Savage

by Jade C. Jamison

  When I got to the door, I realized I didn’t have my purse, which meant I didn’t have my key. I tried the door anyway, but it was locked tight, just as I’d left it. I sighed and shook my head. “I could get us in there,” Kevin said.

  “No. There’s a hiding spot for a key in the backyard. When my kids were younger and would sometimes forget their key…their dad was sometimes in no shape to get up and answer the door, so I got one of those stupid fake rocks—you know, that are hollow and have a space for a key?—and put it by the shed steps in the back. They only used it once or twice, but enough that I was glad I’d done it. My parents knew about it too, just in case Darren called them when I was stuck at work and needed help.”

  He nodded his head, quiet and respectful, and I opened the gate to the backyard and then walked over to the shed. It took me a few moments, but I found the fake rock and, after playing with it for a few minutes to make it work, managed to fish out the key.

  The back door lock was the same as the front, and I steeled myself as I walked toward my house. Was I ready to walk in, to face the emotions, to be hammered once more by life? For surely, that was what I’d have to face…

  I gritted my teeth, turned the knob, and pushed on the door, ready to take the next step.

  Chapter Sixty-three

  “So Far Away” – Staind

  I WAS AS prepared emotionally as I could have been, but I hadn’t even considered the physical. We were barely in the house when the smell hit me. Old garbage. It might have been okay had the house been open. It also probably would have been all right if the house had been warm all summer and things had progressed; instead, winter had happened, and I had no doubt the house had been freezing, including the garbage in the trash. With no electricity to run the furnace, there was nothing to keep anything inside from getting cold enough to stop the process of spoiling. But now that things were getting warm, it was all freshly rotting.

  I nearly gagged. “My barrel out front is gone, but I have to do something with this.” I grabbed the trashcan and took it out back, setting it a few feet away from the house, hoping to avoid new fumes from drifting inside.

  Once back inside, I began opening windows. Kevin asked, “Want some help?”

  “Sure.” He opened the windows in the living room while I took care of the kitchen. When he came back in, he said, “Nice place. Own or rent?”

  Well, it wasn’t nice. It was plain and simple. It was humble, but it was home…and it was nice of him to say that. “Own.” There was still a lingering smell of rotting food, and I at first just thought it was because I’d just removed the trash, but I then realized the refrigerator also had food in it.

  Fortunately, I hadn’t had much in there…but enough that I had to fetch the trashcan and put a new liner in it, having placed the old one in the middle of the backyard. The refrigerator housed lettuce and other vegetables and fruits that had seen better days, as well as smelly hamburger, moldy cheese, and other green leftovers. There were also some TV dinners and microwaveable burritos in the freezer that were completely thawed and disgusting. I filled the sink, satisfied that at least I had running water, even if it was cold, and washed out the refrigerator while Kevin found a shovel and buried all the smelly garbage in the backyard. Then, in spite of the fact that it felt like Kevin and I were on different pages and part of me didn’t want to know, we sat down in my living room and talked.

  We had the curtains opened and enjoyed the natural light, but I located candles and my flashlight before sitting, because I didn’t want to have to try to find them when the light began to wane. We also found an unopened can of nuts, beef jerky, trail mix, and peanut butter in addition to the snacks Susana had packed for us. We’d eaten such strange meals over the past few months that those items almost felt like a gourmet meal.

  I could feel something unspoken hanging in the air, but I was afraid to ask…so I was happy talking about other things. Just after sitting down we got up again, because I decided to give him a small tour of my little three-bedroom house. My kids’ rooms were just like they’d left them back in late August before they’d headed to school. Kyleigh’s looked like a mixture of a girl reluctant to leave her childhood behind while at the same time yearning to be a woman. She had a collection of teddy bears, both large and small, poised in different areas of her room. If I had to guess, she’d chosen to keep them as a reminder of her father. Darren had constantly given Kyleigh new teddy bears at Christmas, birthdays, Easter, and anytime he had an excuse to. But she also had mementos of earlier times, like the preteen jewelry box she kept her earrings in and the kitten poster hanging on the wall. Her budding adult, though, preferred the posters of young movie actors she’d hung on her wall, along with a makeup mirror she’d left behind and ten pairs of shoes she thought she could live without while at school. Kevin smiled and said it reminded him of his daughter.

  Next, we went to Tanner’s room. Tanner was a self-professed nerd, and his room showed it. There were pieces of computers everywhere on his desk, dresser, and bookshelves—cases, motherboards, hard drives, and other components I could neither name nor recognize. He had posters in his room too, but they were all techie. The big one over the head of his bed was the periodic table. “Son?” Kevin asked, and I nodded. “Smart kid?” Another nod.

  “Top five percent of his class.”

  It was Kevin’s turn to nod, and we peeked in the last bedroom—mine. After not having been there for months, a couple of details jumped out at me. One was the wheelchair in the corner that I still hadn’t gotten rid of. I had no need for it anymore and, yet, there it remained. The cardboard boxes I’d packed last fall of my husband’s old clothes still sat there, painful reminders of a past I’d struggled to move away from.

  It was then that I admitted to myself that we never really move on from our past. Even when we don’t feel it as deeply, even when we can manage to let things go and continue with our lives, those memories will always be a part of us, having shaped us and changed us, for better or worse.

  Kevin must have known I was dealing with some heavy shit, because he didn’t say a word. He just moved on when I did.

  And then reality of it all set in. If he spent the night with me this night (something I wasn’t quite sure of yet), would we sleep in my bed? In the room I shared with my husband for all those years?

  Would that be okay?

  I showed him the bathroom and then I took him to the family room, the largest room in the house. It was also the room where my family had gathered the most—around movies, video and board games, and a fireplace we hadn’t used in so long, I couldn’t remember when.

  When we finally sat down, he talked to me about the pictures on the wall—a couple of my kids at various ages and then one of the four of us at the last family reunion we’d had, the last one before Darren couldn’t walk anymore. Tanner had just started high school and Kyleigh still had braces, but we looked so happy, smiling under the sun, and I choked back tears looking at that picture. I hadn’t known it then, but I had been happy…to some degree. There was no denying it. That smile was in my eyes, and I remembered that day like it was yesterday.

  As this day grew darker, we talked about how strange it was to be back home and our speculations about the future. We did not talk about our own futures. We didn’t talk about his home.

  We ate our odd little meal as my house grew dark.

  And it was almost strange when Kevin kissed me and I took him by the hand, leading him to my bedroom. I was glad it was dark, because then my memories couldn’t overwhelm me—at least not the ones in that room. Other memories, though, ones of the times Kevin and I had spent together, made it hard for me to get lost in the moment, because something in the back of my mind told me this was it. This was our last time together.

  But instead of then enjoying it, appreciating it, I mourned it.

  At least I was home again where I could maybe figure out once more how to grow numb.

  Chapter Sixty-four

>   Past

  “Gone Away” – The Offspring

  IF DARREN’S FATHER hadn’t been in the hospital, having just survived a heart attack, his parents would have been there. Instead, his mother had called me and asked what I needed.

  I had no answer.

  My parents were there, as were some of our friends and my brother. But, when it came down to it, I was alone. My mom was keeping the kids busy in the kitchen baking cookies…

  And there I was, sitting on the bed next to my husband. The sweet hospice lady had just talked to me outside an hour earlier. She told me he was fighting, hanging on, when really he just needed to let go. She told me he was probably staying for me and the kids…and I needed to let him know it was okay to leave this earth.

  “He can hear you. He’ll know what you’re saying,” she told me. Her voice was compassionate, and all it did was make the tears stream harder down my face. “He’s hanging on for you and your kids. He needs to know it’s okay to go.”

  So I sat there on the edge of the bed, holding his hand, touching it to my lips as the tears kept falling, and moisture continued to bead up at the bottom of my nose so I had to keep wiping it with a tissue. “Honey…” I forced out of my mouth, containing a sob. I don’t know why I’d tried so hard not to cry. If he really could hear me, then he’d know it hurt. He’d know just from the sound of my voice, because he’d known me for so long. “You’ve lived a long, brave life. You’ve fought the good fight…but it’s all right. We love you and we miss you, but it’s okay to go. It’s okay to just let go and…I’ll see you on the other side.”

  I cried harder then, because I didn’t know that I believed in another side, but I did believe that he’d suffered enough. Wanting him to stay was only selfish. The kids understood that better than I, and I fucking hated the universe then. I hated it. It had robbed me of happiness, of my youth. Darren and I were supposed to grow old together, travel the world together in our twilight years.

  Instead, I was here telling him goodbye.

  It was easy to urge him to let go, but I didn’t know how to teach it to myself.

  Chapter Sixty-five

  Present

  “Boulevard of Broken Dreams” – Green Day

  THE NEXT MORNING, I should have been ecstatic, waking up in my own bed, the sun streaming through the part in the drapes, feeling warmth in my bones.

  The reason I wasn’t feeling happy, though, was the very reason why I should have been. Kevin lay beside me, facing the wall away from me, and I had been resting my face on the smooth skin of his back. I’d been thinking, though, and pondering and wondering.

  Deep in my bones, I knew.

  He was leaving.

  I didn’t care if he was leaving Winchester. This town was just a place, and I knew a lot of kids who grew up here couldn’t wait to shake the dust off their feet and never look back. I understood how growing up in the same place all your life made you hate that home, and I wouldn’t hold that against him. He’d built a life away from here, and this was no longer his home. Now that his mother had passed, it held even less for him than before.

  I understood that and had no problems accepting that. But he wasn’t just leaving Winchester.

  No. He was leaving me.

  As much as it hurt, I understood that too. On the mountain, we were ports in a storm, common allies whose bodies just so happened to fit together nicely. Sexual attraction had just been a bonus…but now we were free in this scary new world, and his life didn’t fit well with mine.

  I got that.

  I’d just always had a hard time letting go.

  I knew that was why I’d awakened with my husband’s death heavy on my mind. It wasn’t only being surrounded by persistent memories of him here and it wasn’t a feeling of guilt at having another man in our bed, either. He and I had talked about various what ifs long before he died, and he had said more than once that my life after him had his blessings, no matter the path I would choose.

  Those conversations had wrenched my gut, and I’d often begged him not to talk about that. I hadn’t wanted to think of life without him, beyond him, after him…because, when it came down to it, I’d have to deal with it eventually. I didn’t want to have to deal with it before it had even happened. I had too much of life that demanded my focus in the here and now—living paycheck to paycheck, working jobs that required more short-term attention than long-term planning, striving to cherish the moments with my kids before they inevitably left my nest. Looking to the future had always been daunting, especially because mine had always looked just as bleak as my present.

  Today was no different.

  I sat up and draped my legs over the side of the bed, stretching my arms. His leaving was inevitable, that I knew, but there was no sense rushing it. I’d let him sleep until he awoke himself, and I knew it wouldn’t be long anyway. We’d grown accustomed to waking with the sun.

  Then again, he’d had a restless night. I thought he’d had a hard time falling asleep, because his tossing and turning had continued to awaken me. Maybe his unspoken decision was gnawing at him. It had probably made sleep difficult all night.

  I stood finally and tried to find joy in the fact that, for the first time in months, I could wear my own damn clothes again. I walked across the room to the dresser and opened one of the middle drawers that held my t-shirts. I grabbed one of the black ones and slipped it on, grateful that the weather was pleasant and I wouldn’t have to bundle up again for quite a while. Then I opened the drawer underneath it and pulled out a pair of my jeans. I slid them on and realized right away that they didn’t fit anymore. They were too big. A year ago, that would have been great news. Now, I wondered what I could do, because it wasn’t like I could just go shopping anymore.

  Maybe Susana had solutions for clothing as well. It wouldn’t have surprised me one bit.

  In the meantime, though, I knew I had saved a couple of pairs for that elusive someday when I’d lose the extra pounds I’d gained when I’d quit smoking. I never would have guessed the kind of events that would have led to the moment where I could put them on again. I dug to the bottom of the drawer and first grabbed the pair that I’d always believed in the back of my mind I’d probably never wear again but that I kept just in case.

  They fit.

  I walked out of my room, experiencing such an odd sensation. It was almost like déjà vu but not quite. Everything felt surreal, and I thought if I could just go back to my old routines, I might find some comfort. But I couldn’t make coffee because there was no electricity, and I wasn’t going to shower in cold water.

  There was one thing I could do that hadn’t been altered by this new environment.

  I could sit on my damn porch.

  So I did. I picked up my plastic chair out of the dirt, returning it to the spot where I used to sit, dusting it off with my hands before sitting down. My house faced south, and I was able to watch the brilliant reds streak the clouds just above the horizon as the sun made its way up the sky, and the robins sang a beautiful song of spring while it happened. And I told myself, At least I have this. Fucking life could take away my husband, my kids, and even everything I’d known. It was going to take away a man who’d become my companion, my rock, and I had to deal with it, but by God, I had this. Nothing and no one could take away the sunrise and the birds and the cool stillness of the air this late March morning.

  Nothing.

  Not even Kevin Savage.

  I heard him call my name as he walked through the house, but before I could even call back, he saw the open front door and opened the screen just as I said, “Out here.”

  He came outside and looked to the east. “Wow.”

  “Yeah. Pretty spectacular.” I looked up at him. “Did you want to sit down?”

  “No. I’m fine.” He leaned against the wall next to my chair, and we watched the fading colors together, not saying another word until the sun was fully above the horizon and the sky was blue, the clouds white, no hint of
the vivid display of color visible anymore.

  We went inside, both thirsty, and poured water from the tap. Boy, I could get used to that again really fast.

  I couldn’t ask the question I wanted to, needed to, but I could ask something else, something that I knew would get me close to the truth. “Do you want to go to the college later for breakfast—or brunch or whatever they call it nowadays?”

  Yep. There it was. I saw it cross his face plain as day—regret, possibly apprehension, maybe even a little sadness, but it was there, and it was something he wanted to say even less than I wanted to hear it.

  That was a little comfort, at least.

  He swallowed, staring at that glass of water for a few seconds before forcing his eyes to make contact with mine. “Nina…about that. I—I’ve got to head north to find my family.”

  His family. His mother was gone and she’d been here. To the best of my knowledge, the only other family he had was his wife (ex or not) and his daughter. If he’d meant his daughter, he would have said that. By saying his family, I knew exactly what he meant.

  It hurt, but I wasn’t completely surprised. I was able to put it all together. When he’d stepped inside Larry’s truck last fall, he’d had every intention of trying to work things out with his wife when he got home. Circumstances had waylaid those plans, though, and I’d been a convenient companion to cling to. Ah, I couldn’t be bitter about it. He too had been what I’d needed while we were there…but that realization didn’t help it hurt less.

  I nodded, blinking back those goddamn tears that threatened to overrun me. That was how I knew the old numbness had faded—over the past week, I’d cried more than I had in years; the past month, double that. Was it being pulled out of everything I knew that had shaken it out of me?