Henry offers, “No, he bruised both of those,” watching the balcony.
Alice explains, “Max did a cartwheel, and tried to catch himself with his hand. Of course he couldn’t at that height. Two stories up, I’m surprised he didn’t hurt himself worse!” Her smile shifts to her husband. “We had a lot of fun, didn’t we, Henry?”
“We sure did.” he whispers, “Max was a fun kid,” turning to offer a quiet smile to his wife of forty-three years. “Ready to go?”
She clasps his arm, tears hovering in her eyes. Dried leaves and crunchy bark give way to footsteps and we don’t speak, all of us in our own worlds until we hug each other outside their car.
I wave as they drive away.
I haven’t seen him all morning. He disappeared after Henry bid me goodnight, and hasn’t shown himself since. But now that I know he was at My Market, eavesdropping, I’m sure I’m not alone now.
The need to reconnect, though, talk to him, is strong in my heart. It was painful those days of absence.
While Alice made eggs, and Henry talked about sports teams I know nothing about, but knew Max was enjoying, I secretly planned suggestions I’d offer him later for what we could do once we were alone again. I’m excited to hear what he thinks.
My first choice, inspired by his parents, is to take a road trip. Maybe go up to Maine. It’s been years since we last had lobsters on the water. He’ll love the view even if he can’t enjoy the food.
Or, if he preferred to stay here, I would enjoy that, too, because I’ve been hoping to explore the forest more, educate myself on the vegetation. My nagging interest is growing stronger.
I remember telling my team, “If you’re interested, you feel a spark. You’re compelled. That’s what we want. Find your curiosity. Poke around. When something interests you, follow that instinct because it will lead to fulfillment and even happiness.” It helped us target certain team members in specific areas they excelled at, because they cared. Productivity flourished. As is always the case when people are happy.
Am I happy?
Yes, I guess I am. Now that Max isn’t in his man cave anymore, thankfully. It’s good he got irritated by Jack because he showed himself and had to talk to me again. Plus, it gave me a chance to tell him, through telling Alice and Henry, that there is only one man for me.
Inside the cabin, I shut our old dark-wood door, my ponytail swinging as I spin around and smile to Max, wherever he is, “Well, that was awful!” From where I stand I scan the first level of our home.
Sunlight shines through the beautiful A-frame window, beams indicating the glass door is in desperate need of a wash, though. Another time.
Besides the windows, the cabin is quiet and clean. Alice wouldn’t hear of leaving a mess, bless her. Now it’s time for some fun.
My smile hovers, and I wait, but no Max.
I tease him, “I know you’re here,” and when he still doesn’t show, I remove my sweater, feeling warmer than I should.
The hours pass, each one more irritating than the last. An apple joins me on a single plate, methodically cut and chewed and cut and chewed and cut and chewed.
Why won’t he talk to me?
This is becoming a thing.
And I can’t let that happen.
I call out, “Max?” and even I hear a hint of sarcasm. I’m not the sarcastic type. He is.
What’s wrong with me?
I chew some more, loud crunching my company, until a thought dawns on me.
I grab the car keys and go.
Chapter 34
Max
Spent the last twenty-four hours thinking, feeling, running.
Traveled all around the area, from here in New Paltz to Gardiner to Accord and Kerkonkson, all the towns within Abby-distance. I traveled the forests, too, watched the turtles, the badgers, the foxes, the deer, avoided the snakes because they’re freaky. I scoured pretty much every inch of Minnewaska State Park hoping I’d scrape out an understanding of what this is. This unease. This knowing.
What is it?
Intuition? Instinct?
Ever since Lorna painted the picture I keep trying to unsee, I’ve been running in search of another solution. Couldn’t stay away long. When I felt her talking to Jack Mc-fucking-Caffrey — wish I could forget the Scottish fuck’s name — suddenly I flashed to My Market like I was pulled there, forced to watch her light up as she smiled at the Redwood-sized guy who was charming the pants off of her.
Bad term.
Her pants are staying on.
This is so painful!
Been running, but it won’t shut up. It was a whisper, then a voice like my own in normal conversation. Now it’s screaming that I’m not here to stay with my wife.
I’m here to help her move on.
Abby wipes her eyes, covering her tears with a smile. “Hey, handsome. You done playing hide and seek?”
I step into the light of our bedroom where she’s been sitting on the bed in a slip and robe that match her skin, no makeup, ready for bed, staring off, looking as sad as I feel.
“I was working some things out.”
Abby smiles, trying not to scare me off, “Without me?”
I’ve got no smile or reassurance to give her. “Without you.” I lower myself to the bed.
“Now, that's not exactly fair, is it?”
“Neither is my staying here.”
Abby's smile vanishes. “Neither is your leaving here!”
“Abs—”
“—No!” she cuts in, “I heard you tell your dad, you have nowhere else to go!”
I gently say, “That doesn't mean I should make you wait around for me.”
She laughs like that’s the most insane thing ever to reach her ears. “I’m not waiting around. I'm just here. I'm just—”
“—here,” I finish, motioning to our old bedroom where she sits alone, unless you count me.
Abby searches my eyes, my face, “There's nothing wrong with that, Max.”
I whisper, “Come on.”
“I don't care what other people want! I want you.”
“You seemed pretty happy flirting with that lumberjack guy.”
Abby reacts like I hit her. “I was just talking to him.”
I don’t want to say it, “You had that light in your eyes,” but I saw what I saw.
“I had no light in my eyes!”
“If anyone knows that light, it's me.”
Desperate, hardly able to speak, Abby insists, “I was just being nice!”
I lean in to tell her with all the love in my heart, “And you should be. You should be nice to men who like you and can hold you and make love to you—“
“—Oh God, you're killing me.”
“—and can grab your hands when you're about to fall off a cliff—“
“—I’m begging you—”
“—Hug his parents. Chop wood!”
Abby croaks, “Stop!”
“You should have a man who can be a man. I’m not a man anymore.” I reach out, tracing near her face, an inch beside her soft cheek. “I can never touch you again. Kiss you again. Feel your legs wrapped around me again.”