Souvenirs of Starling Falls

“We sort of are, though. Keep in mind, neither of us is working right now.”

Everything stopped. The refrigerator was open and Tom’s hand had just closed around a bottle of beer. And then that bottle was cracking down on the edge of the kitchen table and he was screaming in my face, “I’m working! I’m working!”

The bottle was in his hand, with jagged pieces of it on the table and the floor. Glass and beer were everywhere.

He’s going to kill me with that bottle, I thought. The dogs were right beside us, and Muffinseed gave a warning bark that sounded hollow and far away. I thought Quiet, Muffinseed. Save yourself. Save Hopscotch. Don’t worry about me.

“You don’t take me seriously, but they do,” Tom said. He pointed what remained of the broken bottle in the direction of Barnaby and Priscilla’s house, but not exactly. A sudden urge to giggle came over me, but I fought it off. I thought it would be hilarious to give his arm a little push and say, “Their house is more that way, Mr. Hemingway.” If I had I suppose he might have killed me. That’s just the kind of moment it was.

The house suddenly felt very hot and smelled wretchedly musty. The ever-present tinge of mouse pee, which I didn’t usually notice any longer, suddenly became stifling. The too-high, too-dark corners of the room seemed to be receding. I didn’t know what to say or do next, so I did nothing but stand there and shut my mouth. Everything changed that night. I’d never before kept my mouth shut out of fear.

We stood there for a while. Breathing. Calming down. As if we were recovering from some normal activity we’d gone through together, like sex or a morning run. I don’t know what Tom was thinking, but in my head, along with concerns about the dogs being scared, was the sad realization that I’d become one of those women they’re always trying to save with signs in restroom stalls.

Chapter 7

That night Tom slept on one of the couches and I slept in our bedroom. I woke up early the next morning and he was sitting on the edge of the bed.

“I’m so sorry,” he said. His voice was shaky. Had he been crying? Actual tears? Tom sometimes got sputtery and pouty, but he very rarely cried.

I didn’t know what to say. I couldn’t say, “It’s okay,” because it wasn’t. “I think we need to get out of here for a little while,” I said instead.

He put his hand on my shoulder and squeezed it gently, looking relieved that I was talking to him. “Sure, we could do that,” he said.

“We could go camping and bring the dogs,” I suggested. “Then we won’t have to plan anything or board them.”

“Yeah, that sounds nice. You don’t think it’s too cold out?” he asked.

“It never used to be. We used to camp in any kind of weather. Let’s be fun and spontaneous again.”

“Ha,” he said.

“You can still write as much as you need to while we’re away,” I added, in case he thought I was being disrespectful to his writerly dreams by even suggesting we take a vacation. “Why don’t we leave tomorrow?”

“Let’s do it,” he said, nodding. “Can I lie down by you?”

“Okay,” I said.

He crawled into bed and wrapped his arms around me. He buried his face in my neck. After a few minutes he detangled himself from me a bit and asked, “Maybe we should leave the day after tomorrow instead? We made those plans to have dinner with Barnaby and Priscilla.” He must have felt me stiffen at that because he said, “Never mind. They’ll understand. I’ll let them know. Where do you want to go?”

“Anywhere. Anywhere but here,” I said softly. It was early. We could work out the details later.

“Someplace new or someplace we’ve been before?” he asked.

“You choose,” I said. “Anywhere you’d like.” Anything to get us away from this huge, daunting, never-ending project.

“I’ll do some research today.” He kissed my shoulder and we dozed off like that, wrapped up in each other’s arms.

When I woke up hours later, Tom was outside, packing the car with our camping gear. Standing out there with the sunshine on his face, he looked more like the guy I used to know and love than he had in months.

“So! We’re taking off today?” I asked.

He nodded. “If that’s okay with you.”

“Sure. I’ll cancel Hopscotch’s appointment.”

“Are you okay with this?”

“Totally. I’m excited. Did you pick a direction for us?” I asked him.