I take in her words, run them through my brain like a copy machine. I don’t overthink them. I just sit with them and watch them disappear from my mind.
“I can bet that prison is similar to grief, too?” she asks, looking at me.
I’ve experienced both.
Beth looks out across the land again. “Every night, I used to sit in Ella’s room after she died, trying to make sense of it all. Boy”—she shakes her head—“God took the brunt of that one. For years, I slept in her room. Stayed in her room for hours during the day. Reorganizing her room, moving furniture, only to move it in the exact way she’d had it before. Then, one day, a loud voice said, ‘Deal with it, Mom. Then, move on.’ ” Beth smiles through her pain of loss, a smile that exists somewhere between relief and sadness.
Prison is a lot like grief. I can metaphorically move furniture around, my thoughts, my feelings. I can organize myself, try to compartmentalize where I stand, but until I deal with the weight, the gravity of what happened—deal with it—I can’t move on. Or I can just push it away like I’ve always done, organizing and moving shit around.
“So, I dealt with it. I looked at myself, looked at the grief, meshed it together, and felt my way through it.”
Beth looks at me keenly and then back to the land. In this moment right now, I realize that it doesn’t matter if James and Beth know about Luke’s cancer; they will move on—eventually. It will hurt, and Beth will most likely retreat to the safety of Luke’s bedroom once he’s gone, but someday, she will get back on her two feet to live another day.
“Talked to God a hell of a lot. But I stopped asking God why because Nancy Durell down the road said, ‘Honey, God’s grieving with you.’ Hit me like a ton of bricks when I realized Nancy was right.” Beth looks at Luke. “Everyone grieves in their own way. Some have to leave because the pain of where they’re at, both emotionally and physically, is just too much. But others like to stay put in it. I have no idea why all this is coming out, Catherine, but you really make a good listener. Thank you.” Beth winks at me.
But I’m absorbing more than she knows.
“Well, shall we go in and get supper ready?” Beth asks as she stands.
“Right behind you,” I say, following her lead.
“You boys stay out of trouble. We’re going to go get supper ready.”
James and Luke are still in deep conversation about the cattle.
I walk over to Luke and kiss him on the cheek. “I love you,” I whisper and soak up the feeling these words give me.
He leans into me, closes his eyes, and then whispers, “I love you always.”
If only we had always.
“We looked great on the outside. But not on the inside,” I say about my family to Luke as we lie in bed.
He lightly drags his fingers across my bicep.
“We didn’t talk about anything. Not like your family. Everything was pushed under the rug in a nice, neat pile, and Ingrid and I were asked not to say a word, and if we did, lying would be better.”
Luke’s breaths are measured, and his heart has the same rhythm I fell in love with.
What if Luke breaks me? What if I snap? What if my grief makes me crazy like it did Mother?
“My mother is in a home. Can’t feed herself—or won’t feed herself. Won’t take care of herself. She hasn’t spoken a word since that night everything happened.” Things he already knows.
“Do you know why?” Luke asks.
“A wise woman once told me that everyone processes grief a little differently. My guess is, she can’t. She’s living on the outside but dying on the inside.”
“Have you told her that?”
“No.” My answer catches me off guard because it comes out so quickly. Disbelief sits on the edge of my shoulder, wondering why he would ask such a question. And in the same token, why haven’t I told her that? When you’re raised a certain way for so long, the coping, the learned skills become who you are—even when you don’t know it.
Maybe I should tell Mother that.
“I don’t want to be stuck, Luke.” I run my fingers through his chest hair. “After you die”—my feelings get caught in my throat—“I don’t want to be stuck.”
“You won’t, Cat.”
“How do you know?”
“Because you know better.”
Luke kisses the top of my head, still running his finger along my bicep. I still play with the tuft of hair on his chest.
Something I’d rather say internally, I say out loud, “Sometimes, I’d rather not have moments like these, the ones where I’m so comfortable with you, so peaceful, only because it would be easier when you’re gone.”
“If that were the case, there’d be no living proof that we fell in love. Make a trail, Cat. Let others know our story. Through sadness, we can find truth and love and all things go—” But before Luke can finish, he starts to cough.
I jump up from the bed, grab a roll of toilet paper, and go back into the bedroom. Luke is sitting up now, coughing harder.
I roll some of the toilet paper in my hand and push it to his mouth.
Press my hand to his back as I wish he didn’t have to feel through this.
After some time, the coughing has ceased, and I take the used toilet paper and flush it down the toilet.
We spend three days with Beth and James.
Eating dinner at their table in their dining room.
Laughing.
Discussing the world.
Talking about life.
Sleeping in Luke’s childhood room at night.
Making love at night—quietly.
Making biscuits.
Working on the ranch.
We ride horses, which I’ve only done twice before in my life.
Father’s career allowed us to do a lot, Ingrid and me. But what it didn’t do was allow for the simple things in life to be enjoyable, like sitting and talking and being present for one another.
What a day of rest and relaxation would do for one at the McCays’ wouldn’t fly at the Clemens’. Ingrid and I would spend all day wondering if we’d done everything correctly.
Perhaps it’s my childhood perception. Perhaps it’s just my childhood feelings, but everything about the McCay house is so much simpler, so much more real and happier.
James and Beth are on the porch as Luke and I are walking out to an old tree across the land. We’re holding hands and laughing about a meme we saw about cats versus dogs.
All of a sudden, Luke picks me up and throws me over his shoulder, and he’s running to the tree. We’re laughing and breathing hard, and somehow, I can’t stop smiling.
I have no power.
No control.
I’m in an awkward spot, and I’m pretty sure my ass is in Luke’s face.
And yet, I’m beaming with gratitude.
“Put me down!” I laugh. “I’m going to break your shoulder!”
Luke laughs. “It’s going to take a lot more than a hundred pounds to break my shoulder!”
He picks up speed and I have no idea how he’s doing this, but for once in my life, I don’t feel unsafe or unloved or not good enough.
I feel free.
We reach the tree, and Luke gently sets me down right in front of him. He gazes into my eyes and pushes my long hair back, taking my cheeks in his hands.
We both continue to laugh until we can’t. Until we allow our reality to fall back in line.
Luke stares at me and begins to quietly sing.
The first time I met you,
I tried to fight it,
That we couldn’t work,
’Cause my time was limited.
Tried to convince myself you were perfect when
Nobody is perfect.
But then you smiled,
And I smiled,
And we laughed,
And love came sneaking up on us.
I held you in my arms,
Willing you to believe
Everything was okay.
The light we see,
Meant for you and me.
Pieces of me you put together,
Made me stronger,
Us stronger,
We were made for one another.
Life in the moment,
That’s how we’ll live
Until I take my last breath,
Until I can’t feel you beneath my skin.
That’s how we’ll stay.
Your last memory of me,
Hold it with clarity.
Keep it alive,
And every time you remember it,
Know I’m with you.
The light we see,
Meant for you and me.
Pieces of me you put together,
Made me stronger,
Us stronger,
We were made for one another.
Catherine. Oh, Catherine.
Things don’t just happen.
We’ll love until we can’t.
Tears stream down my cheeks.
“You’re not supposed to cry, Cat,” Luke whispers and wipes them with his finger.
I don’t have any words for him. I can’t answer him because somehow, the words are lodged between the tears.
“When you can’t feel me anymore, know that I am with you, and I’ll make sure you love again.”
“I-I don’t want to,” I barely choke out.
“Yes, you do. It’s just hard to see your life with anyone else but me. Give yourself time, Cat. But for right now, I’m here and you’re here and we’re together.”
I wrap my arms around his middle, rest my ear against his chest, and try to memorize the rhythm of his heart.
This needs to be enough for this moment.
Mother taught us not to speak when we’re bothered, but rather, just keep moving, so when I see on Luke’s phone, Missed Call—Wife, I want to throw up.
I want to run.
Surely though, there has to be an explanation, right?
Luke asked me to marry him.
He can’t be a husband to two women.
My thoughts start to spin and build on themselves and twist and turn my mind into something it’s not. Maybe. Or something it is.
How come no one said anything?
Wife continues to flash across his phone screen.
Luke opens the car door and sits back down in the passenger seat.
My head spins.
I stare down at my ring, the one Luke gave me. The only piece of jewelry I wear.
“Gas is expensive but not as bad as California,” he says. Looks at me.
I’m not sure what to say. What to do. Is this whole trip a facade?
What is happening?
How did I miss this in my Google search? He’s been connected with Hollywood actresses and non-actresses, but nothing serious. And also, how could I have been so stupid, so naive to believe that a guy like Luke wouldn’t have women on the side?
“Catherine!” I hear his voice.
“What?” I ask, trying to pretend the last thirty seconds wasn’t me drifting in and out of fear.
“What’s wrong?”
I can feel him staring at my profile.
“Nothing.” My voice is weak, and I had intentions of it being strong, of brushing off my own insecurities.
I bet his wife is as beautiful as he is.
How come Uncle Al and Aunt Gene acted like I wasn’t the other woman?
How come James and Beth never said anything, especially after they saw the ring?
How come nobody said a fucking thing?
How come my thoughts are so loud?
How come the fear and anger are screaming at me?
I attempt to start the car, but Luke pulls out the keys.
“Catherine, fucking talk to me. What is wrong?” he asks, holding the keys in his hand.
Keep moving forward, I tell myself.
Luke still has the keys, but I can’t be in this moment with Luke. It hurts too much.
I get out of the car and slam the door and start to walk.
I hear a car door shut behind me.
He doesn’t say my name, but I know he’s behind me.
Keep moving forward.
“Catherine.”
Keep walking. I don’t know where I’m headed, and there’s traffic and it’s difficult to navigate and I just need out.
“Catherine!” he says again. “Stop.”
His hands reach around my shoulders, and he tries to stop me.
“Let go,” I tell him.
He lets go, and I keep walking.
“Catherine. Please, if you don’t stop, I can’t help fix whatever is wrong.” He reaches for my hand.
I continue to make my way down the busy road.
“Good love is worth the argument; great love is worth fighting for.” Beth’s advice is clear.
But it’s when he grabs my shoulders and doesn’t let go.
Turning into his pull, I say, “Why the hell is your wife calling your cell phone?”
He freezes. His eyes wide, his face stoic, he doesn’t know what to say. He’s caught off guard.
I hold up my hands. “Come on; you want to talk about it, right?”
My breathing is staggered, and my eyes search for a simple explanation in his eyes, but Luke, he doesn’t have one.
“Why is your wife calling your cell phone, Luke? I hate talking about shit. I hate it. And I’m not good at it because I never had to do it as a kid. I’m shitty at it, and running is easier.”
I stand on the side of the busy road, and Luke is rendered speechless.
The dark circles under his eyes are more pronounced, more noticeable, and I try not to give in to his sullen look.
Fight for your rights. He owes you an explanation. I hear Ingrid’s voice. And listen to it.
“What do you have to say for yourself, Luke?”
God. I put my hands on my head in my own stupidity. “I made love to you, Luke.” My voice begins to break, but I swallow through it. I don’t care who hears us.
He stands there like a school-age boy and takes my words. All of them.
“How can you possibly get yourself out of this one?” I ask breathlessly as I take off the ring he gave me. I put the nail in the coffin. “Is this hers, too, or did you get a two-for-one special?” I grab his hand and put the ring back in his palm. “Don’t follow me, Luke. I need some space.”
I turn on my heel and walk toward a stoplight, crossing the street. Surely, this ought to be easier than dealing with the situation at hand. Besides, how can you outtalk this one? How can you possibly outsmart the situation?
He’s caught.
I’m furious, which isn’t in my genetic makeup. I’m not sure how to deal with this. I think I’m angrier with myself for allowing myself to fall in love with him.
I don’t hear my name, nor do I look back. I keep walking toward the lights, praying I’ll find a hotel room or something.
Shit. My wallet, my phone, everything is in the car. I can’t go back.
I need a phone to call Eddie. He can charge a hotel room, and we can count it against the house sale.
Pay phones don’t exist anymore, but after a mile and a half or so, I find a Holiday Inn Express. I walk in, shaking.
“Can I use your phone?” I ask the man behind the desk without a name tag. “I lost my purse.”
He puts the black phone on the counter, and I walk to it, realizing I don’t have Eddie’s number memorized.
Shit.
“Catherine.” I hear Luke say from behind me. He touches my shoulder. “At least give me a chance to explain. Give me that. Please.”
Every muscle and every bone in my body wants to say no, but my heart refuses to accept no as an answer.
“Good love is worth the argument; great love is worth fighting for.”
I look at the man across the counter, the nice gentleman who allowed me to use the phone. His eyes move from me to Luke and back to me. If he asks Luke if he’s Dylan Klein, I’l
l scream.
Instead, he leans forward and whispers, “I’d let him explain.”
Even if you drove more than halfway through the United States, thinking he didn’t have a wife?
“Two rooms, please. Nonsmoking.” Luke cautiously walks up to the counter and looks at the man and then to me. “I’ll get two rooms, and if you don’t want to stay with me after you know the full story, you’ll have your own room to go to. Deal?”
The anger I felt just moments ago has somehow faded somewhat. The pace of my heart has slowed.
Let him explain, a voice says in my head.
The man from behind the counter takes Luke’s card and runs it.
Nervously, I tap my foot, wait for the transaction to clear, and think of all the possible ways Luke could make this right, redeem himself, and I also think about all the ways this could blow up in my face.
Before I turn to go with Luke to get our stuff, I look at the man across the counter. “If this goes all wrong, it’s your fault.”
He nods. As if we were best friends and he’d just given me advice at a time I needed it most.
“Something tells me it won’t,” he says. Smiles with his eyes.
“You got a backup plan? Because I don’t. I’m all out of plans.”
He shakes his head. “You won’t need one.”
“What’s your name?” I ask.
“Mick.” He extends his hand.
“Catherine.” I curiously eye him.
He’s not tall and not short, somewhere in the middle. He wears a maroon bow tie with a white button-up shirt. A stud in his nose with bright blue eyes.
“Thank you, Mick. I really hope you’re right.”
He nods. Mick leans over to look at Luke. “Dude, don’t fuck this up, okay?”
Luke almost laughs, but I can tell he’s heartbroken, too. I can tell because when he smiles, it isn’t from his heart; it’s a mask that he wears to hide things he doesn’t want others to see. I just have to have enough trust to take the chance.
Mick grabs two cards from underneath the counter. “Room 201 and 202.” He hands them to Luke.
“Thank you,” Luke says.
We walk toward the door, and Luke holds it open for me. His car is parked just off the hotel lobby. We grab our things and quietly make it up to the second floor on the outside of the hotel, as all the doors face the middle with outside access.
The Light We See Page 23