by Cat Mann
****
Julia dropped me off on our road a block away from the house. I cut through a neighbor’s yard and slipped onto the beach to walk the rest of the way home. Max’s black kitty ran behind me in the sand, struggling to catch up ... with hopes of digging more claws into my skin I was sure. I lost him when I cut up the path to our tall and narrow deck steps.
Burnt grilled cheeses sat untouched on a cold pan on the stove. They were charred and completely inedible. Her music was on, Radiohead, a dead giveaway that she was upset. Thom Yorke warbled from the in-house speaker system. The sound quality was abnormally bad with bits of static cutting through every few measures. I found her in the living room on the sofa and Max on the floor with a book.
“I’m sorry.” I started.
Her eyes were red and swollen.
“I’m sorry, Baby. I am so sorry. I hate myself for acting like that. Please…”
“You just left us.”
“I needed some air.”
“Air? Am I that suffocating?”
“God, no! I can’t breathe without you. I don’t know what I was thinking … I wasn’t thinking.” I sat sit beside her and to my surprise, she didn’t shove me away. Trying my luck, I put my hand on her knee. She allowed it so I trailed my fingers up her leg and palmed her belly.
Ava climbed on to my lap, straddling my hips. She placed her hands over mine and guided my palms to each side of her belly right where the baby was kicking. She moved her hands away and smooshed my cheeks between her palms. Keeping my face in place, keeping my eyes on her eyes.
“I love you,” she said and then whispered to prevent Max from hearing her words. “But you need to listen to what I am saying. I am not keeping anything from you. Nothing. I promise you that I am not keeping secrets. If I knew that someone wanted to harm the loves of my life, I would kill them. I will kill them.”
She meant it.
“Do you understand?”
I nodded a yes as best as I could between her pushed palms.