“What should I do with her while we’re on the run if she’s still here?”
“She’s your responsibility. What do you think you should do?” I turn on him.
“Stay behind and watch her,” he mumbles.
“Then you know what to do with her.” To everyone else, I say, “You have your orders. Get to them.”
I slam the gavel down and push up out of my seat. I step out of the back room to the news channel playing on the TV, and the prospect is glued to the screen.
“What are they talking about today?” I ask, leaning on the bar.
“They’ve released the details of the threats to the Mayor. Though they haven’t mentioned the threats to his daughter.”
Call it paranoia or whatever you want, but why would they mention threats but not mention them all?
“Victoria went out to her greenhouse while you were in the backroom.”
“Thanks.”
I head out back and true to the prospect’s word, my wife is in her area of peace. I lean against the doorframe and watch as she waters her plants. There’s no music playing and no sway of her hips to the beat.
It’s not until she turns around that I see the tear tracks staining her cheeks. She meets my eye for a second or two then continues to water her plants.
“I need to cry today. I can’t stop them, nor do I want to,” she tells me.
If I could go to the afterlife and bring them back, I would. Fuck, I wish it were possible just to save her pain. In all the world and in all the things I can do for her, I can’t do anything to take her grief from her.
“What can I do?”
It’s a question I’ve not only been asking her since their deaths, but myself and never coming up with an answer.
“Just stay with me for a while.”
I step into her greenhouse and pull up the small stool she keeps around. My wife moves around her space with fluidity and grace. The tears fall and she carries on silently. She creates life within nature yet it’s life that hurts her the most. It’s cruel. For over an hour I sit on the stool as she cries and waters. Cries and prunes. Cries and buries her hands in dirt, planting new seeds, creating new life. And cries.
She cleans her hands in a jug of water and dries them with an old rag, then makes her way over to me. She slips down onto her knees and rests her head in my lap. I wind my fingers into her hair and rub her back as she begins to sob. Anger courses through me that I still can’t take this pain from her.
I pull her up onto my lap until she’s straddling me, her arms circling my neck.
“I love you so much, I couldn’t bear it if something happened to you. I can’t…”
I cut her off. “I’m not going anywhere. You know this, unless you and our son come with me. Of all the times I’ve told you this, I would’ve thought you’d believe me by now.”
“I do. It’s just every day that passes I grow more afraid that something you can’t control will take you and there won’t be anything I can do to stop it.”
I push her back so she can look into my eyes as I vow, “I can control every part of our lives. I’ll still be here in many years to come, as old as Pope was, I’ll be even older than he was. I’ll be by your side till that day. I’m going to watch our son grow and become a man, do great things, whatever he chooses. And when the end comes, I hope that we’re lying next to each other so we don’t have to find out what it’s like to live without the other. On that day you’ll look back and see that I had everything under control. You’ll see that our son will have many memories of us together that will live on with him. Don’t be afraid. Your dad and Pope wouldn’t want you to be, and you know it.”
She holds my gaze until I drop mine to her lips, waiting for her to say she heard me, that I’m right and she won’t be scared anymore.
“If you let the fear set in, it will bury itself in you and you’ll never be free from it.”
She kisses me and in between, tells me, “Don’t ever leave me.”
Clasping her face in my hands, I pull away a fraction. “Fuckin’ never.”
I skim my finger under dress strap and flick it off of her shoulder, following suit with the other side. She doesn’t flinch or squeal that someone might see us. She trusts that I’ve got her. Taking her nipple into my mouth, I tease her between my teeth and bite until she flings her head back and gasps.
She works her fingers in my hair as I work my belt and pop open my jeans. I shove my jeans and boxers down my thighs, Tor lifting herself from my lap for a few seconds before lifting her dress up and over her hips.
