It would be easy to tell myself that he stopped loving me because the scale tipped too far to his side. That I got older and less attractive. That I stopped working, stopped being interesting. Up, up, up, my side of the scale drifted, losing the weight of these things.
But that would be a lie. There is no scale that can bear what I have done.
I feel my lips part, taking in air as the tears fall. I taste the salt on my tongue.
I hear the argument for the first time in years. The argument I lost then and will always lose.
No—I was not speeding around that corner. I had slowed down, of course I had, because the driveway was just around the curve.
No—there was nothing more I could have done. My eyes were on the road. My hands on the wheel. I wasn’t adjusting the radio, or using my phone, or reaching for my coffee.
No—I could not have slammed on those brakes any harder than I did! The forensic report confirmed all of this. The skid marks. The air bag. The turn of the wheel away from the object in the road. From the child. My child. My Annie.
Six more inches and I would have been clear. I would have slammed into the mailbox and the boxwoods and the flower bed. But the wheel turned only so far.
Six more inches.
People say things. Things beyondput one foot in front of the other.They pose questions and force you to answer.Would it be your fault if you gave up your seat on a plane and the plane went down? If you ducked from a gunshot and it hit someone else?
There is no logic to the guilt.
But you gave her life.
Yes, but then I killed her.
I killed her.
I killed her.
It never goes away. God, help me. It never leaves.
I’m sorry, John, for falling off the scale. For being unworthy of you.
I’m sorry Evan, for infusing you with anger. It seeps from my pores. I should have known it would reach you.
And Nicole—my fierce warrior. You had everything! You were beautiful and strong and brilliant. You were that glorious firstborn child who saw the world as a thing to behold, and a thing to be conquered. And now you live behind a sword and shield but the enemy still comes for you. To vanquish you. To kill you as well.
My chest rises and falls quickly now as I gasp for air. I cannot hide it any longer. The tears are now sobs as I lie here in my prison, unable to see a way out. I am forced to surrender. And it comes. It all comes, storming the unarmed gates.
Nicole.
I see your face as you stand in the driveway. I see your face staring at your sister as she lies in the road. I see your face when you realize what has happened.
I prayed that the warrior in you would conquer. I did not have the strength to carry you through the storm of our grief. And our guilt.
I will not sleep tonight. And without sleep, I will not have the strength to fight him. I will not have the mental agility to make a new plan.
The tears have stopped though I cannot stop the panic.
There is no evidence of an imminent fight. No need for an immediate plan.
And yet it is here. This panic.
I sit up then. Not caring about the camera, about Dolly. Not caring if I wake Alice. I sit up because I have to shift the blood that has pooled in my head and caused this chaos.
I let it all settle, recalibrate. I can’t make any sense of it. But it does not leave.
I allow my gut to weigh in, the feelings I have had these past fifteen days.
