The Solemn Vow

by Bree Dahlia

  We weave through a pack of bikini-clad girls and go up the concrete steps. My hand shades my face as I scope out a spot.

  “Wait, this is Lake Mendota?”

  “Yep.” I bolt over to an empty table and gesture toward the sunburst chairs. “Green or yellow?”

  “Isn’t this where the sea monster lives?”

  I laugh. “What?”

  “The sea monster.” She plops down on the yellow one and pulls a clip from her bag, tying up her hair. “I read about it in The Onion once. It flipped over a paddleboat or something.”

  “You do know The Onion is satire, right?”

  “There’s a kernel of truth in everything, Mads.”

  Along with a web of lies. I rest my palms on the chair back, not ready to sit down. Not when there’s a portable beer stand ten feet away.

  “Want one?” I ask, nodding in that direction.

  “Hell yeah.”

  I get us a couple cold ones, ignoring the strip of land jutting out into the lake. It works for half a second.

  “Thanks,” she says when I return, plastering the cup to her forehead.

  “I’m pretty sure you’re supposed to drink it. Like this.” I throw back a large gulp. After this, I’m switching to water. Or soda.

  “That stuff is going to kill you.”

  “I really miss this,” Rowan says, swishing her beer around then taking a swig. “I mean, I’m happy you got a new house and all, but why couldn’t it have been in the same county as me?”

  “I feel the same.”

  Oh God. “I feel the same.”

  She thwacks her hand on the table and my head flies up. “Have you forgotten who I am already?” Huh? I open my mouth but she continues. “Something’s going on with you, and you’re not telling me what it is.” She wags her finger back and forth. “That’s not how it works between us.”

  I slink into the chair, the clear view of Picnic Point taunting me. Memories are reality’s way of tricking us into believing it exists.

  “You want to know why it didn’t work, Maddie? Because she’s not you.”

  I can’t even distinguish what’s real or not.

  “See that land over there, with all the trees? That’s where I had my first kiss.”

  She touches my hand. “Oh, Mads. Is that what this is about? You’re thinking about Jake?”

  “And… I was also there with him a couple days ago.”

  “What do you mean, you were there with him? You promised you weren’t going to see him again.”

  I shrug. What can I say? She’s right. “Um, there’s more.” Her fingers dig into my skin. “Ow!”

  “You better start talking or it’s going to get worse.”

  I yank my hand away. “We kind of kissed.”

  “What the hell does that mean? Either you did or you didn’t.”

  “It means it was a mistake.”

  “You think?”

  I put the cup to my mouth, but I don’t drink. “It was a brush of the lips, that’s all.” A grade-school kiss to match my current grade-school mentality. I feel like I’m on the playground, tattling on myself.

  She glares at me. “Oh, is that all?”

  What does it mean that she’s taking this harder than I am? “We took a walk together, and I don’t know what to say. It started quick, it ended quicker, and we swore it would never happen again. I even hiked the several miles back alone.”

  “After everything he did, why in the world were you even together in the first place?”

  I shake my head. “He can’t be entirely to blame,” I say, defending the man I was screaming at days ago. “You know the circumstances. He did what he felt was right at the time.”

  “He made his choice, and it wasn’t you. End of story.”

  I think of our texts. Not just the recent two but all of them. I don’t dare tell her, just let them smolder in my sun-baked purse.

  Her eyes turn tender. “I know times are tough with Cain. I saw for myself how he’s acting, but he’s still your husband. I’ve never known a man to love a woman more. He can’t not come around.”

  “What you saw, that’s his good side right now. Believe me, it’s much worse.”

  “Are you sure you’re not using that as an excuse?”

  Definitely not. Maybe not. God, I’m so messed up.

  “You cannot see him again. You know that, right?” I nod. “Promise me you’ll stay away. For real this time.”

  “I have it under control.”

  “Promise me, Mads.”

  “I promise I have it under control.”

  I’m curled up on the love seat, swaying my stars in front of me. Rowan left an hour ago, and the scent of sage is still heavy in the air.

  I press my fingertips to the sharp edges, not enough to puncture but enough to draw the blood closer. I hold hope in my hands. My chime reminds me that nothing is impossible. A happier life is always within reach. The meaning is still clear, even if the direction isn’t.

  I hear Cain come in from the garage. He’s been out there since Rowan and I got back.

  “What the fuck is that stench?” He enters the room, covered in black gunk.

  “Rowan did a blessing on our house to remove negative energy.” He rolls his eyes. “Hey, we both heard a loud crash in the middle of the night. Did something happen?” I omit the part about hearing it through a recording.

  “Why the hell you asking me? You have working eyes and legs. Look around and check it out for yourself. I’m taking a shower.”

  “I just asked. There’s no need—”

  “And open some fucking windows, will you? I’m sure that’s one thing you can manage around here.”

  He takes off, and I release hope to drop in my lap.

  For better or for worse.

  But what do you do when the worse starts outweighing the better?

  What do you do when it’s too bad to stay but too good to leave?

  Thirteen

  Meet me tomorrow?

  Tomorrow is today. I turned my phone off last night and slept in the parlor because I needed that break. From Cain. From Jake. Even from Rowan reminding me what I should do. I already know what I should do. That’s not the problem.

  The problem is more complex than simply staying away from him. Now that Jake’s mentioned his unhappy marriage, I crave more of an explanation. I couldn’t stand to hear his earlier apologies, but now I’m desperate to find out if he’s suffered as much as me.

  It feels twisted, but buried heartache often is. It festers, and it’s ugly. Spending time with Jake only illuminated the deeply hidden. I did not completely move on like I once believed. Cain glued together my broken pieces, but he missed a crack. And now it’s spreading.

  But despite it all, my principles remain intact. They’ve survived all the daggers my husband’s thrown at them. I’m aware enough to know the first time with Jake was a slip-up, but the next time wouldn’t be.

  That’s not a good idea, I reply.

  I agree, but you must be stronger than me.

  No, I’m not. That’s why I’m staying away.

  I set the phone down and step out on the porch, realizing I just put myself out there once again, but it fails to have the same panicky effect.

  The text alert sounds, but I avoid going back in until I can’t take it anymore. My delayed gratification lasted less time than it takes to brush my teeth.

  An elephant is pregnant for 22 months. And you thought you had problems.

  I laugh hard. Thanks. I needed that.

  Anytime. I used to get my facts from someone else, but I was cut off.

  It seems like you’re managing just fine on your own.

  I’m not. I feel like I was sent to bed without my supper for being too mischievous.

  Nothing like a sharp tug on the heartstrings. He would have to bring Max, the king of all wild things, into it.

  You just reminded me I should be working.

  But that’s not what’s driving me right n
ow. What I want is to lie back with an iced coffee and trade texts with Jake all day. I want my cheeks to get sore and my eyes to water. I want to read Where the Wild Things Are with him again. I want to feel good.

  Me too. I have pictures to take.

  I’m typing out a reply when another comes in. I won’t ask you to meet me again.

  I erase what I wrote and send Okay instead. My chest constricts.

  But can we still text?

  My chest relaxes.

  Yes.

  I’m surprised at how productive I’ve been. It’s going to be a long process, but Sharon’s pleased with the preliminary ideas I sent her so far. It’s flowing visually enough to move on to full-size sketches. Even my dismal surroundings are no match for my muse. She’s kicking ass.

  All my work has been done at home, proving I’ve overcome my blocks. The last time I went to the city was with Rowan, not even for the farmers’ market. The noises in the walls are much less frequent, or maybe I’ve learned to tune them out.

  I’ve also learned to rely on daily consistencies. Cain’s mood: shitty. Sex and affection: nonexistent. Jake’s texts: frequent.

  Guess where I am?

  Yeah, it’s a wonder I’m accomplishing anything at all, but I’ve come to believe all this texting is fostering my creativity, not squashing it.

  Tofuland?

  That was last week.

  I laugh. Bean sprout farm?

  Good try, but guess again.

  Musclehead convention?

  A picture comes in, and I have to enlarge it to make sure. No way. You’re seriously at Vino’s? And is that a mac and cheese pizza? My stomach growls. I can’t remember the last time I had one of those.

  Yep.

  With real cheese?

  And a crust stuffed with gluten. Not a vegetable in sight.

  Wow. You’d better be careful. I’m typing That stuff is going to kill you when Cain comes home. I stash the phone away.

  He breezes past me and throws his stuff on the counter. Then he proceeds to go around slamming all the windows shut. A sliver of wood falls into the sink.

  “Damn it, Maddie. It’s like a fucking armpit out there. Don’t you know better than to open the windows when it’s so goddamn humid out?”

  He stomps away and up the stairs, the boards creaking under his weight.

  “Fuck you, Cain,” I whisper.

  I’m an artist. I’ve drawn countless lines only to erase them later when they no longer suited me. I’m no stranger to extending them farther out as needed, even performing a complete redesign when the situation calls for it. It’s my specialty.

  And since I’ve altered so many already, what’s one more?

  “Maddie?”

  “Hi.”

  I tuck my legs closer to me and hug my arm to my midsection. The butterflies are fanatics, but they’re a good crazy. They make my body feel the way it was designed to be—alive.

  “Hold on one minute, okay?”

  “Okay.”

  The fluttering moves up to my throat. I’ve come to expect the thrill that occurs whenever the text alert chimes, but this is a whole new high.

  I wait for him to return, clutching the phone tighter. I recall the time we talked while I stood on my back porch, the time I almost got caught. It felt nothing like this.

  “Hey there.”

  “Hi,” I say again, the tremor in my muscles suddenly apparent. It’s as if all the texts over the past days were foreplay and to hear his sound in my ear is one breath’s away from a full-body climax.

  “I thought you only wanted to text?”

  “I changed my mind.” I’m an artist. It’s what I do. I almost giggle, I’m so punch-drunk.

  “I’m glad you did.”

  “Me too.”

  “So, what’s on the agenda today?”

  “Work, like usual.” I stretch out on the love seat, allowing the butterflies a free pass. The warm breeze from the open window blankets me. “And you?”

  “The same. Spending the day at home.”

  He telecommutes for the company in Chicago while building his photography business. The fact that I know exactly where he is gives me a buzz. Across from Miranda’s. Above Mad Vinyl. Nineteen-minute drive.

  “And here I thought you’d be off in some exotic locale snapping pictures of wildflowers or endangered species.”

  “Nope. My bedroom’s as exotic as it gets today.”

  A bolt strikes. His bedroom. The heavy oak bed is etched in my brain. Could it be the same? I’m sure he needed furniture when he got the new place. It’s not a far-off idea to think the bed was stored away and saved since high school. After all, he still has the same phone number.

  Then I imagine him in it and chastise myself. I haven’t gone that far, haven’t obliterated all my boundaries.

  “Maddie, you there?”

  I swallow twice before answering, “Yeah.” I think of my bed instead. My cold, sterile marriage bed.

  “Are you sure you want to do this?”

  My mind goes erratic. “Do what?”

  His breaths cut through the silence, and I feel prickly. Fewer butterflies and more wasps.

  “Talk,” he finally says. “Keep in contact.” I hiss in air and hope he didn’t hear. “Please don’t ever think I don’t want that. You have no idea how good it felt when you called me, but I don’t want to put you in an uncomfortable position. I never want to hurt you again.”

  “Why?” I ask softly. “Why did you have to hurt me at all?”

  “Maddie….” His breathing is deeper, and I picture his head dropped low. “I wish to God I didn’t. I made a mistake and did what was expected of me. I didn’t follow my heart.”

  My eyes burn with trapped tears. I keep them in their cages, not permitting this to ruin me a second time. I can’t handle reliving it, but I need to know.

  “When we broke up, did you suffer at all?”

  “I’ve done nothing but suffer since that day I let you walk away.”

  I press my palms to my eyes, letting the phone slip. Hearing confirmation of his pain doesn’t give me the closure I thought I needed. All it does is make the hole bigger.

  I curl my legs back to their original position and cradle the phone with my shoulder. “Can we please talk about something else? Something… happy.”

  “Well, I think your website’s pretty kickass. That’s happy.”

  “My website?” I’ve never mentioned my little slice of real estate before. He was interested enough to take it upon himself and look. My lips change direction. That is happy.

  “I’ve been checking it out, seeing if I can find any new tat ideas.”

  I laugh. “You are not.”

  “Would I lie to you?”

  No, he’s been known to be cruelly honest, even when I wished to be kept in the dark. I redirect back to happy.

  “In that case, I have a sketch of an angel bunny I can show you. It’d look adorable on you.”

  “Bring it on. You know where to find me.”

  Yes, I do. Casual comment or not, it makes me suck in a breath. My throat is going to be raw before the conversation is through. I sink into the cushions.

  “Hey, am I able to call you back? I have to jump on a conference call for a bit. If not….”

  “No, it’s fine. I should get going anyway.”

  “If it gets too late, I’ll text first. And Maddie? Thank you. It’s wonderful hearing your voice.”

  “You’re welcome.” I feel the same.

  We disconnect, and I bring the phone to my chest, holding it there while staring at the ceiling. I should get up, but I can make up the hours tonight if needed. I’ll be able to concentrate since Cain has meetings and won’t be home.

  “I’ve done nothing but suffer since that day I let you walk away.”

  Jake’s words are equally uplifting and disheartening. For years after the breakup, I doubted everything: our relationship, his love, my own self-worth. I never came to terms with how he co
uld let someone go who he claimed to care so much about. Who he claimed was his forever. His deep regrets bring me solace, but they also create more sadness. It was all senseless. So much pain for nothing. So many promises broken.

  I let my eyes drift closed as memories wash over me. No turning back, only forward.

  The shrill ring yanks my lids up, my groggy head confirming I dozed off. But my lips are fully alert, making me question if I fell asleep with the smile.

  “Took you long enough,” I tease, floating in a different kind of bubble. The sun is still high in the sky, and I have plenty of time to drift. And to talk.

  “For what?”

  I jerk the phone away and check the screen. “Rowan?”

  “Uh, yeah. Who were you expecting?”

  “Why are you calling at this time? I thought you started summer school?”

  “It’s canceled today. The kids are off on some field trip.”

  “Oh. So, how’s it going?” I swing my legs over the side and get up to water my parched throat.

  “Nothing new here. But I’ve been thinking a lot about your situation. I’m leaning more toward a different cause for Cain’s weirdness.”

  “You’ve ruled out demonic possession, then?” I chug an entire glass, refilling it before going back to the parlor.

  “I’m thinking it was just some male hormonal phase. You know, since he’s back to normal again and you’re getting along fine.”

  I snort. “Yeah, right.”

  “You promised!” she screams through the line, making me cough up the water I was in the process of swallowing.

  I wipe my chin with the back of my hand. “What the hell?”

  “I knew it! I knew you thought it was Jake calling.”

  “What do you mean? I—”

  “Don’t you dare lie to me.”

  I sigh, pacing around the room. “I never broke my promise. I didn’t see him again. And with the exception of today, we’ve only texted.”

  “Only?”

  “Yes.” What’s she insinuating?

  “You shouldn’t even be doing that!”

  I pull the phone from my ear. “There’s no need to yell.”

  “Then stop giving me reasons to.”

  “I talk to him like I talk to you, like friends. Nothing wrong with that.”