2. I can’t drown my demons, they know how to swim
2
I can’t drown my demons, they know how to swim
Moth
T hankfully, the service was quick.
They didn’t ask me to speak, and I was glad. I would have, of course, but I didn’t have the slightest idea what to say. I probably would have made a fool of myself, or maybe I would have just stood up and passed out.
Sheriff Banner gave the eulogy, and I’m glad. He did an amazing job. It’s what Dad would have wanted. In the back of my mind, all I could imagine was what Dad would have said if he had been here, and he would have been proud.
Well, technically, he was here. He was just lying in a pine box.
My stomach did a nauseating flip-flop at the thought, and I had to force myself to look away.
“He was a good man,” Sheriff Banner said, gently striking the podium with his fist. I could hear his voice cracking, and when I looked back at him, tears were streaming down his face. “He took care of us. All of us. ”
He backed away from the podium, and Fire Chief Watchman embraced him. They exchanged a few words before the pastor made his way up, speaking softly. He was giving directions to the cemetery as if we didn’t already know, but I wasn’t listening.
Sheriff Banner’s words were stuck in my head and stuck in my throat, and the tears came faster.
He took care of us.
He did. A lot of the cadets and even some firefighters and medics called him ‘Dad’. He had a sort of paternal air around him, and that never faded. Except it was gone now.
It was gone, because he was gone now.
Who would take care of me?
I had nobody. I was alone.
I looked over at Barrett, mouth open to speak, but when I saw the tears sliding into the stubble along his jaw, I shut my mouth with a snap.
I couldn’t make this about me now.
I sat there for a long while, watching everyone file out. I didn’t want to be lost in the madness just yet. I wasn’t sure I could stand even if I wanted to. Barrett sat patiently beside me, reaching over and placing a loving hand across my knee. Once the room was empty, I forced myself to stand up, my legs shaking. I reached out to grab the back of the pew, not trusting my wobbly knees.
I carefully placed one foot in front of the other, making my way to the doors. Tommy stood at the door, holding it open. I thanked him as I passed, unsteady as my heels made the transition from stone to gravel. I managed to stay upright as I stumbled to the car. Once I’d sat down, I finally allowed myself to breathe .
Once, twice, and then again.
My head was swimming.
I wanted to break down, but I couldn’t do it here. I couldn’t do it in front of all these people. Call it ‘Officer’s Daughter syndrome’ or whatever, but I’d never been comfortable showing my emotions in front of people. Even Barrett had only seen me break down once, maybe twice.
“Want me to drive?” Barrett asked, sliding into the passenger seat.
“Nope,” I said, pulling the keys out of my purse and feeding them into the ignition. “I’m good.”
I threw the car into reverse and zoomed out of the parking lot. The procession was already well down the road, and it was only maybe a mile to the cemetery. I pulled in just as the pallbearers were walking up to the hearse. I killed the engine and hurried out of the car, stumbling and trying not to fall as I made my way to the front of the line.
I was his daughter. I should be front and center.
The funeral director opened the hatch, and five men moved into place without a word. Tommy, Sheriff Banner, Dale Watchman, Brad Coleman, and Carl Lee. Weren’t there supposed to be six? What was going on? Was I expected to—
Sheriff Banner turned to me as if he could read my mind.
“My son, Hudson, was supposed to be here,” he explained, sighing. “But he’s in bed with a fever. He wanted to be here so bad, but he just—”
“I’ll do it,” Barrett spoke up beside me, and I was choked with tears again .
The Sheriff’s words from earlier rang in my head as I turned away, moving towards the chairs set up around the gravesite, draped in white with blue and black ribbons.
He took care of all of us.
It was dark by the time Barrett and I pulled out of the cemetery. We didn’t have to sit at the graveside for as long as we did, but something held me there. I had to watch them cover the casket. I had to watch the dirt cover the white wood and silver handles.
Why? To make sure they did it right? I wasn’t exactly sure, but something told me it was the right thing to do.
This time, when Barrett offered to drive, I let him. It helped to let go of the reins, even if just for a couple of minutes. I didn’t want to be strong anymore. I wanted to be a mess, and if there was ever a time it was warranted, it was now.
As we pulled down the long gravel road, I looked into the distance, gazing over the field and past the old barbed wire cow fence towards the house. There was a light in the distance, a small pinprick against the black velvet darkness that surrounded the rural fields.
“That’s weird,” Barrett said as we slowed to a crawl in front of the driveway. “Did we leave the porch light on?”
“I’m not sure,” I said honestly. “I do at home, so maybe I did, and I didn’t even notice? ”
Except I didn’t. I know I didn’t. I remembered every step I made walking out of that house this morning and flipping the light on hadn’t been one of them. Checking for my keys and phone, sure, but the light? Absolutely not.
We pulled up in front of the house, and Barrett killed the engine and handed me my keys. I’d connected them to my dad’s old rusty key ring this morning. It was easier to keep track of one set of keys instead of two.
“I have to get home,” Barrett sighed. “Gotta feed the dogs.” Barrett was a bit of an odd one, as far as gay men went. He liked to hunt, and so he had hunting dogs.
A gay cowboy.
I’m sure there was a Brokeback Mountain joke in me somewhere, but I didn’t have the energy.
“You gonna be okay?” Barrett asked, looking over at me. Even in the darkness and the dim glow from the porch light, I could see his eyes swimming with tears.
Say no, I thought to myself.
“Yeah. I’ll be fine,” is what came out of my mouth instead.
“You sure?”
I nodded. I didn’t trust my voice to lie again.
Leaning over, he gave me a quick hug and pushed open the driver’s side door. Stepping out into the darkness, he moved to his truck. I listened for his footsteps, and then the door opened and I jumped when it slammed closed. His headlight flashed across me just as I stepped out onto the gravel. With a wave, he disappeared down the driveway and was gone. Something in me wanted to call after him and beg him to stay, but I couldn’t do that .
Standing in the darkness, I could feel how alone I was. I had no one else on this earth. It was just me and the shadows, the warm summer breeze whispering through the tall, tufted grass and ghosting through the creaking branches of the old elm hanging over my head.
It wasn’t cold, not even close, but I shivered as I turned to the house, stepping up the groaning wooden stairs. I didn’t even notice anything was off until I reached out to open the old screen door.
Pinned to the rusty screen, a sheaf of paper fluttered in the breeze. I tore it off the door, ripping off the corner of the wrinkled paper. A silver hair clip had been stabbed through the paper and threaded through the wires, holding it in place. It was old, tarnished silver in the shape of a moth, its outstretched wings inlaid with silver and blue stones.
Were the stones real? Probably not. It was most likely cheap costume jewelry, but it was pretty nonetheless. I plucked it from the door, feeling the weight in my hands, and then slipped it down the front of my dress and into my bra.
Amelia liked to give me shit.
“It’s a bra, not a pocket!”
But she wasn’t here. I could do what I wanted.
I looked down at the letter, and the first thing I noticed was the handwriting. It was tight, spiky, and legible, leaning heavily to the right. It was written in heavy-handed black pen, and written quickly, judging by the random splotches of ink that bled through the page.
It was good to see you today .
You’ve grown so much that I almost didn’t recognize you.
Your eyes are so beautiful.
I hate to see you cry, Little Moth.
It was signed with a simple black heart, crossed out, as if as an afterthought.
What the fuck?
That was just a tiny bit creepy, but maybe I was overreacting. My dad had always said I was easily scared. Maybe it was just one of his cop buddies without proper social interaction skills. I folded it and shoved it into my purse, searching for the keys. I found them and plucked them out, but the door popped open before I’d even threaded them into the lock.
Now that was weird. I may have been unsure about the porch light, but I knew for a fact that I locked this damn door.
Pushing it open, I stood in the doorway, listening to the house talk around me. I heard the creaking as it settled, and the wind moving through the trees. I could hear the crickets chirping in the fields, and cicadas buzzing in the distance. The lone, mourning hoot of an owl echoed in some faraway tree in a neighboring field.
I didn’t hear footsteps or voices.
There was no one here. I was alone.
My shoulders slumped and I sighed.
Alone.
Pushing the door closed, I made sure to lock it this time. Tossing my purse and keys down on the table near the door, I kicked my pumps down the hallway, and they settled against the wall in the shadows. My feet ached as I flattened them to the hardwood, screaming and complaining about a long day in heels. Reaching behind my back, I found the zipper and pulled it down, the metallic hiss whispering in my ear as it slid down my shoulders and slumped to the ground at my feet. Arms wrapped around my shoulders, I moved up the stairs and stopped, listening again.
Nothing.
Sighing, I turned and made my way to the guest bedroom, where Barrett had taken my suitcases last night.
Once upon a time, it had been my childhood bedroom. Without me here to need it, my dad had repainted it and made it into a guest bedroom. I could still see my old Barbie pink paint peeking through the white he’d used to cover it.
As far as I knew, it had gone unused since I left for college. That was fine by me. It was here now that I needed it.
Curling up beneath the sheets, I allowed myself to feel for the first time since I’d gotten the news. The tears poured out of me like water from a faucet, and I fell asleep sniffling, with the moth pin pressed against my chest.