forbid we have one of those, right?”
“I was simply asking if you were all right, I’m concerned about whatever the hell it is you’re doing up there with Caleb and—you know what—forget it, I should get going anyway, I’ve got things to do at home. I’ll stop by again tomorrow and—”
“Jill,” I heard myself say, my hand clutching the cell so hard it hurt, “I need…”
She waited, hopeful perhaps, that I might find the right words.
I hoped just as hard and right along with her, but they never came.
“I should go,” she said softly.
“I’ll be back soon as I can.”
“Be careful. Caleb, he’s sick, Derrick. He’s dangerous.”
“Caleb wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“But then you’re not a fly, are you?”
Sadly, this was the longest and most civil conversation I’d had with my wife in months. It was always somewhat easier talking on the phone, I suppose, can’t see the scars like you can up-close and personal, but you still hear and feel the pain you’ve inflicted on each other because you carry it with you always. I found myself longing for the days when we were still all right, when if I missed Jill I could find solace in the knowledge that it was always just a matter of time before I’d be back in her arms and safe in her love. Now she seemed lost to me across impossible distances, alive but beyond reach.
“How the hell did this happen?” I asked. “How did we get here?”
“We got tired.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I think we just got tired.”
“We didn’t come all this way to throw it out now, did we?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes it is.”
“ No , it isn’t.”
“I want to come home, Jill. Let me come home.”
“Derrick…”
“You really don’t want me back? Really ?”
“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
I turned away from the window and gave the storm my back. “OK.”
“I heard about the murders up there, you know,” she said rather abruptly. “They were all over the news. Do you think Caleb had something to do with them?”
“Of course not. For God’ sake, you’ve known Caleb almost as long as I—”
“So it’s just coincidence that you’re meeting him there, in Sheppard Beach. You honestly expect me to believe that?”
I’d always kept Jill away from all this, or thought I had. “Let me worry about Caleb. I thought we were talking about us.”
“We are,” she said evenly. “But that’s what you’ve never quite been able to grasp when it comes to him. When we’re talking about Caleb we’re talking about us too, it’s impossible not to. He’s a part of you just like I am.”
“No, not just like you are.”
“This infatuation you two have had all these years about the murders in town and The Ragman and all that foolishness from your grandfather’s old boogieman stories, none of which had anything to do with the rest, it’s morbid and strange and always has been. And Caleb, he’s been obsessed with this shit for years. There were nights you spoke with him on the phone for hours and that’s all he talked about, you told me so yourself. All this death and horror, it’s sick, Derrick. What’s he doing there? Is he some sort of murder groupie or something? He’s one of those freaks now, is that it?”
“He’s a junkie,” I told her. “And he’s probably dying.”
“Has he really gotten that bad?”
“Yes, he’s really gotten that bad.”
“Then maybe you should bring him home.”
I tried to fight it but smiled a little anyway. There she was, the woman I’d fallen in love with, the woman who brought home stray cats and lost dogs; who volunteered at soup kitchens and homeless shelters and was so sure she could change the world through one act of kindness and selflessness at a time. “We’ll see,” I said. “I need to find out what’s happening first and then make an assessment from there.”
We listened to each other breath a while.
“Do what you need to
“I was simply asking if you were all right, I’m concerned about whatever the hell it is you’re doing up there with Caleb and—you know what—forget it, I should get going anyway, I’ve got things to do at home. I’ll stop by again tomorrow and—”
“Jill,” I heard myself say, my hand clutching the cell so hard it hurt, “I need…”
She waited, hopeful perhaps, that I might find the right words.
I hoped just as hard and right along with her, but they never came.
“I should go,” she said softly.
“I’ll be back soon as I can.”
“Be careful. Caleb, he’s sick, Derrick. He’s dangerous.”
“Caleb wouldn’t hurt a fly.”
“But then you’re not a fly, are you?”
Sadly, this was the longest and most civil conversation I’d had with my wife in months. It was always somewhat easier talking on the phone, I suppose, can’t see the scars like you can up-close and personal, but you still hear and feel the pain you’ve inflicted on each other because you carry it with you always. I found myself longing for the days when we were still all right, when if I missed Jill I could find solace in the knowledge that it was always just a matter of time before I’d be back in her arms and safe in her love. Now she seemed lost to me across impossible distances, alive but beyond reach.
“How the hell did this happen?” I asked. “How did we get here?”
“We got tired.” Her voice caught in her throat. “I think we just got tired.”
“We didn’t come all this way to throw it out now, did we?”
“It’s not that easy.”
“Yes it is.”
“ No , it isn’t.”
“I want to come home, Jill. Let me come home.”
“Derrick…”
“You really don’t want me back? Really ?”
“I can’t do this right now. I’m sorry, I just can’t.”
I turned away from the window and gave the storm my back. “OK.”
“I heard about the murders up there, you know,” she said rather abruptly. “They were all over the news. Do you think Caleb had something to do with them?”
“Of course not. For God’ sake, you’ve known Caleb almost as long as I—”
“So it’s just coincidence that you’re meeting him there, in Sheppard Beach. You honestly expect me to believe that?”
I’d always kept Jill away from all this, or thought I had. “Let me worry about Caleb. I thought we were talking about us.”
“We are,” she said evenly. “But that’s what you’ve never quite been able to grasp when it comes to him. When we’re talking about Caleb we’re talking about us too, it’s impossible not to. He’s a part of you just like I am.”
“No, not just like you are.”
“This infatuation you two have had all these years about the murders in town and The Ragman and all that foolishness from your grandfather’s old boogieman stories, none of which had anything to do with the rest, it’s morbid and strange and always has been. And Caleb, he’s been obsessed with this shit for years. There were nights you spoke with him on the phone for hours and that’s all he talked about, you told me so yourself. All this death and horror, it’s sick, Derrick. What’s he doing there? Is he some sort of murder groupie or something? He’s one of those freaks now, is that it?”
“He’s a junkie,” I told her. “And he’s probably dying.”
“Has he really gotten that bad?”
“Yes, he’s really gotten that bad.”
“Then maybe you should bring him home.”
I tried to fight it but smiled a little anyway. There she was, the woman I’d fallen in love with, the woman who brought home stray cats and lost dogs; who volunteered at soup kitchens and homeless shelters and was so sure she could change the world through one act of kindness and selflessness at a time. “We’ll see,” I said. “I need to find out what’s happening first and then make an assessment from there.”
We listened to each other breath a while.
“Do what you need to
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