41.
I wrote seventeen pages and when I stood up in the small attic my back groaned and pulled and then relief swept over me. I had run out of the wine I brought upstairs an hour or two before and I figured seventeen pages and two empty bottles and a burning need to piss was enough of a reason to head downstairs. Our unburied corpse of summer. We passed through it's bones as flies, aimless and seemingly hours from death. I climbed down the ladder, went to the bathroom and noticed the house was quiet. I went into the living room, to head to the kitchen, and there were bags packed and by the door and I wondered if Bev was going to say goodbye or just leave. I didn't know which would be more comfortable or appropriate.
I poured a large glass of water over the kitchen sink, drank it, another, and then a large glass of whiskey. I took my whiskey to the front porch and sat and watched the evening. I hoped to be asleep before anyone got home, and if anything will get you there, it's a few calm glasses of whiskey and a nice evening breeze.
I sat on the porch swing and the sky was darkening pinks and purples and the chill in the air was undeniable now and I only had a week or two left on the house. It'd be over soon. I'd be in the city. Marie would be happy and we would be happy and everything would be fine. I tried to figure out why I was prolonging it. Why I was staying. Why I didn't just pack up and leave. I had squandered enough money over the summer that tossing two weeks of rent out the window seemed as if nothing.
The whiskey was warm and burned a little and when it was in my throat it coated and soothed and when it hit my stomach my body warmed a little and I closed my eyes.
Don't I have my dream?
Isn't this what I wanted?
42.
I woke up still on the swing. The air was cold and the world was black. It was late and there were no lights on in the house. I got up slow. My head ached and my stomach rolled. The porch swing shifted as I stood and I grabbed the chain to steady myself. I went into the black house and found my way to the bedroom. I fell onto it and wrapped the blankets around me and I was alone there. I tried to remember where Marie had gone. Or if the bags were still by the door. I couldn't and fell back asleep, warmer now, in seconds.
Another day passed and then another night and I was alone in the house. The suitcases had disappeared on the second day while I went downtown for food. I had left a note on the door that read;
Marie,
Are you okay? Where did you go? What happened?
It was there when I got back but I left it there. I don't know why. I called phones and no one answered. I paced. I asked the neighbors. It was the evening of the second day. I was planning on calling the police, but the idea of the bags had me hesitant. I was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Well drunk and well lonely and the front door opened. The sound of it was a rush of adrenaline through my body, was the trumpet of angels, was all I had ever really wanted and all I had ever really dreamed of and I leapt off of the bed and ran to Marie.
Bev stood at the front door.
I stopped. "Bev?"
"Hey beautiful," she said. "What's up with that note on the door?"
"What... I thought you left."
"Oh, no, I just met this guy. Been at his camp. Why? Did you miss me?"
"But... your bags, have you seen Marie?"
She kicked her shoes off and walked into the kitchen. "I need a fucking drink. Marie?"
"Yeah, I thought maybe the two of you went somewhere maybe? I'm don't know if..."
"Did you say bags?"
"Yeah, your bags were by the door I thought you were leaving."
"Not my bags. Is there any whiskey left?" She began to rifle through the cabinets.
"Where's Marie?" I asked.
"I don't know what you mean hon," Bev said. "I'm sure she'll be back. Wait," she said. "Hold on." She turned and went to the living room and when she came back she had her phone and she was flipping through it. She paused and inhaled and looked at me and her eyebrows hung and she said; "I'm sorry."
"What? What happened?"
She handed me the phone. A long text was written. It was from Marie.
I wanted to say goodbye to you but I didn't see you. I don't know. I'm sorry everything has been weird. I'm sorry you're hurt. I love you, Bev, but I can't do this. I can't look at you, and I can't look at James and I'm not blaming you, or him. I mean, I just thought I could handle it. This life isn't for me. Money. Excess. Idk. I thought it was. But I just want old James back. I want the old days and I look at him and I know they just aren't coming back. Old James just isn't coming back. Idk. I have to go. I'm sorry, Bev. I hope you do well. Call me sometime maybe. Or I'll call you I guess. <3
I read through it three times and set the phone on the table. My lips parted and my chest was collapsing and I couldn't breathe and my eyes welled. My girl. My love.
Bev took my hand. "She didn't say anything?"
I couldn't answer. I took a moment and a few breaths.
"Call her," Bev said.
"I tried."
After a few moments; "Okay. Just, give her a little space then. She'll come around. She just needs time. You've been with her for a decade, she's not just going to disappear on you."
43.
Another day passed and then another night and I was alone in the house. The suitcases had disappeared on the second day while I went downtown for food. I had left a note on the door that read;
Marie,
Are you okay? Where did you go? What happened?
It was there when I got back but I left it there. I don't know why. I called phones and no one answered. I paced. I asked the neighbors. It was the evening of the second day. I was planning on calling the police, but the idea of the bags had me hesitant. I was laying on the bed, staring at the ceiling. Well drunk and well lonely and the front door opened. The sound of it was a rush of adrenaline through my body, was the trumpet of angels, was all I had ever really wanted and all I had ever really dreamed of and I leapt off of the bed and ran to Marie.
Bev stood at the front door.
I stopped. "Bev?"
"Hey beautiful," she said. "What's up with that note on the door?"
"What... I thought you left."
"Oh, no, I just met this guy. Been at his camp. Why? Did you miss me?"
"But... your bags, have you seen Marie?"
She kicked her shoes off and walked into the kitchen. "I need a fucking drink. Marie?"
"Yeah, I thought maybe the two of you went somewhere maybe? I'm don't know if..."
"Did you say bags?"
"Yeah, your bags were by the door I thought you were leaving."
"Not my bags. Is there any whiskey left?" She began to rifle through the cabinets.
"Where's Marie?" I asked.
"I don't know what you mean hon," Bev said. "I'm sure she'll be back. Wait," she said. "Hold on." She turned and went to the living room and when she came back she had her phone and she was flipping through it. She paused and inhaled and looked at me and her eyebrows hung and she said; "I'm sorry."
"What? What happened?"
She handed me the phone. A long text was written. It was from Marie.
I wanted to say goodbye to you but I didn't see you. I don't know. I'm sorry everything has been weird. I'm sorry you're hurt. I love you, Bev, but I can't do this. I can't look at you, and I can't look at James and I'm not blaming you, or him. I mean, I just thought I could handle it. This life isn't for me. Money. Excess. Idk. I thought it was. But I just want old James back. I want the old days and I look at him and I know they just aren't coming back. Old James just isn't coming back. Idk. I have to go. I'm sorry, Bev. I hope you do well. Call me sometime maybe. Or I'll call you I guess. <3
I read through it three times and set the phone on the table. My lips parted and my chest was collapsing and I couldn't breathe and my eyes welled. My girl. My love.
Bev took my hand. "She didn't say anything?"
I couldn't answer. I took a moment and a few breaths.
"Call her," Bev said.
"I tried."
After a few moments; "Okay. Just, give her a little space then. She'll come around. She just needs time. You've been with her for a decade, she's not just going to disappear on you."
