
He pulled away, gripping the wheel. "God, I'm sorry."
"What's going on in your brain? That's the question," she said, her hand coming to his neck, fingers combing through his hair. Oh God, he wanted that…wanted her.
What were they doing in this damn car?
"I…I was thinking about my old boss. Pastor Bill." He laughed but it was forced.
Nothing about this was funny. "I pretty much…ran out on him." Wow. He said it.
Shit. Not now. Not ever did he plan to put it like that.
"You're not a runner," she said.
Well, she didn't know him. "Cori…I am so far from perfect…you know that, right?"
She laughed, but she kept stroking his neck and he tried not to shiver.
"There're restaurants at this exit," she said. "I'm sorry I have such a one-track mind that your needs have been…ignored. God, I'm a total ass."
"Mothers," Jordan teased.
Things lightened between them a little bit. He ordered fast food. At first she didn't want to eat, then decided she'd take ice cream. He scoffed at that and ordered her a meal and ice cream. She protested some, but he could tell she liked it, too. He realized she had probably not been taken care of since her father was killed.
While they waited for their turn at the window she said, "If the people you love aren't safe…nothing means anything."
He stayed quiet, his ears straining.
"It's like…you're spiritually emaciated and the world is cream…and you can't take any of it in," she said, "not a dollop…not a lick."
He waited, and her face was turned from him and she was staring out her window, watching a family, a mom and dad loading two toddlers into their van.
"Sometimes…I want to be them…or anyone…who doesn't know what it feels like…."
He yanked on her hand now, to break her fixation on the little family. "Hey."
She turned to him, and her eyes were shiny and she smiled. "But…you. You're my taste…my bite…."
"I'm right here, you know," he said.
