The Rest Will Come

by Christina Bergling

  She thought of how easy it was to talk to Tim, how nice it felt to be held by him. And she thought of his fish tongue flopping between her teeth. Look, Emma, I would rather you be honest with me. I want to be with someone who truly wants to be with me.

  She saw Jamal’s flawless face as he guided her into his bedroom, where the magic happened, and patted the vacant bed beside him. Why don’t you come over here and check out this mattress?

  She thought of Drew inviting her into his future and to meet his family while she lay contentedly on his chest. Look, Emma, I really like you. I mean you are really awesome, but I just don’t think I’m ready for all this. I thought I was. I really did. I especially thought I was with you. But I don’t think I can be in a real relationship right now.

  Logan’s perfect voice, I just don’t think we’ve been together long enough to try long distance. I really like you, but I don’t see it working. I wish you all the best, Emma.

  She thought of Rick, short and lean, who had hiked off into obscurity.

  She thought of the monotonous torture of Bob’s droning about his mind numbing job.

  She thought about Reese behaving abhorrently to the waitress. Honey, this meat is not bleeding.

  And all the other men who disappeared into the faceless, repetitive blur. The ones she had forgotten. The ones she had never even met. In the end, here where she was alone, they all revealed themselves as the same.

  She wanted to pick up something heavy and bash it against each of their skulls. She wanted to smash and hit until bone gave way and brain matter leaked out. She wanted the blood to pour down until they became unidentifiable, until they felt the way the ragged edge of her soul felt where the sinking hole in her stomach began.

  With the memories echoing in her skull, her head swayed side to side. The thoughts pulsed so strongly she shook her head. Her mind could not wrap around her reality.

  It cannot be this hard. It cannot go like this for everyone. No one would get married! People would only get pregnant by accident! Why is it so hard for me? What did I do to deserve all of this? I think I deserve to be happy. I think I deserve someone and a family. Why am I the only one who believes this? It’s not fair for it to be this hard.

  Her inner monologue raged, yet her tongue swelled with inactivity. She worked silently, tapping values onto the keyboard, reformatting the spreadsheet, avoiding conversation at every opportunity. The longer her molars rested on top of each other, the more it felt like they had fused together.

  Maybe it would be better if I never talked to anyone again.

  The depression and disappointment permeated every cell, making her heavier by minute ounces. Even her blood flow slowed, uninspired to keep her living. That seductive, strong current in her brain drew her toward sleep; the siren song beckoning her to escape her waking life into the shapeless darkness of twisted dreams.

  Unfortunately, she could not sleep at work, and so relentless was Ronnie that she would not be permitted to retreat home either. She could never craft an excuse that would convince her, neither the truth nor any lie she might concoct.

  Emma closed out her shift and moved mechanically to her car. The trees and street signs slipped over her windshield. Her eyes processed the moving shapes in front of her and responded accordingly; she did not see a thing. Her brain segregated her functions with autopilot and allowed her to fixate on that deep and welling chasm inside her.

  When she walked into her house, she abandoned everything at the front door and dove face-first into the welcoming cushions of her couch. Her consciousness might have abandoned her body before her full weight depressed the fabric. Instantly, the darkness swallowed her, where her mind felt heavier yet her soul felt lighter.

  ***

  Emma woke up to Ronnie’s voice as she set her purse and keys on the coffee table, dropping them deliberately. The sound shattered Emma’s retreating sleep.

  “Did you come home and pass out on the couch?”

  The light had dissipated in the house, trailing in gray tones out the windows. She must have been asleep for a chunk of time, though she had both only closed her eyes for an instant and been swimming within her grim mental mirror for years. She struggled to disentangle from the thick and sticky strands of the sleep still cleaving to her perceptions like tar. From Ronnie’s expression, it must have outwardly appeared as quite a struggle.

  “Oh, honey, was it that bad?” Ronnie asked.

  Emma planted her face down in the cushions. “Yes.”

  “What happened with this one?”

  “He was a dick to the waitress.”

  “Really?”

  “Yeah. Like a complete dick. From the start. The first time he talked to her. Dick.”

  “Oh shit.”

  “Yeah.”

  “Great way to earn points with someone who spent decades in customer service.”

  “Exactly. He was fine before that. Nothing special, no epic spark or anything. He was even kind of cute and endearing about drinking too much water when he was nervous.”

  “What did you do? Did you awkwardly stick it out in true Emma fashion?”

  “No! I left.”

  “You what?”

  “I got up, went to the bathroom, and left.”

  “You ditched out on him?”

  “Yep.”

  “Seriously? I don’t believe it.”

  “It happened.”

  “Look at that. Starting to look out for yourself.”

  “Yeah, well clearly no one else is going to.”

  “That’s what I’m saying! I’m so proud of you!”

  “You’re proud of me for getting up and walking out on a date without saying a word?”

  “I’m sure you said you were going to the bathroom.”

  “You might be a horrible person.”

  “I’m definitely a horrible person, and I would have preferred if you’d gone off on him in public, particularly in front of the offended waitress. But baby steps.”

  Emma laughed out loud, a fraction lighter. At least she was growing as a person by Ronnie’s standards, not that it was paying off with anyone else.

  “So what’s next? Another date? Another break?”

  “Those are my only two options, aren’t they? I’m not sure.”

  “What does your head say?”

  Emma gestured wildly. “To hell with it! Give up!”

  “What does your heart say?”

  “Keep trying. You have to find him.”

  “Polar opposites, as always. What do the guts say? Always go with the guts.”

  “I don’t know what the guts say. Some blend of the two.”

  “That’s not helpful at all.”

  “Tell me about it. I have another couple dates lined up from eCompatible, neither that I am excited about. I don’t know if I should go ahead and try them anyway or say to hell with it.”

  “Yeah, hard to say. And I can’t tell you what to do.”

  “Can’t you? I’m sick of making these decisions that blow up in my face. Wait, haven’t you been making my decisions since my divorce?”

  “Guiding. Guiding your decisions,” Ronnie giggled. “Very different.”

  “Fine. How would you guide this decision?”

  “Honestly, as me, I would say to hell with it. I would do what I constantly tell you to do: live my life, make myself happy, and hope things ultimately fall into place.” Emma rolled her eyes. “However,” Ronnie lifted her finger, “as you, knowing you as I do, you will need to go for it. You have to know if one of these guys is the one.”

  “Damn. You know me too well.”

  “It’s a curse, I know.”

  “What if I compromise between my heart and my head?”

  “How so?”

  “What if I went on the dates I already have lined up, then assuming they suck as much as all the others, I let it go for a while? No new contacts, no endless messages and questions.”

  “Damn eCompatible.”

  “It
’s like a full time job! I work all day long then come home and spend half as many hours combing through matches and asking questions and answering questions and trying to keep guys straight when I message back and forth. The whole time, I just want to quit. I want to give up. By the time I get to the date, there’s been so much virtual foreplay I’ve lost interest in the guy, if I can even remember which one he is.”

  “I think it’s a fair compromise. A little bit of both, just like your guts. And you get to quit that eCompatible bullshit.”

  “Why can’t I have a bang buddy turn into my baby daddy?”

  “Oh honey, that is an unintended art. Only the most elite of hoochies can pull off such an accidental transition.”

  “Clearly, I am not that skilled.”

  “Clearly. You will just have to do it the old-fashioned way.”

  “The old-fashioned online dating way.”

  “You know, whatever.”

  “Two more guys. Two more scheduled dates. I can do this.”

  “You can do this. After so many, what’s two more?”

  “Right. What’s two more?”

  ***

  The next morning Emma was in her car heading west. Although she was not quite sure where she was headed, she was wearing her running shoes and the mountains were beckoning to her. Trail running would be something new, an additional challenge to distract her and snap her mind firmly back within her flesh.

  She picked a park close enough to civilization. She wanted to run, not hike, so she needed to stay in the lower elevations. A challenge was one thing; brutal hills were quite another.

  The gravel crunched under her shoes when she stepped out of her vehicle. It felt good to step away from the machine, to retreat from the road and disappear into a slice of wilderness. The park was unfamiliar to her; the trail would forge new paths in her mind and muscle memory. She simply started jogging and followed the line of dirt that carved through the plants.

  Trail running did present a new series of challenges. Her mind was continuously engaged. She could not coast as she did street running; she could not rely on the terrain to be even and expected. She was forced to run with her eyes downcast, perpetually gauging and judging the grade and angle of the trail and protruding rocks. The muscles in her calves flexed in new patterns to steady her stride over the varied surface.

  All that focus afforded her no time to think, to overanalyze, to lament. Her experience reduced and simplified to not falling over or rolling her ankle. She even forgot to synchronize her breathing with her strides. She only concentrated on making steps against the pull of the grade and proper footfalls among the rocks.

  The day was perfect, the weather beautiful. A thin, warm breeze caressed the sweat on her skin. The sun matched the heat she brewed in her exertion. She forsook her usually blaring music to hear the wind against the leaves and the scrape of her shoes on the trail, finding tranquility in her own panting breaths.

  Another sound wafted on the breeze to her. It started faintly, low enough for Emma to think she imagined it amidst the shuffle of her own movements. It persisted and built on itself as she crested a small hill. Mixed in the tones was the gentle trickle of a stream. She dropped out of her run to silence her footsteps and strained her hearing, quietly moving toward the stream.

  The sound rang out again, and Emma’s guts flinched. She could not identify the noise; it was completely alien to her, but her body knew to be alarmed. She thought it was an animal, the way the yelp was not contorted or contained into anything that resembled a word. It was forced, strangled. And desperate. It was the desperation that reverberated in her and set her nerves on edge.

  Your dad is my daddy now. He doesn’t want your stupid mom anymore.

  Emma heard Jeremy Davies’s child voice again climb out of the back of her brain. Her heart stopped beating.

  She’s just a fat dumb slut, and nobody will ever want her again.

  She’s going to die alone. Just like you!

  Why did she keep hearing him? Why did his stupid, immature insults keep surfacing in her mind at random times? He had not graced her thoughts in decades; why did he play at the edges of her brain now?

  Another outburst echoed from the rocks and snapped her back to the trail. She wandered off the path in pursuit of the sound, her muscles tense and senses on edge. Each yowl sent a wave of fear blended with curiosity trembling down her skin. She reached the bank of the creek, which had methodically carved its way down between two rock cliffs. The sun peered down into the crevasse, blue sky and spotted clouds peeking through.

  Emma caught sight of the antlers first. They moved against the rocks as the wounded deer released another bellowing shriek. The way the deep baaaaaaa echoed off the miniature canyon walls made Emma think this was what it must sound like when lambs were slaughtered. The creature must have plummeted from the crest of the cliff. For a deer to not be able to run from an injury, it must have been severe.

  Having identified the sound, Emma’s anxiety faded. Each time the buck yelled, it became expected. She moved closer until she stood beside the large beast. The deer took notice of her and stared at her calmly with wide eyes. Emma caught her own reflection in the large, dark orbs as she stood intrigued by the injured creature.

  She was sure that the buck had broken his back. While he was able to move his head to survey Emma, his legs fell limp from his large trunk, and the hind two contorted at an extreme angle. The buck kept his dark gaze fixed on Emma, blowing heavy breaths out of his nostrils. Then he released one more muted and sad whine.

  Emma did not think. She climbed slowly up on the large boulder that had cracked the deer’s spine, his large eyes following her. She stood above him and tightly gripped an antler in each hand. She stared back into his gaze and took a deep breath. Then she launched from the boulder. Her fall twisted the deer’s neck. It snapped when she landed back on the dirt beside him.

  The life receded from the buck’s large black eyes.

  She stood beside the body of the creature for an instant, running her fingers along the stiff hair on its now contorted neck. She hesitated in puzzlement of herself then hopped back over the creek and jogged steadily back to her car. She did not know what to think; she was surprised to find she was not thinking at all.

  In the heat of the sunshine pounding down on her, in the rhythm of the scrape of her strides against the path, her mind tumbled backward, effortlessly sidestepping out of her present.

  She smelled the stale, dusty air of the basement in her parents’ house in Colorado Springs. The aroma filled her sinuses so potently she felt like she could taste the particles swirling around above her. If she looked toward the window, Emma could see the small pieces of dirt dancing against the sunshine. The concrete and unfinished walls made the sounds of their footsteps and voices echo strangely back at them. Emma always thought it felt like being in a dungeon.

  “You might as well just kiss me now, Emma, because we’re going to be family.” Jeremy Davies’ voice was high and relentless, piercing at her brain and making her neck bristle. She resented her dad for letting him come over to play so often.

  Jeremy stood shorter and rounder than Emma, his pale skin flushed in splotches to match his ginger hair. He rocked back and forth on his heels as he talked, swinging his arms, with a sucker stick hanging out of his mouth. The sticky and sugary film drizzled out onto his cheek.

  “No we are not, Jeremy! I already have a mom and a dad.”

  “Yes we are. My momma told me so. She told me your dad is my daddy now. He doesn’t want your stupid mom anymore.”

  “That’s a lie, Jeremy!” Emma shouted, pushing him back off his heels. “My daddy would never want your ugly mom!”

  “No, he doesn’t want your ugly mom! She’s just a fat dumb slut, and nobody will ever want her again.”

  Emma did not want to, but she had started to cry. Hot, angry tears streamed down her cheeks. Her little fists balled up and quivered at her sides.

  “You big b
aby,” Jeremy mocked, picking himself up off the floor. “She’s going to die alone. Just like you!”

  Jeremy’s voice died when she silenced him with the pipe. The sound of the impact replaced it, bouncing against the basement walls.

  ***

  Two nights later, Emma wiggled her toes in her heels in the bar parking lot. The familiar thoughts moved over her mind.

  What the hell was he thinking? What am I doing?

  She scrolled through her phone.

  Mark: Hey beautiful, I’m really looking forward to finally meeting you tonight!

  Reluctantly, Emma opened her car door and toddled across the cratered parking lot, wobbling on the height of her heels.

  Chapter 16

  The lights of oncoming traffic pierced through the night and into Emma’s eyes. She did not see them. She did not see the lines on the road steadily pulsing beside her car. She did not see the gentle curve of the road as it wound downward. She simply navigated, detached. The shifting and bumping in her trunk had gone quiet long enough for doubt to infect her mind.

  She had not killed that guy. She could not have. It was merely a very vivid fantasy. He had left her in the parking lot after he said his heart was not in this.

  You know, my heart is just not in this.

  The anger flared up over her disbelief.

  Yeah, I killed him.

  Emma steered the car toward home. Something twinged in her guts, telling her that she should not go there, that she should run, that she should drive and keep driving until Mark had decayed down to a pile of bones in her trunk. She allowed her mind to veto her instincts. She could not up and run without preparing. She would not get far enough for Mark to even begin to stink.

  The key is not to panic. That is how you get caught. If you panic, you get caught. He had it coming. Now you just need to calm down and get away with it. Think. Think fast but think.

  She took a deep inhale through her nose until the crispness of the air made her nostrils tingle. The metallic odor of the blood covering her sent ripples over her senses. She let the breath, warmed by her heat, spiral out of her lips. Her chest deflated, her shoulders slumping as she released an iota of her tension along with the breath.