27. Marley
TWENTY-SEVEN
MARLEY
What sounds like an explosion wakes us abruptly the next morning. In fact, it sounds so much like an explosion that I’m flat on the floor before I really know what’s going on. Incredibly, I’ve managed to take cover and not do further damage to my ankle.
Bennett, who is still in bed, leans over the edge to look down at me, eyebrows nearly touching his hairline. “You alright?”
I look up after I’ve collected myself. “What the hell was that?”
“My best guess is that they’re here to work on the road. Do you always hide on the floor when there’s a loud noise?”
I stand gingerly. “Sometimes if you don’t do that, you can be crushed by rubble or falling bodies.” I say it so absentmindedly that at first I don’t know why Bennett is looking at me like I just casually said that I regularly feed children to lions at the zoo. “What?”
“Rubble or falling bodies?”
“I mean, it’s not exactly an everyday thing, more like a once-in-a-blue-moon thing, but I have seen a blue moon, so best to be prepared.” I bury myself under the covers again and wrap myself as best I can around Bennett’s body. “I guess this really does mean the countdown is on.”
“Countdowns are usually for things I look forward to. Let’s not call it that,” he says, brushing the hair from my face. He leaves his hand on my cheek and just looks at me. I like the way he looks at me when we’re in bed. I like the way he looks at me while we’re eating breakfast or walking with the dogs. I like the way he looks at me while we’re catching our breaths after an impromptu make-out session on the porch swing. But mostly, I love the way he looks at me and just smiles. I can only hope he likes the way I look at him too. “You know you don’t have to go straight away, right?”
I know that. Every single look he gives me tells me that. “Careful, I may decide to never leave.” Deep down I know there is part of me that loves the idea of never leaving. The part that wants to stay here and frolic every single day with Bennett and his pack. I want to be part of it. But I’ve also realized now that I’m not done doing what I do. I’m not done sharing stories for the people who can’t share them on their own. I’m not done chasing that one image that may actually put an end to the suffering of an entire country of people. I’m simply not done, and until I am, there is no way I can be the kind of person Bennett needs. I am not someone a single person can rely on to be there when they cannot be. Not yet anyway. I’ve got some more things to figure out. Some more questions I’d never considered asking until a few days ago.
When Bennett kisses me it’s all-consuming, and when he makes love to me it’s slow and passionate, and in a way it feels like the start of a goodbye.
Two hours later I’m wrapped around Bennett’s back, standing at the fence of a cow pasture. About ten minutes after Bennett had called Karl to tell him they were fixing the road, Nancy called back and invited us over for breakfast. I could almost hear her telling Karl off for not thinking of it himself. We had still been in bed, but the thought of not having to listen to the noise all morning outweighed being naked together. I know there are two meanings behind the invite. One, the noise could trigger Bennett’s headaches, and two, the sound of digging and dumping would turn into the ticking of a clock. I managed to make it halfway to the Hores’ on my own before Bennett insisted that I, in his words, “ride him the rest of the way.”
After we arrived he let me down, and I leaned against the top rail of the fence. He takes this opportunity to wrap himself around me from behind and rests his chin lightly on top of my head. Bennett has done his best to stay in physical contact with me since we heard the road work begin, and I am soaking up every touch he’s offering me. I’m usually not so open to being the focus of someone’s attention. I spend so much of my life trying to be invisible, and yet that has been impossible with him. And I’m giddy at the thought of not being invisible to him. The girls are near the fence and I point at them, introducing them to Bennett.
“The one with the black around her eye is Clarice, and the other one is Glenda.”
“We meet again, Clarice,” Bennett says, doing his best Hannibal Lecter impression, which is truly terrible but makes me laugh. When I look up at Bennett, he’s looking down at me, and for a minute we just stand there like that. Sophie calls us from the porch announcing that breakfast is ready, and Bennett lets me make my way to the house slowly as he does one last check on the dogs. Not that he has to worry about them much; after a three-kilometer walk, they’re pretty happy to sprawl out around the lawn .
I sent Izzy and Nellie a text before we left, asking if they’d be able to come get me tomorrow. I insisted I’d need two people so someone could also drive my car back to my place. Izzy had asked if I really wanted to be picked up or if I was doing it for her sake. Apparently, she thinks I want to get back to the real world just so she stops worrying about me. Go-with-the-flow Nellie just said sure, whatever I needed.
“So,” Karl says, cutting into a sausage, “Marley, I bet your family and friends will be happy to have you home.” I nod back and pretend I don’t notice the daggers both Nancy and Sophie are sending his way.
“My friends will be for sure.”
“Oh? No family?”
I would probably be annoyed by the intrusive question if I wasn’t so humored by the looks the man’s family is giving him. Either he’s used to them and doesn’t care anymore, or he’s completely oblivious.
“Well,” I say, putting my fork down and glancing quickly at Bennett. I feel like he’s told me everything about his family or lack thereof and all he’s gotten out of me is that I’m not sure I love my job anymore. “No, I have a family. We just aren’t that close.”
“Falling out?” Karl asks.
Nancy grinds out an irritated “Karl!”
“No, not really. We’ve never really been a close group.”
“Hmmm,” I hear Sophie say.
“What?” I ask, a tad more defensively than I mean to.
“Nothing, it’s just you referred to your family as a group and not a family. It’s interesting, that’s all.” Then she looks a bit embarrassed. “Sorry. Sociology nerd.”
“It’s okay. I mean, we… When I was younger…” I look over at Bennett again and he frowns at me.
“You don’t owe anyone an explanation, Mar,” he says, shortening my name for the first time and making my stupid heart do the stupid cancan.
“It’s okay, I just don’t really talk about them. Not because there’s some deep dark secret or trauma or anything. We just aren’t close, and that’s basically the beginning and the end of it. I didn’t grow up with parents who wanted to know how my day was or who I had a crush on. My parents had kids because they felt like they had to.” I pick my fork up again and begin absently playing with my scrambled eggs. “I think it took until I was about twenty-three to see true love, and it was in the form of grief. This mother, wailing beside the body of her dead adult son.” I look up at Bennett and hold his gaze. “I remember thinking that my mom would probably feel relieved at that moment. Free from one of the two kids, grateful to have one less burden.”
Everyone at the table is silent. Sophie’s mug is frozen on the way to her mouth, and she’s staring at me like I’m the saddest person she’s ever encountered. “I’m okay, though. Honestly, you can all stop looking at me like that.”
Bennett’s eyes slide over to Sophie, and I see him swallow. “Soph, are you showing the girls this year, or is your cousin?”
Sophie is still looking at me, but she does at least go along with the change in subject. “We both are actually. I’ll take Glenda, and she’ll show Clarice.”
“And when are you showing again?” Bennett asks.
“November fifteenth, and then if we finish in the top three, we do an exhibition thing on the night of the seventeenth. They think a bunch of horse snobs want to watch cows walk around a show ring for some reason, but I’d rather be in there than not.”
“Sorry,” I cut in, “I should have asked the other day, what exactly is it you do with them?”
“The cows are judged on a number of factors. Confirmation, so, how they’re built, how they move, their mammary system.” That gets my attention.
“So essentially they are judged on the size of their boobs?”
“Udder quality is pretty essential in dairy cows,” Karl says matter-of-factly.
“I guess that makes sense.”
“In fact,” Sophie jumps in, “things that are deemed less attractive in humans tend to be more desirable in cows.”
I squint at her. “How so?”
“For instance, veining. The veining isn’t necessarily a desirable trait in human breasts but in cows…” She mimes a chef’s kiss, and I laugh.
“No offense, but this all sounds absolutely ridiculous.”
“When you think about it,” Sophie continues, “human beauty contests are ridiculous. They set impossible standards for millions, leading to numerous mental and physical disorders while pitting people against one another. These shows help people produce animals that meet the ideal standards for a multitude of reasons. Unlike with humans, there is a purpose beyond vanity and capitalism.”
“I’m not sure vegans would agree with you about that,” I say, opting to take a sip of coffee instead of a bite of sausage.
“I’m not sure vegans would agree with me about a lot of stuff, but I’m always willing to hear them out.”
“And just for the record, I think human beauty contests are just as ridiculous. More so, actually.”
“Well, we can agree on that at least.” Sophie toasts me with her coffee.
“So Marley, how’s the ankle?” Nancy asks.
“It’s doing a lot better. Thank goodness for Bennett. He’s far more diligent with icing it and wrapping it than I am.”
“She very well could have undone all that diligent icing this morning. You should have seen her jump out of be—” He stops abruptly, seeming to remember he’s talking to other people, and very nosy other people to boot.
Nancy smacks the table and holds her hand out to Karl. “That’ll be twenty bucks, Mr. Hore.”
“Goddammit, woman,” he grumbles, leaning back to reach into his pocket for his wallet. He pulls out a twenty and smacks it into her hand.
Sophie has gone red, and she’s staring at her plate while my gaze is bouncing around the table before finally landing on Bennett who looks like he’s about to puke. His eyes slide to mine, and he winces before mouthing, “I’m so sorry.”
“Why?” I say aloud. “I’m not.” I go back to eating like nothing happened.
The rest of breakfast is full of laughter, and I keep having to remind myself that this is not going to be a regular occurrence. I kind of hate the little voice of reason that keeps popping up, but I can’t let myself get too comfortable with everything, or maybe with the idea of everything. Because frankly I’ve never been more comfortable in my life than I have been this week, with a sprained ankle, surrounded by strangers.
“Marley, can I send you home with some sauce?” Nancy asks as she gets up to start clearing the table.
“Sit down, dearest,” Karl says, jumping up and pulling the plates from her hand. “We’ve had this she-cooks-I-clean routine for nearly twenty-five years, and she always manages to forget about it when we’ve got company. Makes me look like a lazy husband.”
I love them. “I bet a lot of people wish they had that kind of arrangement.”
“Well, there’s a lot that people aren’t good at,” Karl says gruffly. “But wishing for things is not one of them.”
“I say you don’t give her any sauce, Mom,” Sophie says, helping her dad by grabbing the serving dishes. “That way if she wants some, she has to come back for a visit.”
“That’s bribery,” I gasp.
“Some say bribery.” She shrugs. “Some would call it strategy.” I do not miss the wink she gives Bennett as she walks out of the room.
I swing my head in his direction, but he ignores me and takes a sip of his coffee.
“Don’t worry, Marley,” Nancy says, patting my hand, “I’ll give you enough to tide you over until you have time to come back to see us.” She looks at Bennett when she says “us” and I feel like they’re all in cahoots. “Just for the sake of curiosity, when do you think that might be?”
I laugh nervously because when I leave here I don’t actually plan on coming back. When I leave, I need to walk away and not look back.
“Oh,” I say, dabbing my mouth with the corner of my napkin. “I don’t know. Between recovering and then getting back out there, it could be a whole year.” The look on Nancy’s face doesn’t hold a candle to the one on Bennett’s. “It’s not that I don’t want to,” I lie, or I think I lie. At this point, I’m not sure if it’s them or me I’m lying to. “My job is sporadic. I could end up embedded for weeks at a time with a group somewhere. And then there could be something else that pops up, and I’ve got to go cover that.” I feel a bit frantic at the moment. Like I’m trying to tell them that it’s not them, it’s me, but it all just sounds like I’m making excuses. “I’m nomadic by nature, I guess.”
“She’s got a very important job, Nancy,” Bennett says, and he makes it clear that it is my job and not my passion with the way he says the word. Then he stands and takes his mug to the kitchen, leaving Nancy and me alone at the table.
We sit there silently for a minute before she speaks. “He knows you can’t stay. Deep down he knows that. But I think part of him wishes you would.”
“Part of me wishes the same, it’s just—”
“Not who you are,” Nancy finishes my sentence for me, and I nod.
“No… not yet anyway. He’s such a good man,” I say quietly because for some reason I don’t want him to hear me. “If I could change who I was instantly for one person, it would be him. Which is insane to say after, what, four days?”
Nancy is shaking her head. “One of the very best things about Bennett Morgan is that he never expects anyone to change for him. Don’t let him know you would because that would break his heart. If he likes you, it’s for who you are right now and not for who you could be.”
“I’ve never had a relationship. Honestly, life with him is as close as I’ve ever gotten to one.”
“So you just threw yourself into the deep end, eh?”
“I mean, it wasn’t intentional. Everything just kind of happened.”
“And besides never having had a relationship, and your job taking you away from the people you care about for indeterminate amounts of time, what’s holding you back from attempting one?”
“I have never really wanted one before. I didn’t see the point and… what I do is dangerous,” I begin, admitting out loud what I have never said before. “Where I go could be where I stay. Every kiss, text, photograph, wave, it could be my last. I’m not afraid in the field. And the thought of people I leave behind being afraid when I don’t feels wrong. Like I’m leaving them to worry about me. When in reality, when I’m working I don’t think of anyone else. I barely even think about myself.”
Nancy takes my hand between hers. “Marley, I hate to tell you this, but you never coming back here won’t keep us from worrying about you. And for the record, you don’t need to be going into the middle of a war zone in order for something to be your last. That’s why we need to hold onto the things that make us happy while we can. Hell, Karl could drop dead of a heart attack standing in the kitchen, and our last interaction would be about the dishes. That’s life, kiddo. No matter what you do for a living, life is un-fucking-predictable.”
Have I mentioned how much I love Nancy Hore? But at this moment when she’s making all the sense in the world, I absolutely despise her.