The Solemn Vow

by Bree Dahlia

He grips harder. “She was sick. What the fuck was she supposed to do?”

  By sick, he means addicted. One who OD’d when he was two. He never knew his father. His mother’s sister was the only family he had, so he was carted off to live with her and her husband. I know I’m grasping at anything dangling, but I’m trying to piece together any possible reason for his change in character.

  “I’m only wondering if you associate this house with something negative.”

  “You should’ve become a shrink. At least then you would’ve gotten paid for it.”

  I do my damnedest to ignore the sharp barb, but it digs deep. “Please just talk to me.”

  “About what?” He faces me then, a wild look in his eye as he grabs at his hair. “My family? I’ll tell you what. You start. Let’s have a little chat about your father.”

  “Cain.”

  “Oh wait, you don’t talk about him.”

  “It’s not the same thing.”

  “You’re right. My mom’s not here because I don’t have a choice. Your father’s not here because of your choice.”

  “Then what about your—”

  He slams his fist on the counter, making the dishes rattle. “Fuck, Maddie. Enough already. Was this the whole purpose of your special night? To piss me off?”

  “I just wanted you to be happy for me,” I say softly.

  “Yeah, and I just wanted you to know when to quit.”

  He charges off, leaving me alone to reassemble the jagged shards of my heart lying all over the room.

  I don’t understand.

  I. Don’t. Understand.

  I remain on the kitchen chair, hugging my legs to my chest. I press my cheek down on one knee and listen to the commotion upstairs, wondering what the fuck he’s doing now. He’s exhausted. He should go to sleep. I need him to so I can have silence.

  My phone is still resting where I left it. I get up and bring it back to the table.

  I just want to say thanks for the pep talk. I took a chance, and now a small publisher is interested in me.

  This time I contact Jake with all purpose, no accident. I wait for a twinge of regret, but it doesn’t come.

  I don’t care if he texts back because I already accomplished my goal—I shared my news with someone who can appreciate what it’s like to live your dreams. He’ll understand how much this means to me. He thinks my designs are good enough for permanent adornment, for God’s sake.

  My wineglass is empty, but I don’t replenish it. I wait until the noise dies down, and then I wait another half hour before going upstairs.

  As I hoped, Cain’s asleep. I get ready for bed and slip in quietly next to him. I’m just dozing off when my phone chimes on the nightstand.

  With a heavy limb, I reach over and pull it into bed. I peek open an eye, shielding the light with the pillow.

  Congratulations, Maddie. I knew you could do it. I hope you’re celebrating hard right now. You deserve it.

  Cain rustles beside me. “Who’s that?” he grumbles.

  “Rowan.”

  The lie slips out easily.

  Eleven

  I got the job.

  Sharon called and said she loved the drawing I sent her, the zany spin I put on it. She’s aware of my inexperience, but I have the talent and credentials to make it worth the risk. If my doppelganger were here, we’d high five each other.

  I did it. I freaking did it, and nothing can shoot down the high I’m riding.

  My next step is to create a series of thumbnail sketches. The more, the better. My main focus right now is to brainstorm.

  I don’t tell Cain. Why bother until the first deposit’s in the bank?

  I’m bursting out of my chair, so I leave my papers scattered all over the table and take a quick break out to the back porch with my cell.

  Guess what?

  I perch on top of the semirotted wooden rail, then think better of it. At best, I’ll probably get an inch-long splinter in my ass. At worst, I’ll crash right through. I’m hopping off when the chime comes.

  Don’t keep me in suspense. I can’t take it.

  I smile. You’re texting with the official illustrator of Pachyderm Parade: So you want to work with elephants?

  Was there ever a doubt? Never for me.

  I hold the phone to my chest. Maybe not for him, but not everyone has that same belief in me. My phone chimes again.

  Elephants are awesome.

  I laugh. Yes, they are. I’m getting a crash course in them right now. Did you know they’re as emotional as we are?

  In what way? Tell me more.

  He’s familiar enough for me to know he’s being serious. I’ll teach him elephant lore all day if he wants me to. I’m typing out a response about them crying actual tears and mourning their dead when I get a different idea. I stop the text and call him instead.

  “Hey,” he says in that swoony voice. “This is much better.”

  I watch a hawk swoop down into the field. “Yeah,” I finally say. I tell myself I’m only talking to a friend, nothing different than I’d do with Rowan. Of course, I’ve never had sex with Rowan.

  “I’m proud of you, Maddie.” I tell my heart to be still, but it absorbs his words like they’re life-sustaining therapy. “You’re making your dreams come true.”

  “Thank you.”

  “Now about those elephants….”

  I throw back my head and laugh hard, relieved that we’ve moved on from the seriousness.

  “What are you doing?”

  I freak, letting out a yelp, nearly whipping my phone to the ground. “God, Cain. Don’t scare me like that.” I quickly end the call with a shaky hand.

  “Who are you talking to?”

  The temperature shoots up twenty degrees. I can feel the sweat beading on my forehead. “Uh, Rowan. Why are you home?”

  He doesn’t question why she’s not at school, doesn’t ask why I hung up without saying goodbye, just eyes me as I pluck at my cuticles. “I forgot something and had to come back. Is there a problem with that?”

  “Of course not.”

  I let out a breath when he pulls his head back inside and walks away. I inhale the fresh air another few minutes, soothing the ruthless pounding in my throat before following suit. I go back to the table and pick up my pencil like nothing happened.

  I’m wondering if he left when he returns to the kitchen. I watch him in my peripheral as he pours a glass of water and chugs it down.

  “It must be nice,” he says.

  “What’s that?” I stare down at my paper, doodling shapes that have no relevance to what I’m supposed to be doing.

  “To sit around and play all day.”

  I yank my head up. “Excuse me?”

  He comes over, waving his hand around the table. “Kicking back, coloring pictures, gabbing on the phone, going out for long lunches. Must be nice to lead such a pampered life.”

  My mouth opens, but I don’t let anything spill out. Why poke the dragon? I could tell him I’m now a real children’s book illustrator, but I don’t. All I do is wait for him to leave again.

  Fortunately, he doesn’t stick around to criticize further. The moment I’m sure he’s out of the driveway, I grab my phone. I can’t let this happen again. My insides are still a wad of jelly littered with rocks.

  I have to be more careful, I type. From now on, we can only text.

  “Don’t forget, Rowan’s coming this weekend.”

  I’m munching on a bowl of cereal while Cain guzzles his third cup of coffee. I’m at the table, and he’s leaning over the island, staring at his laptop. I try to remember the last time we sat together and enjoyed each other’s company.

  “You planning on paying her way again?”

  “What are you talking about?”

  He faces the screen toward me, and I squint to focus. “MasterCard bill. Either you ate a hell of a lot that day you met her for lunch, or you covered the whole tab. Not to mention driving all the way out to her.”


  “I did pay. So what? It’s only fifty bucks.” And the whole additional five dollars in gas is worthy of an eye roll, but I refrain.

  “Only? Way to be careless, Maddie.”

  I push my bowl away. “What’s your problem? This is Rowan we’re talking about. You know she doesn’t take advantage.” In fact, she foots the bill just as often.

  “The problem is you pissing away money like it means nothing.”

  “Are you serious? I barely spend anything. And this issue about me paying for lunch? How many times have you yourself offered to cover it when we were all out?”

  “That was different. We weren’t living in a shit hole then.”

  “If it’s really so horrible for you, why don’t we move?” I don’t know why this never came to mind before. Could it be that simple? If Cain was a patient and loving and kind husband before the house, I’d like to believe he’ll be the same after. “Even if we have to go back to an apartment and start our family there. That’s always an option until—”

  “And lose thousands? Do you honestly believe someone is going to buy this place? We’d probably have to pay them to take it off our hands.” He flings his mug into the sink, and I’m amazed it doesn’t shatter. “And a family? Do you think I want to bring kids into this fucked-up situation?”

  I feel like I was just sucker-punched. This is the first time I’ve ever heard him imply anything other than wanting a family as soon as possible. The milk in my bowl looks curdled, and I’m certain it was that way when I slurped it down. The brown blobs floating around are doing nothing to ease my churning stomach.

  “You’re saying you don’t want kids anymore?”

  “God, it would be nice if you listened to me once in a while.” I can’t even look at him at this point. “What I’m saying is we’re a long ways off before we can even think of subjecting a kid to this train wreck. What kind of selfish bastard do you think I am?”

  So, what does it say about me that I was thinking of kids?

  I glance up to see his back as he strides away under the arch and to the front door. It slams behind him, and I realize he’s absolutely right. This situation is fucked up. Not because of the house but because of him.

  I clear my bowl and bring my paper to the table. The best remedy right now is to become a creative machine, pouring my soul into my sketches until they have that undeniable “wow” factor. I hold the pencil in my hand and wait for the juices to flow.

  What a joke. An hour goes by and I’m still dry. I feel like I grew up and no longer believe. A fairy could be sitting right here beside me, sprinkling around magic dust, and my imagination would see her as a fly shitting all over my drawings.

  I’ll be home late. Don’t wait up. Going to a Mallards game after work, then out for a few.

  The text flashes on my screen, making me want to snap my pencil in two. After getting on my case about spending money, he’s going out? How dare he! And he better not even think about buying a round.

  I snatch up my phone, ready to give him hell, but instead of unloading my frustration in a five-hundred-word rant, I simply type Okay.

  His rational side may come out when he’s away from home, but that doesn’t mean I want to waste my energy confirming it’s true. It’s easier to bask in the one feeling crowding out all the others.

  Relief.

  He won’t be home tonight. Maybe he’ll even sleep in tomorrow. I could have peace and quiet until Rowan shows up.

  When another text comes in minutes later, I’m hoping it’s not a change in plans.

  I’m patiently waiting for my fact of the day.

  I beam, the room brightening. You can’t be too patient. It’s only nine.

  I count on your text first thing. I didn’t get it today, and now I have the shakes.

  I’ve been sending Jake one elephant fact every morning, after which he always responds with an enthusiastic More! I need more! But I don’t comply. As much as he makes me laugh because he reminds me of an addict desperate for another fix, I limit myself to one text. Only one, and in the early light of day.

  Until now.

  Elephants are afraid of ants and bees, not mice.

  One more? Please? I need enough to get me through the weekend.

  Talking to him is so damn easy.

  What are you doing today? Even as I’m hitting Send I know I’m slipping up. I already tripled my daily text limit, and with something I have no business asking.

  I haven’t heard that one before.

  I set the phone aside, leaving the conversation to die. I got carried away is all. Time to get back to work.

  When I pick up my pencil, the sparks fly. It’s like I’ve been plunged into an idea vat.

  I’m walking Lakeshore Path and taking pictures. What about you?

  I tap the phone to my bottom lip. He only asked an innocent question. What’s the big deal in that?

  I’m at home working on my sketches.

  How’s it going for you?

  Really well. Now that I’m in the flow.

  Great to hear. If you need a break from all that inspiration, you can join me for a hike.

  I read the text. Read it again. The thunder inside my chest contradicts the clear blue skies outside. If I had a direct line to the weather gods, I still couldn’t have ordered up a more perfect summer day.

  Okay.

  This time, I delete before I send. Then I march my phone into the other room and confine it to a drawer, cutting temptation off at the knees.

  I return to the kitchen and pull a soda from the fridge before swapping it with water. I chug it down, then grab the soda anyway, walking in circles with the bottle as my companion until I sit back at the table with it unopened beside me.

  I draw until my hand cramps, letting anything and everything pour through me as rapidly as I can handle. When I check the time, I’m amazed to discover morning has passed. And I’m beyond pleased with the progress I made.

  My cell and I reunite, the separation unremarkable. I missed nothing during our time apart. Nothing from Jake.

  It should’ve been enough to let sleeping dogs lie for another day.

  Is that offer still good?

  “Remember when you wiped out on your bike trying to impress me?” He points to where the path turns rocky. “I believe it was right over there.”

  “Yes, I remember, but it was you, not me.”

  He snaps a shot of the lake. “You sure about that?”

  Of course, I am. I remember everything. I tilt my face into the sun, wondering why I ever second-guessed meeting him. I’m allowed to get out of the house. I’m allowed to take a walk. I’m allowed to do something fun without getting bitched at for it.

  My lips curve freely as I take in my surroundings. People are out in droves, exercising, relaxing, socializing, all taking advantage of the picturesque day. Just like me. Nothing more, nothing less.

  I hear the click and notice the lens aimed at me. I shield my eyes from the sun. “What’s that for?”

  “Inspiration.”

  I lower my hand as he lowers the camera. I don’t have a suitable response. There’s a part of me attempting to dig its way out and convince me that being here right now is wrong. I resent the guilt trip it’s trying to send me on. There is nothing in my marriage vows that states I can’t walk a very public path with someone from my past.

  “Come on,” he says, and I do.

  We follow the shore to Picnic Point without speaking, the crushed rock under our shoes a clear reminder of our objective. Before the hike is done, we’ll have traveled miles. I’m allowed to work my muscles after hours of squashing my butt to a chair.

  The stone wall appears quicker than I remember. It’s been years, yet it could be a snapshot frozen in time.

  “Do you want to keep going?” he asks.

  No. “Sure.”

  We enter through the gate and the path widens. I jam my guilt deeper, not permitting it to tarnish my conscience when “One of the best places to kiss
” flashes into my head. I wasn’t the one who gave it that moniker. Whether or not I agree is irrelevant.

  The open clearing fills me with peace. Familiarity does not breed contempt. It breeds comfort. The fire pits and picnic sites. The breathtaking views of the city I love. The dearest of memories. First kisses. First loves. First everythings.

  Fuck, Maddie. What are you doing?

  We’re gazing out into the lake when he offers me an energy bar. I forgo the one with beets and kale in favor of chocolate and peanut butter and tear it open. I didn’t realize how hungry I was until I take the first bite. Delicious.

  “Thank you,” I mumble before washing it down with my water.

  “You’re welcome.”

  I polish it off quickly and stuff the wrapper in my pocket, saving a reminder of what I just ate. I’ll need to stop on the way home and pick some up. His laughter forces my head up, assuming it’s directed at me.

  “I was just thinking about us sledding down Bascom Hill. Remember that time when….”

  The look on my face must be what gave him pause. We’ve been playing the “remember when” game since I showed up, and I’m not sure that’s a very smart thing to do anymore.

  “Maddie, I… I’m sorry if I crossed a line by asking you to join me today.”

  I keep my eyes fixated on the green-tinged water, all the sailboats and canoes decorating the surface. It looks like a Colorform board, and I have the power to assemble the images however I choose. The question is: What do I choose?

  “You didn’t.” If any lines were crossed, it was done by me. I didn’t need to take him up on it.

  “And I’m sorry you left Madison, for making you feel like you had no other choice but to leave.”

  “Please stop apologizing.” I don’t want to hear what his next one might be. I couldn’t handle it. I’m hanging loosely from a frayed string as it is.

  “I know your heart is here. Why’d you wait so long to come back?”

  I inhale and swallow hard. I know exactly what he’s asking me. Before my mom packed up for the desert, she used to run into Jake’s sister quite often around town. A few years after I moved to Milwaukee, she learned that he and Reyna had moved to Chicago. She made me aware in case I wanted to come back. But by that time it was too late. I’d made a life elsewhere.