Page 43 of Heartless
By the time we finish talking, I feel more relaxed than I’ve felt in ages. She announces that she has to leave because she has to prepare for our board meeting early the next morning.
I walk her to her car, accept the hug that she gives me, and leave, too.
***
I’m wired and not ready to return home yet. I wasn’t ready to say goodbye to Sharla either. The conversation was good and light, the laughter easy and genuine. It reminded me of how things used to be between us.
I know that I should be heading home, but I’m not ready to go there just yet. Every day brings a new argument, a new reality, and a new heartbreak between Meadow and me.
The more that I think of home, all I can see is Meadow’s screwed-up face, and all I can hear is her screaming, “Get away from me.”
I drive for an hour and a half before I decide that I need to talk to someone. I aim the car in that direction putting more miles between myself and home than I have a right to.
I think about Sharla and wonder if she’s heading home to anyone. I don’t like it when my mind goes down those paths, but I can’t seem to help where my thoughts lead me these days.
Everywhere that I turn, I see black. My wife won’t let me help her, and she doesn’t trust me enough to open up to me anymore.
Our arguments are out of control and create a greater divide every time we have one. I miss her. I miss the talks that we used to have, the way that we loved one another, shared jokes and discussed our future. We debated on politics, finished each other’s sentences, and fed one another.
All of that is gone; a distant memory that I take out to remind myself that the woman I once shared a bed with is the same one who used to be my best friend. Now, the sex is cold and empty, and she barely participates.
I climb up the stairs of the old brick building and ring the buzzer. I ring it several more times before the door pulls open.
“You look like you got hit by a fucking MAC truck. Come in,” my cousin Shepherd groans.
“Thanks, Shep.”
“Want a beer?” he asks.
I nod. “Where’s Caleb?” I ask of his little boy who is usually always by his side.
“Asleep where all little boys should be at ten at night.”
“And Mak and the twins?”
“Chloe’s in the nursery sleeping peacefully. And Mak is asleep with Chrissy,” he mumbles. “She’s been colicky all week so keep it quiet.”
“I’m not the loud one. That’s you,” I snort.
“Looks like you’ve had a few already. You blasted?”
“Nah, wish I was.”
“So, I guess this is the part where you tell me what’s had your underwear twisted in a knot these last few weeks?” he asks, pulling a couple of beers from his refrigerator.
I drop down on the couch and prop my feet up on his table. He comes by and kicks them off before handing me a beer andthen going to the other side of the room to plop down in the recliner.
“You know Mak would kick both of our asses if she saw your feet on her table.”
“Yeah, I know.”
“So, what’s up? Awfully late for a visit.”
I sigh and contemplate if I want to share this or not. If there’s anyone that I can talk to, I know that it’s Shep. He’s the black sheep of the family and the surliest person that I know, but he’s also non-judgmental and the best person at holding secrets that I can think of.
I can’t continue to hold this inside of myself with no one to talk to. It’s driving me insane, and as much as I want to talk to Meadow, she’s shutting me out. I almost let it out to Sharla tonight, but I can’t betray my wife like that. Besides, I barely know Sharla anymore. She’s just easy to talk to, is all.
“Meadow was robbed and beaten at gunpoint,” I say.