Every relationship for me starts out in the enamored phase where what I say is viewed as pithy and insightful. My future love laughs at my dark moments and we enjoy them together in a “you and me” against the world way. But at some point in the relationship, my darkness becomes too dark and they’re no longer “fascinated” by the way my brain works but annoyed by it. And I’m left alone wondering what was the thing I shared that pushed them away that changed their mind about how I view the world. When was that exact moment, that realization that proved too much and pushed the balance?
But what they don’t see is that even though my brain tends to point out the worst in everything (and possibly everyone), these are just observations and they no way keep me from enjoying life. To me, I am simply pointing out that too much sun burns and mosquitos bite. These are not dark realizations. These are just simple facts. M is dead and she chose to be. Bees sting. Hot water burns.
“And Luke. I told Luke.” I added.
“Who’s Luke?”
“Her boyfriend. Was her boyfriend.”
“And?”
“He thinks I’m delusional. Well, that might be a strong word but he thinks the fact that she just bought panties from Victoria Secret shows she couldn’t possibly have been contemplating suicide.”
“What does this tell you? You’re the only one who thinks this. Maybe it was just a terrible accident.”
“One mile. She drove over a mile in a 1963 Shelby. She felt every one of those 3,520 ties.”
The horse turned around and walked to the other side of the pasture behind the barn.
Cash’s bicep tensed and I realized my hand was still gripping it. I let go and he swung his leg and then body up and over the fence in a move so smooth and quick, I didn’t see it coming. His lead meant I had to jog to catch up. I tugged at his arm. I let him avoid the conversation of his mother but I wasn’t going to let another guy tell me I’m delusional.
My phone buzzed followed by my smart watch. Mike wasn’t getting the clue. I didn’t want to hear his news.
“Concert over yet?” he texted.
No, and it never would be. The kids would all just play until they fell into a stupor and died from exhaustion. I couldn’t focus on him right now.
“Cash, please. I’m not saying this to hurt you but I need you to understand the truth of this.”
“Why? Why can’t I just believe she was in her car listening to her favorite song unaware? Suddenly the car stalls, she panics and can’t get the door open. She screams but no one is around to help. Christ! That’s bad enough. Can’t you see that?”
“Because she wasn’t tragically taken. Her last act was to tell us all to fuck off. Well, me specifically because I needed her more than anyone else. And she knew that.”
He shook his head.
“So she killed herself to say fuck you to you? She ended her life just to get back at you? You either did something really messed up or you are really messed up.”
“I didn’t do anything and I’m not saying she killed herself because of me. I’m just saying she had to have known it would fuck me up.”
“Vindictive.”
I couldn’t tell if Cash was being sarcastic or expressing pity.
“I have her diary.”
“Did it say she was going to off herself in that?”
“I haven’t gotten that far.” I admitted.
“How long have you had her diary?”
“A while.” I hardly wanted to admit that the last entry had been particularly damning to me.
“Do you have it now?”
“The point is, there isn’t anything in it. It’s filled with song lyrics and doodles. Stuff like that. Nothing worthwhile.” I regretted bringing it up.
“Get it.”
“No, I…”
“Get it. It’s time we put your craziness to rest.”
“I’m not crazy.”
“Okay, poor choice of words. But wouldn’t you feel better if her diary proved you wrong?”
“It won’t.”
“But it could.”
Call me once in a lifetime
My father used to tell his friends and parents of my friends stories about me. They started off as concerns but sounded more to me like complaints of a weary dad. He always waited until I was out of the room but I was never out of hearing distance from his booming voice in our small cape cod.
He told them that he disabled our doorbell because every time it rang I’d run to the door expecting my mom. If every time was around five times, I guess what he said could pass for the truth. It wasn’t because I wanted to see her. I just had a hard time believing she could stay away forever.
It seemed like obligation would turn her around like what happens in RomComs. They play a montage of both people after the breakup. It’s usually some awesome Van Morrison song and our hero and heroine are walking through parks by themselves soaking in the beauty surrounding them but feeling miserable. Then they see some tree or flower or little kid that reminds them of their beloved. Next they realize they can no longer spend a moment without that person. So they take off in some romantic gesture and pick up the whore in a limousine...well, you get the idea.
Until I was about 13 I was sure that my mom would run into a little girl with pigtails and freckles like mine and she’d feel compelled to go find her little girl. And she’d run up to our door and then hesitate before ringing the bell, unsure of what to do. And I would sense she had come back because the sun would suddenly be piercing the darkest depths of our house and the music would swell into a crescendo. And the birds would sing and the teapot on my little table in my room that I hadn’t been able to fit in since I was nine but didn’t have the heart to tell my dad I no longer wanted it would spring to life and follow me to the door. I would fling it open and she would take me into her arms and say all those things she had meant to but was saving up. And I would have my Annie moment and she would love me. Or she would remember how much she loved me.
And a limo would be waiting because in the time she had left us she had developed a trillion dollar doll company, no scratch that, fashion empire, and wanted me to be her one and only model because she had done it all for me, very Jay Gatsby style.
And she would look at my dad who would come to the door wondering why everyone was singing and the fawns and unicorns were on our lawn. And she’d remember how she had once loved him too.
And they would smile shyly and I would know at that moment that there would never be a Cash or a Mike or any man who I would cling to way past the expiration date of our relationship. Because I would know on that day that I was important to someone.
That she had come back because she couldn’t imagine life without me. I hadn’t been a burden or too intense. I wasn’t a drag. I was a kid. Her kid.
And she loved me.
Heaven can wait, everyday is like sunday
I’m sad all the time. But no one knows.
I’m sad because at least twenty times a day I want to pick up the phone and call her. And then I remember she’s not there. And then I get mad because she chose not to be here. And then while I’m getting mad, I get sad again because I realize that I meant so little to her that she couldn’t even tell me things were that bad for her. She left me, just like my mom. But M’s departure is worse because she knew my mom left first and people should only have to deal with one major female abandonment in their lives. My quota was filled early.
Other days, M is still very much alive in my mind and I keep thinking she’ll call. Then I realize she’s gone and I’m sad as if I’m hearing it again for the first time.
I imagine Luke has this same realization every day even if he has a hard time believing she did it to herself. I wonder if he sleeps in their bed but I don’t have the heart to ask him. If he doesn’t, he’ll have to admit he doesn’t and if he does, then he might start viewing it as something he shouldn’t be doing and I don’t want to cause him any more discomfort than I do on a regular basis.
Luke’s a good guy just a bit of a nervous puppy. You know the kind who hears a loud noise and pees down his leg? Which is strange considering his time in the air force. Luke could fly loud jets and be in charge of a million dollar piece of equipment yet his nervous energy is a bit unsettling, contagious almost. If it was like that on the phone, I could only imagine what it would be like in person.
But M had fallen in love with him “between transfers.” She later told me he was on psychiatric evaluation when they met. M always loved the broken ones. I, on the other hand, loved the ones who didn’t need me. Cash never needed me. He just needed someone, like he was perpetually casting for the lead role in his life.
“When are you and Jax getting married?” I asked, his eyes still focused on where the horse had gone out of view. It was nearly dark now but I knew him well enough to know he had a scowl on his face.
“We’re not talking about me. We’re discussing M and I’m waiting for her diary.”
“I don’t have anything more to say about that.”
“Then hand over the book.” he commanded in a force I wasn’t used to with the easy-going Cash.
“What book?” I laughed trying to sound playful and not giving him the real reason why I didn’t want to hand it over.
He turned the corner of the barn and even though I was a moment behind him, running into him on the other side frightened me.
“Don’t do that!” I yelled and slapped him on the back.
I was concerned he would keep walking around the barn and head right back to the car to retrieve it. As was customary I hadn’t bothered to lock the car. Instead, he sat down on a hay bail, his hands cupped between his knees. I wanted to swap out his ball cap for a ten-gallon hat because at that moment he looked every bit of the Marlboro Man minus the caterpillar mustache.
“I’m just havin’ a hard time with this. You’ve had months to get used to this idea.”
“Ten weeks, actually.” I said more to myself than to him.
I watched the heat lightning off in the distance. M will never see that again.
“If you’re so sure she did it, why? Why the hell would she? Guy trouble?” he asked.
“I don’t know.”
“Ah. So you know with 100% certainty that it wasn’t a tragic accident but you have no idea why your best friend would want to watch as a locomotive plowed into her car.”
“Her boyfriend’s car. That he just restored.”
“So she not only offed herself but took something he loved with her.”
“And their dog.”
“For chrissake! I can’t see M killin’ herself and the dog. What the! You really believe M did that? You knew her better than me but come on.” He removed his hat again and rubbed his matted-down hair.
“What do we know about the boyfriend? Maybe he did it.”
“Nope. He loves her more than he loves himself.”
“Maybe she cheated on him and he offed her. Then made it look like an accident.”
“Would you kill someone in a car you loved with your dog?”
“If I didn’t like the dog.”
I rolled my eyes.
“You would not. No one would.” I corrected.
“Someone might.”
“No. Cash. She did this herself.”
He exhaled, slow and painful, doubled over and cradled his head in his hands. He took a breath in quickly as if there was something explosive he just thought of. And I waited. No words passed between us for some time. We watched the stars grow brighter. I couldn’t stand his sadness. I wanted him to feel betrayed like I did.
“You haven’t talked to M in like two decades. Why are you so broken up about this?” I asked.
“Are you serious?”
I stroked his hand but didn't answer. His fingers were broad and soft like a catcher’s mitt.
“She was my first girl friend at school.”
I dropped his hand accidentally but knew it must’ve been awkward. I felt sick to think M and I had shared him.
“I mean female friend...who I never slept with.”
“Thanks for the clarification. I forgot. You sleep with all of your friends.”
“And some who aren’t.” he added.
We laughed together in unison like we used to. It was easy. I hoped he had forgotten about the diary.
Years after Cash and I broke up I told M I didn’t understand why I never had any hard feelings towards Cash. There were guys I dated a lot shorter of a time that wrecked me. As the wind picked up and Cash and I sat together on that bale of hay, I remembered her telling me, “You never loved him.”
But I don’t think that was true. I did love him but I loved him knowing exactly who he was. Monogamy wasn’t something he could do. It wasn’t personal. There’s something to be said about that kind of honest love.
“I would’ve married you, ya know.” Cash said drawing my fingertips to his mouth and kissing them. “But M told me she’d castrate me if I ever asked you.”
His lips tickled my fingers as he talked.
“Seriously?”
“Yep. I believe she would have too and you know...she was right. There shouldn’t have been other women with you.”
“Have you ever cheated on Jax?”
“I plan to tonight.” He laughed and faced me. I could just make out the white of his teeth, which looked more blue in the shadow cast from the farm light on the other side of the barn.
“Seriously. Have you?” I thought I knew the answer but if I didn’t, I wasn’t sure I wanted to hear it.
“I did. Before the twins. She knows. But I haven’t since then. I’m trying to be a good dad.”
“So, why don’t you marry her?”
“I don’t know that there’s a reason. Just one, I mean. It’s just not something that’s come up.” He looked out again at the horizon.
“Come on.” I insisted.
“There’s nothin’ I can say here that isn’t gonna make me sound like an asshole.”
“Pretty sure you’re an asshole for just being here with me right now.”
“You’re right. We should go.” He stood up and reached out for me. I didn’t take his hand.
“Answer the question, Catch.” I used his old college nickname.
“Why does it matter? Trying to get me off the market?”
“Ha, that would never happen even if you did get married.”
He sat down next to me again.
“You act like I’m just some skirt chaser.”
“If the skirt fits.” I flicked a dandelion at him.
“I was 21 when we were together. I’m not like that now.”
“You just said you planned on cheating tonight.”
“That was a joke. Besides, you’re smarter than that now. My charms only worked on you then because you hadn’t dated enough.”
“So, what’s the hold up in walking down the aisle?”
He shrugged in that sheepish, boy-like way that got him out of so many arguments in college. And I knew he wasn’t going to answer no matter how I pushed. How could he? Anything he said would make him sound like an ass, exactly his point.
The wind picked up. The suffocating summer humidity dispersed in a way that seemed ominous, sudden like something terrible had chased it away. It didn’t feel pleasant like one would’ve thought going from sweat on the brow just sitting there to a chill on the skin. Cold and alone.
Sylvia Plath wrote about depression being the descent of the bell jar around her, suffocating. I thought about my trip so far. I thought of poor dead M and Luke. I thought of Palmer and his wife, Cricket and Jim, Belle and Tom, Cash and Jax. Mike and Cyn. Even Walsey was still technically married.
Suddenly the entire world had paired up when I was out in my backyard sculpting. There were no single men. Someone had staked their claim to every one of them. My chest and throat clenched. My head spun. Tears welled up in my eyes.
I’m an independent...you can say it….woman. Why am I having a pani
c attack over a man? This is not a square dance. I don’t need a partner.
My vision cut in so I could only see the part of the dark field immediately in front of me. I looked for the horse wondering where it had gone. I would be fine if I could only find that horse. The horse and I would be fine.
“Sara.”
Cash kneeled in front of me blocking my view of the darkened field. I moved my head to the right to see beyond him. He steadied it with a hand on each side of my cheek.
“Your face is so cold, baby doll.”
I wondered if he called her that too.
“What’s going on? You look spooked. I’m the one who’s supposed to be having a moment.”
My nose burned. His face is smeared. Through tears I could see his confusion. I couldn’t stop the tears from tracing warm paths down my cheeks but I could keep my mouth shut and make sure I didn’t sob aloud. I pressed my molars into one another and willed the lump in the back of my throat to go back from where it came.
His thumbs wiped my tears away like intermittent windshield wipers. In another mood it might have made me laugh but I could see his concern and it didn’t seem at all funny.
My nose ran and I knew all hopes of wanting him to wish he had married me instead of building a life with Jax were out the window. But did I really want that? I just wanted to be wanted. My daughter was getting old enough that she had more interest in her latest boyfriend and outfits than me. My son only recognized my presence if my “presence” blocked the TV screen.
My ex was about to marry a child. Everyone else had paired off when I was busy mourning my best friend who decided she’d rather have thousands of pounds of steel flatten her than live another day on this earth surrounded by people who loved her. It was all so complicated and unavoidable, and suddenly, I wanted to go where she had so boldly gone. But I didn’t want to cause an accident that no doubt has stolen every night of quality rest from a complete stranger just because he drove the train that day.
West of You Page 14
