Page 41 of Embers

Of course I’ll try to stop it from happening, but I can see it coming—as irrevocable as storm clouds in the distance.

He’s going to break my heart again. It’s already a done deal.

* * *

It turns out that I don’t have a chance to think of something to say or try to change things. As soon as we get back to the cabin, Cal announces gruffly, “We’re getting low on chicken feed. I’m gonna head out to check that tractor store. I should be able to dig out some more from the rubble.”

I stare at him, surprised and briefly disoriented since we normally plan in advance for trips like that. Using the trails and back roads that are safest, it takes four hours to get to that old store. “What? Okay. Just give me a minute to change clothes.”

He shakes his head and makes a guttural sound.

“What does that mean?” My voice is slightly shrill, but I’m not sure how I can help it. “We always go places together.”

“Yeah, but there’s no reason to today. I’ll be back before dark. You’ll be fine.”

“I’m not worried about me. I’m worried about you. Traveling isn’t safe, and there’s no reason for you to do it a—”

“I’m goin’ alone this time. I need some space.”

It hurts. So badly. The pain of it shudders through me for several seconds—every bit as intense as my orgasms were earlier.

He needs space. From me.

He’s never asked for space from me before.

“I’m sorry, kid,” he mutters, evidently seeing some of my reaction on my face. “I won’t be gone long.”

He’ll be gone all day. I haven’t been away from him for so long in four years, but it wouldn’t be so traumatic if I didn’t know he was only taking the trip to get away from me.

I don’t say anything. Can’t say anything.

“I’ll be back before dark.” He turns away from me, grabbing his rifle and the pack he always takes with him when he travels. “Promise.”

And that’s it.

He walks out the door.

* * *

After my initial shock wears off, I’m angry with him for hours. White-hot rage. He’s running away. From me. From what he feels. From the guilt he can’t seem to shake. And he’s hurting me in the process.

It’s wrong. And I’m not okay with it.

I try to distract myself by doing some housecleaning. Other than our regular daily chores, there’s nothing else for me to do. I manage all right until midafternoon. I don’t let myself sit still. And I don’t let myself review everything that’s ever happened between Cal and me, imagining ways I could have said or done things differently to bring about a better outcome. I scrub the windows and floors and do all the dirty laundry from our trip.

I’m achingly lonely. It’s ridiculous how alone it is in this small, familiar space without Cal. But I don’t fall apart. I imagine shaking him senseless, but I still manage to hold it together.

But at dinnertime I start expecting him to come back.

Since I don’t have a clock, I can only estimate the passage of time based on the sun’s route in the sky, but I’m pretty good at that now. It’s been around eight hours since he left, which means he’ll have had time to drive there and back. Naturally, it will take some extra time at the ruins of the store. He’ll have to try to excavate old bags of chickenfeed from the rubble. But that shouldn’t take too much time. It will either be there or not.

So he could be coming back at any time.

I’m not hungry, but I make myself eat an egg and some canned pears for dinner. I go outside to watch the chickens for a while, mostly because I need a little company and they’re all I have available.

When the sun gets lower in the sky, I go inside, wash up, and read.

I try anyway.

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