She breaks. Her eyes flash. A rush of air escapes her mouth, like she’s been holding her breath for toolong.
“Put on a movie for Claire and come to my room.” She pivots without warning. Her long hair snaps me on the chin. I watch her hurry away. No more wood. More likelightning.
I do as I’m told, and Claire is only too happy. Aubrey monitors her screen-time, so there’s no way Claire will question an unexpectedmovie.
Before I leave Claire, I lock the front door, double check the lock on the back door, and give her a cup ofwater.
“I’ll be right back. I’m just going to talk toMommy.”
She doesn’t respond. The movie has already taken Claire to the land of make-believe.
Firmly rooted in reality, I walk to Aubrey’s room. Staying calm under pressure is a necessity for my career, but right now I’m struggling. Suddenly I think about the Titanic and the unshakeable Molly Brown. That would be Aubrey. Unshakeable. Until today,anyway.
I tap on her door with twoknuckles.
“Comein.”
I push open the door and find Aubrey standing in front of her dresser. She’s wearing the same red bra and black leggings I peeled off her last night. What’s missing is the oversized sweatshirt she’d had on a few minutesago.
She strides right up to me, reaching behind me to shut the door. Her breasts graze my chest, and in the back of my mind I register the sound of the lockturning.
“Don’t you want to talk about what upset you?” It takes a lot of willpower to ask this question. Aubrey’s rarely this brave. I like it. But then it reminds me that her bravery is clearly tied to whatever has upset her, and that changesit.
“Not right now I don’t.” Her lips are on my neck, tongue fluttering over the hollow at the base of my throat, and I’m having a hard timeconcentrating.
“You’ll feel better if you talk.” My voice is garbled. It won’t take long before I give up. I can only take somuch.
She steps back, it’s only a foot, but instantly I miss herheat.
Her eyes flash like they did just a few minutes ago in thekitchen.
“Talking won’t make mefeelbetter. What I need now is tonottalk. I need you to push me up against the wall and make me forget my name.” She steps back toward me, her hands slipping under my shirt. She traces a design across my chest with her flattened palms. “Make me forget what’s inside my chest rightnow.”
She leans back so she can stare at me, pleading eyes on mine. I can feel the edge I’m teetering on. Shouldn’t I be a gentleman? Refuse her? But this is Aubrey. Aubrey knows what she wants. Aubrey doesn’t speak words she doesn’tmean.
“If you’re expecting me to be gallant and refuse you, this is your very last chance to tell me.” My willpower is worn down to anub.
She shakes her head. “No white knights allowed in here rightnow.”
I do as she asks. With my hand over her mouth, I push her until the wall stops us, and I give her some time to live outside of whatever is inside herchest.
It worked.But then time was up, and it was over, and I’m right where I was before I asked him to take me out of mymind.
I’ve got to leave this bathroom, go out to the living room, and tell Isaac what happened. And that’s when it hitsme.
She washere.
I’d been too busy feeling the splintering of my chest. I didn’t stop to think about herhere.
My fingers trace my reflection in the mirror above the counter. Did she look in this same mirror? Did she stare at herself, wonder how she could have left? Did she almost change her mind, run back to us, envision how she would pull me into her arms and smell my hair? Or did she stand tall and congratulate herself on a job welldone?
I walk out, and with every step, I wonder if I’m placing my foot in a spot her weight pressed upon. The cabin is new to me now. I’m looking through hereyes.
A lot of this has probably been updated at least once in the past eighteen years. But not that fireplace. And not the stream. Maybe that’s where she did her reflecting. She’s a mother who left her child behind. She had to have reflected on that. She’s not amonster.
I can see her in the bakery. Carefree smile. Not an ounce of regret in those eyes. She should have sadeyes.
Just the thought of Claire starting kindergarten in August sends me into full blown ugly cry. How could she not be upset by the idea of never seeing meagain?
