These Sorrows We See

by Schultz, Tamsen

  “Have a seat,” she said. He sat down at the kitchen island and watched as she made her cup of tea.

  She sat on a stool across from him. “How are you?” she asked gently.

  Douglas tilted his head, his eyes still downcast, but didn’t give her more of an answer than that.

  “Did you meet with the police this morning?”

  His eyes came up and another look of sorrow crossed through them. “Yes, we did. Sandra went home, back to Connecticut, after we talked to them. Since they aren’t,” his voice cracked and he paused for a moment to clear it. “Since they aren’t releasing Brad’s body until they are done with the investigation, she wanted to be home, near her friends.”

  “And you?”

  Douglas’s eyes drifted away. “Our social circle is hers. It should come as no surprise to you, Matty, that I don’t have many friends of my own. Besides, I wasn’t quite ready to leave yet. It doesn’t, it just doesn’t feel right,” he added.

  Matty had nothing to say to that, so she simply sat and sipped her tea in silence. Douglas sat across from her, tracing patterns on the countertop, his eyes fixed there.

  After several minutes, Douglas cleared his throat. “I don’t,” he paused again then looked up. “I know it’s too late, Matty. I know I can’t change the past and probably not even the future. I’m not a very good person. I’m weak and I’ve led a passive life, letting everyone—letting Sandra—make all the decisions, define who I am and what I am. It’s been so long since I made a decision for myself, I’m not even sure I know how anymore. And even if I did, I suspect no one would take me seriously since I’ve never done it before.”

  Matty set her mug down and watched Douglas as he looked away, hiding the glimpse of shame she’d caught in his eyes.

  Keeping his eyes averted, he continued. “At this point in my life, there’s only one good thing that’s left.” Douglas turned his eyes back to hers, “You. And I know I have no right to even claim that,” he added.

  He didn’t, but Matty was never one to kick a man when he was down. Besides, despite who he was, despite everything that she and her mother had gone through because of his cowardice and weakness, she wasn’t unmoved by the despair she heard in his voice. It was as if he believed he’d had no will or ability to change anything; that everything in his life, all his past sins, even those of omission, were so overwhelming that he didn’t deserve anything other than what life threw at him. It didn’t escape Matty’s notice that this attitude, too, was a sign of weakness, but given that he’d just lost his son, she didn’t feel the need to point it out.

  She took another sip of tea and listened to the wind gust against the house. “Where are you staying?” she asked.

  Douglas looked about to say something else, then answered her question, “The Tavern. It’s downtown.”

  Matty nodded. “And how long do you think you’ll stay?”

  He managed a small shrug, “I don’t know. As long as they are still investigating? Until I feel like I can leave,” he added.

  She had nothing to say to that so they lapsed back into silence. After several more minutes passed, Douglas put his hands on the table and pushed himself up. Matty, following his lead, rose as well.

  “I guess I should be going,” he said.

  “Is there anything here you’d like to take with you? Really, Douglas, I’ll take good care of everything, I don’t want you to think otherwise, but if there is something you want, I’d like for you to have it.”

  For a long moment he just looked at her with his sad, blue eyes. “Maybe a picture, if he has any?” he finally said.

  She thought for a moment and then remembered an album she’d seen downstairs. Excusing herself, she jogged downstairs and quickly located what she was looking for. It was the one she’d found several days ago that was filled with images of Brad, Douglas, and Sandra over a period that looked to cover Brad’s high school and maybe early college years. Returning to the kitchen, she handed the album over to Douglas.

  “I found this the other day. I think you’ll like it,” she said. He took the album and flipped it open to the first page. She watched as his eyes filled. Blinking back the moisture, he closed it and, with a cracking voice, thanked her. She nodded and walked him to the door.

  He was about halfway to his car when she called out. “Douglas?” He paused and turned. “There’s a storm coming,” she shouted over the wind. “Be safe.”

  Again, he looked at her for a long moment, before nodding. “You, too, Mathilde. You, too,” he replied. Then, through the gusts, he made his way to his car and drove off.

  Feeling inexplicably sad after the visit, Matty reentered the kitchen and knelt down to give Bob a good rub, hoping that seeing his happy face would make her feel better. And for a moment, it did. But still, the rest of the afternoon was somber as she alternately worked on her book, picked up a bit, and mulled over what to make for dinner. The house was silent except for her movements, the occasional sounds of the dogs moving about, and the frequent gusts of wind. She found herself gratefully sinking into the peace, using it to soothe and calm the emotions that had been drummed up by her conversations with her mother and Douglas.

  As evening fell, Matty found herself at the desk in the office, staring out the big, picture window, thinking of nothing in particular—especially not her latest book, which sat almost complete on the laptop in front of her. She was watching one of the cows make its way toward the barn when she noticed the unusual color of the sky.

  She frowned. It looked green.

  Glancing at the clock, she noted that it was close to five—Dash would be coming back soon, but it was too early to be quite so dark. Her frown deepened as she continued to stare at the sky, not quite sure what to make of it. She was fascinated by the color, a hue she’d never seen before that looked slightly sinister.

  Lost in thought, Matty jumped when, simultaneously, the dogs started barking and a radio came on. Shaken by the sudden onslaught of noise, she was momentarily confused. Why was the radio on? And where was it?

  Hoping that it was Dash the dogs were barking at, she rose hesitantly from her seat, a little freaked out by the radio going on by itself. She followed the sound and realized it was coming from the kitchen. Pausing at the kitchen door, she tentatively looked around the room, wondering if whoever had come after Brad—if someone had come after Brad—might be back.

  The kitchen appeared empty and she was about to step in when the radio, what it was actually reporting, registered in her brain. At the same time, the patio door slammed open and Dash came charging in. His eyes scanned the room until they landed on her, still standing in the office doorway trying to grasp the situation.

  “Matty! We need to get down to the basement. There’s a tornado alert in the county and one has already touched down just north of Riverside,” he exclaimed, coming toward her. She felt like she was in an alternate world, the reality of what was going on just skirting the edges of her comprehension. She’d read about tornados, donated quite a bit to the recovery after they’d hit Joplin, Missouri, but she’d never been anywhere where they actually occurred.

  “Matty, come on,” Dash said, grabbing her arm and dragging her to the stairs. That brought her out of her fog.

  “The dogs, Dash?” she asked, suddenly frantic.

  “Are they all in the house?”

  She nodded.

  “Then call them and they’ll come with us.” He was pulling her closer to the stairs.

  “But the cats?”

  “Trust me, the cats will take care of themselves, so will the cows. They’ll go where they feel the safest.”

  “What about the chickens and the rabbits? We can’t just leave them out there, Dash,” she pleaded, knowing in her heart that it was ridiculous to care about them so much when the situation could turn deadly at any given moment. But still, she couldn’t bring herself to be so callous as to disregard them; there’d been enough bystanders in her life, enough people who’d sat by a
nd watched terrible things happen, that it was hard for her to consider leaving behind animals she had promised Brad she’d take care of.

  “Matty,” Dash said, his tone of voice trying to reason with her.

  And then something unexpected happened. Maybe it was the stress of the past few days or the emotional conversations with her mom and Douglas, but her eyes welled up. Dash froze.

  She bit her lower lip. “I’m sorry, Dash. Just ignore me—it’s been a long day. Let’s get down to the basement room. We’ll be safe there and there’s even a bed and a bathroom if we need to stay the night.” She took a step toward the stairs and Dash stopped her.

  “Find some cardboard or tape and cover the windows. I’ve only seen them from the field, but if I remember correctly, they aren’t very big so it should be a quick job. Then find a place to put the rabbits. There are too many chickens for me to carry, but I can bring the rabbits back for you.”

  A single tear fell. “I swear this isn’t normal for me, Dash, and I don’t want you to risk your life for the rabbits—”

  He cut her off with a quick kiss then turned and started jogging away. “If there is a bathroom downstairs, the tub or if there is an enclosed shower, would make a good spot for the rabbits,” he called back. And then he was gone.

  Matty stood for a moment before a gust of wind hit the house, rousing her into action. She hurried down the stairs and tackled first things first. She found some duct tape, emptied a few of the boxes that held Brad’s files and used the cardboard to tape over the windows. It wouldn’t totally protect them from flying glass, but it would help. She was just tearing up some paper she’d grabbed from the storage area and dumping it in the tub when she heard Dash coming down the stairs followed by a clattering of doggy toenails.

  Within seconds, he appeared in the doorway. It must have started raining because he was soaking wet. His shirt was plastered to his body, his hair flat against his head, and his jeans, darkened with water, clung to his thighs. And in his arms were two wet bunnies.

  She motioned him over and he gently placed the rabbits in the bathtub. They scrambled around, their feet trying to catch purchase on the ceramic tub, then finally settled down.

  “Thank you,” she said, wrapping her arms around him, heedless of the cold soaking through from his wet clothes. His arms came around hers and he rested his cheek on the top of her head.

  “I’m glad I got them in here before things turn too bad,” he said. “Rabbits are more delicate than people think. They should be fine, but they are wet and I can’t vouch for how they are going to handle the sudden change in location.”

  “That’s okay,” she said, still leaning against him. “I know it’s totally irrational, but I just couldn’t stand the thought of leaving them out there. Not when they are dependent on me,” she added. She felt Dash take in a deep breath and let it out before he spoke again.

  “Want to tell me what happened today?” he asked gently, resting his cheek on her head.

  It didn’t surprise her that he hadn’t missed, or forgotten, the reference she’d made earlier about the long day she’d had since he’d dropped her off. And whether it was the events of the day, or the current situation, or even the possibility that she was actually “growing up,” the thought of really just laying everything on the table didn’t seem too scary.

  She pulled away and inclined her head. “Yes, I will, but I want to make sure we’re set for what’s coming first. I fed the dogs already so they should be set for the night. I don’t have anything for the rabbits to eat or drink, will they be okay?”

  Dash nodded. “They’ll be fine for the night. This storm system shouldn’t last more than six or seven hours so, if we’re still awake when it’s over, we can either take them back outside or bring them food if we feel they need it.”

  Matty glanced at the rabbits, who seemed to have settled down. She was glad they were there, glad they were safe, and though she still didn’t get the point of pet rabbits, knowing they were rescues and guessing at what kind of life they’d had before Brad had taken them in did soften her toward them.

  “I don’t have any food for us,” she commented as they moved toward the main room of the basement.

  “I’ll be fine for a while,” Dash said. “Like I said, this system shouldn’t last too long. Don’t get me wrong, it could do a lot of damage in a short amount of time, but provided we don’t get caught in the direct path of a tornado, within a few hours we should be able to venture upstairs for food.”

  She considered this, considered the fact that he had way more experience in this type of situation, and simply nodded. “Why don’t you take off your wet clothes so they can dry?” she suggested, gesturing with her hand toward the heating vent. She figured as long as they had power they could turn the heat on and dry his clothes. And even if they didn’t have heat, she had no doubt that the two of them could stay warm, if needed, tucked up under the quilts lying on the big bed.

  Following her gaze to the bed, Dash began pulling off his wet clothes. Matty took them as they came off, turned on the heat, and laid them over the vent. Down to his boxers and white undershirt, he climbed into the bed with Matty and they curled up against each other, listening to the wind, with the dogs scattered around them on the floor.

  “Your parents?” she asked, suddenly remembering that the universe consisted of more than just her and Dash.

  “I spoke to them just before I arrived,” he answered. “They were already set up in their cellar and ready to wait it out like the rest of us.”

  She let out a little sigh of relief.

  “Now do you want to tell me about your day?” Dash prompted as the lights flickered. “Wait, do you have flashlights?” he asked first.

  Matty nodded against his chest, where she lay with her cheek against him. “In the side tables,” she answered as the lights flickered again and then went out. It wasn’t all that dark for a basement, or at least on a normal day it wouldn’t have been. But between the clouds and the small, covered windows, the room fell into a sort of a dusky stillness. “Do I need to be worried about pilot lights or anything?” she asked before answering Dash’s first question. She could feel him shaking his head.

  “No, we’ll check everything once the power comes back on; but for now, it’s just you and me and no technology.” So talk to me was the unspoken end of that sentence. So she did.

  The siren at the volunteer fire department had gone off not long after the power had died and a few phone calls had come in on their cell phones from concerned family. But still, despite these interruptions, despite the storm raging outside, they talked. They talked for several long hours in the dark—about her, about him, about life in general. She told him about her conversation with her mother, about their different childhoods and how those childhoods influenced how each of them had internalized their experiences in the projects. And that led to more conversation about just what her life in the projects had been like—what it had been like, on a day-to-day basis, to live and survive in the part of the Bronx she’d come from.

  Then she told Dash about the visit from Douglas and how she’d realized she no longer felt any anger toward him. Oh, she didn’t particularly like him, but when she thought about Douglas, her overall feeling was one of sadness.

  Dash told her about what usually happened when tornados hit, which they didn’t do often—only a few times in his life. He talked about the destruction and then the cleanup that would be needed in the next several days. Thankfully, no one had ever been killed in a tornado locally, and they both hoped that record would stand.

  Hours into their time tucked away in the basement, the storm seemed to ease. It was nighttime by then, so hard to tell if the skies had cleared through the blocked windows, but Dash got up from the bed and cautiously pulled back one of the cardboard window coverings.

  “I can see the stars,” he said.

  Matty let out a small sigh of relief and they made their way back upstairs, followed by the do
gs. Though it was late in the night, neither had eaten dinner, so Matty began putting a light meal together while Dash called family and friends, checking in on everyone.

  As she gathered the ingredients for omelets, she gave a moment of thought to the time they’d just spent downstairs. She could feel vulnerable if she thought about, if she thought about everything she’d told Dash. But the truth was, she felt strong, she felt settled, and she felt sure—not necessarily sure of the future, but sure that she had done the right thing. It was the right time and Dash was the right man.

  “Everyone all right?” she asked when he hung up from his last call.

  He wagged his head. “More or less. As far as we know no one has been killed, but at least one tornado touched down not far from the thoroughbred farm where Trudy works, where we went the other day when I delivered that foal,” he reminded her. She nodded, remembering the birth.

  “And we know another one touched down just north of town,” he added.

  “What about your parents and Kristen? Was her dad in town? Is she okay?” she asked.

  Dash smiled. “My parents are fine. They actually went and got Kristen after I talked to them. They weren’t sure if her dad was around, and apparently he’s not, so she spent the last few hours with them.”

  Matty shook her head. “What is his deal? I don’t know the man, I hardly know Kristen, but it seems extreme to continually leave your fourteen-year-old daughter on her own.”

  Dash agreed with her as they sat down to eat. “I barely know him myself. He pays his bills on time and I’ve only seen him maybe a handful of times. I know his wife, Kristen’s mom, died when Kristen was five and he’s an executive with an oil company, but other than that.” A shrug completed his sentence.

  Matty thought the situation seemed awfully sad, maybe because she could identify with an absent father. But then again, she didn’t know what was worse, a father completely out of the picture or a father that flitted in and out of the picture at will.