Love Like This by Cynthia Newberry Martin

Author:Cynthia Newberry Martin [Martin, Cynthia Newberry]
Language: eng
Format: epub
Publisher: Vine Leaves Press
Published: 2023-04-03T22:00:00+00:00

Chapter 27

Angelina told Quen and Cara goodbye at the door, and when Will followed them out, she went up, getting in bed quickly, and turning off the light. When she heard Will come into the room, she didn’t move.

A little after midnight, with their windows open as they were almost every day of the year, she heard the rain begin. It had been a while, and she’d missed the rush of water, the release. She fought sleep, wanting to hear every splash, but the sound relaxed her and she slept. Later, in the early morning darkness, along with the rain, she heard the insistent wails of a train whistle. She turned on her back. Had she been dreaming? And then there was the whistle again, longer, a plea almost. She wondered what it would be like to go somewhere just as day was breaking, the rain slanting against the windows.

Even as she wondered, she knew she couldn’t leave. Will would never understand. If only she could love and leave.

The next thing she heard was a radio announcer blaring from Will’s alarm. Then the weight of him leaving the bed. She closed her eyes, thinking back to closing them the night before last in her closet.

Lying on the floor with the door locked had felt as if she were giving up. And perhaps she had for a bit. But when she heard his voice and responded, “leave me alone,” she knew she hadn’t, that she was just retreating in order to fill the well. In the early morning hours, she had opened the closet door as quietly as she could and tiptoed out of the bedroom, as she could hear Will tiptoeing out now on his way to the game. When the door clicked behind him, she rolled to the middle of the bed. She could not see the thing in the stone. She didn’t know where to cut. She didn’t know how to carve away what didn’t matter to get to what did.

Yesterday morning, she’d gone from her closet to the car, driving to the Dunkin’ Donuts out by the Interstate, pretending she was on a trip by herself. Perhaps she was pretending to be who she really was.

In the drive-thru, she’d ordered a half dozen hot, glazed donuts, a carton of milk, and the largest coffee they had. She’d pulled into a space in the parking lot and eaten three of the gooey donuts without a pause. Then she’d leaned back in her seat, the lard coating the inside of her mouth, the sky beginning to light a new day. What if she had no one to consider but herself? What if she had day after day to do only what she wanted when she wanted to do it?

She was selfish. To the bone.

She rolled over and kicked off the covers. She loved them all. She didn’t understand this craving to be by herself.

Her legs ached. She reached down and rubbed her calf. Yesterday she had spent hours at the gym, walking on the treadmill.

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