“Helen, I strongly suggest that you leave in the morning. And when you’re driving back to Decatur, know what you’ve done here tonight...to our family, to your daughter. She’s not you.”
“And how are you going to support her, Brandon? How are you going to make this work?”
“I’ve got it all covered.” Natalie’s arms were hooked so tightly around his waist that he initially lost a little air. “I’ve managed to secure a job. A good one. In a place just far enough for us to get our own identity again. Natalie will never have to worry about money again.”
NATALIE WATCHED HER FAMILY LEAVE FROM THE UPSTAIRS WINDOW IN THEIR BEDROOM. He kissed each of the women goodbye, apologized for their brief stay, then glowered at Helen, who managed to mutter through another apology, promising to call when they’d returned to Georgia safely.
He watched the car pull out of the driveway, then shut the front door slowly, breathing almost easily again, in spite of the episode of insomnia he experienced the night before, promising his wife that he’d stay up to watch her sleep and keep her safe. He turned toward the kitchen to find Natalie, standing in the middle of their staircase with nothing more than one of his old UGA t-shirts on. She was grinning, though dark circles created half-moons under her hooded eyes. “Come to bed. Let’s watch movies...then have sex...then nap...then have sex again...then go to a real birthday dinner.”
He sighed. “Baby, we’re moving to Portland.”
BIRDCAGE
“IT HAD ALL HAPPENED SO QUICKLY,” HE’D SAID. “One minute, Maya was calling the house to speak to you, and the next we got into a conversation about what she was doing and what I was doing. And at the time, I was searching the web for jobs. You were asleep and I didn’t want to bother you. Your sister asked me what I was looking for and I told her. Then, she mentioned some friends who moved out west a couple of years ago to start an agency of their own. And business has skyrocketed. I did the whole Skype, videoconferencing thing with a couple of the creatives over there and they loved me. Then I sent over some sample storyboards I had done in grad school. And...well...I accepted the over.”
The simplicity of his story and his comfort in telling it only angered her more, to the point where she simply stared at him, overwhelmed by a sense of betrayal. Next, he would spout out some declaration of love for her and their growing baby and a desperation for a secure future. Bullshit. He did this because he needed to assume control over her. They were secured by something that they not only wore on their left hands, but by something much bigger than them; a duty she’d established toward him a long time ago. Damn it. A number of angry expletives ran through her brain; so many, that if spoken aloud, would result in the kind of verbal backlash that only Brandon David Greene could produce. Throat burning with tears, she swallowed thickly and closed her eyes, reminding herself that they were in a public place, several onlookers and such, and she didn’t have nearly the amount of strength it took to reach across the table and strangle him. She also remembered the sacrifices he’d made for her over the years: anyone who was willing to put up with her or her mother, the Helen Marie Chandler, and still live to tell the tale, deserved some type of medal. After all, what did she expect when she decided to drop out of school? Stay in North Carolina? For what reason? They’d moved there for her; for her dreams, her livelihood. Didn’t he deserve a chance now?
Fear engulfed her, but she refused to show it. Even when he reached across the table and picked up her hand. But hell, who was she kidding? She’d been swimming in and out of varying moods for days now. She could feel a myriad of things between now and the time they’d actually leave. Why dwell?
The familiarity of his touch tempered her. She exhaled. “So, what exactly will you be doing?”
“Ads for websites, product labels and such.”
“And such?”
“Yes. I’ll be helping boss around meek little copywriters while the art directors tear me a new one for pressuring them to get their logos and illustrations done faster.”
“In Portland? As in Oregon?”
“Yes, baby. Art has life over there, you’ll see.”
“I could scream.”
He squeezed her hand. “Tallie.”
“Don’t you Tallie me. I had absolutely no say! What happened to being husband and wife?”
“We’re still that, baby.”
She snatched her hand out of his grasp. “No. This is equivalent to staring at your own dick in the mirror to make sure it’s still there. This had nothing to do with me. No matter how much you try and sell it to yourself.”
“Would you please give it a chance? For me?”
“I do everything for you. I’m sitting here aren’t I? I tell you what, Brandon Greene, this is not a marriage. I love you with everything I have, but this is not a marriage.”
They didn’t make love that night.
INSTEAD, SHE CAME TO BED LATER THAN HIM, HAVING WALKED HALF A MILE UP THEIR NEIGHBORHOOD STREET and back, just to get a sense of things. He didn’t think for one second that it would be wise to follow her; however, when she returned, he was sitting in the living room, waiting for her, arched back and uneasy, hands tightly clasped in his lap. He looked kind of beautiful in the silhouette of the moonlight, softening her just enough that a tear ran the length of her cheek. She walked over to him, placed her hands on his cheeks and drew a kiss from his lips. “I hate you so much.” She pressed her forehead into his.
“I know.”
“I’m scared, Brandy. Really scared.”
“I’m scared too, baby. But I’m here. We always work things out, don’t we?”
“Yes.” She smiled. “But it’s not just ‘us’ anymore.”
“Fair enough. But I promise that we’ll never have to worry about anything again. This is a brand new us.”
AND SHE WANTED TO BELIEVE IT. Within weeks, their entire house had been put away into boxes: pictures, memories and such. They’d rented a house in Kenton, near North Portland Harbor, with Mt. Hood as an ethereally white peak in the backdrop.
Wherever the hell that was.
Brandon was beside himself with excitement; but what did he know of roots? Hell, he hadn’t been home to New York in any steady sense, since he left there just before traveling down to Georgia to enjoy an all-paid soccer scholarship. But somewhere along the line, that fell through, pissing his parents off immensely. But did he come back home? No. He greatly enjoyed chasing after bottle-blond southern belles, drinking ice cold beer, attending football games, losing every sense of his identity in the process. She could only roll her eyes at the thought of it all.
The end was near. She could feel it keenly. Might as well drop to her knees, throw her head back and offer her opened mouth for the outpour.
IT WAS BETTER TO KEEP QUIET ABOUT THIS SORT OF THING. Nothing would really change what was occurring. And she had to be better about dealing with it.
She needed to be better for him.
Brandon was deadly quiet the entire cab ride to the airport. He sort of stared out the window, as if attempting to take a mental picture of it all. And she watched him, in an undetected way, behind the careful shielding of her brown aviator shades.
If he caught her, he would have questioned her, been more concerned with her thoughts than his own. And he needed this time to think; he needed this time inside his own head.
She instinctively placed her hand on this thigh. He looked down, grinned a little and covered her hand with his own. He then looked back out the window, released a belabored breath and murmured, “I know, baby, I know…”
And that was that.
Within a couple of hours they were boarding a plane to Portland. When he reached for her hand then, he refused to let go of it, as though some semblance of his resolve lied inside of her.
But she was trembling, like a helpless small animal, left on its own to die. What sort of comfort could she give him?
They had not exchanged more than a few words the entire morning, and they couldn’t even make love the night before. Exhausted minds made way for wary, languid bodies.
“I love you, Brandon David Greene,” she wanted to say. “Let’s make the most of this…let’s stand by each other no matter what…”
But she remained quiet. Instead, as the plane slowly taxied on the tarmac, she leaned over to him and pressed her brown lips into his jaw, savoring the taste of his skin, milking the small bout of intimacy for all it was worth. Slightly startled by the gesture, he accosted her face and brought her lips to his, kissing her gently. When she felt the warm, buzzing connection between her thighs, she knew then that they would be okay.
The plane took flight, she closed her eyes, and said goodbye.
WHEN THEY LANDED AGAIN, Brandon had to jostle her awake.
“Tal,” he murmured, nuzzling her cheek with the tip of his nose. “Wake, baby…we’re here…”
Yes, they were. She was still securely buckled in, the pilot was muttering something overhead, but she felt different. They felt different.
She looked at her husband. He smiled.
“You sure slept a long time,” he observed, reaching down below for her carryon bag beneath her seat.
“I guess I was tired…”
“Glad you got your rest,” he told her. “We still have to sign the lease, pick up our cars, and call the movers who are shipping our stuff…”
“Can’t it wait?” she asked. “I don’t want it to be real yet…”
“I start at the new firm in a couple of days, baby…we need to check into reality a little sooner than I’d like…”
Right. A moment of clarity struck Natalie with a fierce coldness, that caused her to dart her eyes in her husband’s direction. How could she forget that dinner with her mother and her sisters and him, where he ever so gallantly informed her of his new job and their move at the end of the month?
Did she really have a choice?
Yes, the money was better. Yes, he was creative and good at what he did. But why hadn’t he chosen to discuss it with her first? Why did he automatically decide that Portland was the better move for them?
Where exactly did her opinion fit in?
They shuffled down the aisle of the plane, and he stood behind her cautiously, carrying both of their bags.
“Problem, Tal?”
Damn it, he knew her far too well.
But she figured with the amount of history they shared between them, the use for secrets seemed pointless nowadays.
“No,” she answered curtly, nearly bumping into the older man ahead of her.
“You’re lying…”
“Absolutely not.”
“Very well,” he said. “Remember that it’s just us two out here…and I happen to be a very good listener.”
“I never forgot that,” she murmured. “Trust me.”
IN LESS THAN AN HOUR, they were in another cab, and the air was chilly. She instinctively wrapped her arms around herself, and gazed out the window.
Green…that’s all she could see really. An amalgamation of greens, and hazy summits off in the distance, and the smell of pine and old water. Murals covered exposed brick, the people looked differently.
She felt different again – a Georgia peach with honey brown skin and a snarky southern attitude, culturally obscured and displaced.
She released a heavy sigh and Brandon gazed in her direction. She milked his gazed for all it was worth, as some earthy acoustic music played from the cabbie’s radio.
“I love you,” he mouthed to her.
She smiled.
“For doing this,” he continued audibly.
What was it other than love that drove her to this? What was she if she wasn’t with Brandon? In the most unspoken terms, he completed her far more than any other person before him…or after him either.
But she steered away from thinking it, letting it absorb into her brain.
She couldn’t stand a life without him – it wouldn’t make sense.
She picked up his hand, laced his fingers around hers, and kissed each of his knuckles.
“Silly boy,” she murmured against his skin. “I go where you go…”
She then heard him release a heavy breath of relief.
She kept herself from admitting that up until that point, she’d had habitual dreams about leaving him in the middle of the night and starting over. But when she left him and quietly sauntered out of the house, she tumbled into a gray abyss, skin covered in a murky overcast of sorts, as if the mere audacity of her escape was ludicrous.
She’d awaken in a cold sweat, tearing at the collar of her tank top, as though she was desperately attempting to find her own heartbeat.
That was dramatic, even for her. Their silly cat-and-mouse, back and forth bullshit never really amounted to much. She loved the fact that the gambit normally ended with her splayed helplessly on her back and him well adjusted to the space between her thighs. He’d look down her, all earnest and shit, writhing beneath him, pretending as though she wasn’t completely enamored with the feel of his weight pressing down on her body.
She sighed at the thought, and reached for his hand again, the moment that they stepped out of the cab in front of the leasing office in Northwest Portland. She gazed upward – the sky had a blue haze, the light of the sun, fighting its way through thick, pallid low-hanging clouds.
Her husband sighed heavily and a smile appeared at the corner of his big mouth. He was the adventurous one – she didn’t worry about him. To Brandon, this was a step toward something better, a new life he’d created for her and the baby. Their baby. An unknown blurb in the center of her, that represented all that they were; their moments in time, their heartache, their fate, their love. He was the true visionary – he could see how their life would be together.
She, he and their little one.
Brandon pulled her close to him, and pressed his lips into her hair.
“I’m okay,” she said. “I’m okay, baby…”