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Light
Travis
NOT LONG BEFORE MY MOM DIED, I remember hanging onto her leg while she was washing dishes. Soft white sun beams cascaded into the kitchen window, creating a soft glow that tightly hugged her profile and clothes. The light highlighted the dust motes that fell around us.
Mom was taking her time, making sure the plates and pots didn’t clink together, humming a song that’s forever stuck in my head. The house was quiet, the only sounds were the water and suds gently sloshing against the dishes and her sweet song.
I’d tried my entire life to figure out the tune she’d always hummed around the house, but she must’ve just made it up because I’ve never heard anything like it since. The only place it existed now was in my memories. The most vivid from that day, the day I realized much later was the beginning of a sweet, slow goodbye.
All of my older brothers were at school since Trenton had started kindergarten. Being alone with Mom was the best part of my day.
I loved my brothers but having her all to myself was a luxury each of us only got to experience for a short time. I wasn’t sure if I had a feeling about what was coming, but I was acutely aware that time with her was fleeting.
Mom chuckled at how clingy I was, more than any of the other boys had been, not that she minded. It would be wishful thinking to believe her endless patience was because I was the baby and she knew that I was her last. Mom knew she was sick, and she was enjoying every moment of her life for as long as she had it.
Being loved by Abby reminded me of both of those things: feeling so calm, soft, and quiet, like when I was leaning against Mom in the kitchen, listening to her hum that beautiful song. And the unshakeable, unexplainable feeling—one I didn’t understand—that my time with her could end at any moment.
I knew Abby loved me. She’d said it countless times, but more importantly she showed me with her actions. Hell, even when she was pissed off at me it was for my own good. Only two women in my life had made me feel that way.
I couldn’t lose Abby. If that meant lying to the police, lying to my friends and family and the world, I would do it. I wasn’t the same person without her. With her, I was different … better.
My wife gave me purpose, finding new ways to love her and make her happy gave me something to look forward to. There was nothing and no one that made me feel more joy.
In that moment, waiting for her to answer why she’d really married me, my brain flipped through thousands of scenarios. If she said marrying me was to keep me out of jail, it wouldn’t change anything. I would still want to be her husband and still hold out hope that even though the situation moved the goal post, I would eventually make her believe that she’d made the right decision.
Some people might call me a selfish asshole, but she wouldn’t have done it if she didn’t love me. Timing was the issue, social constructs, but not love. If she alleviated my fears and said that yes, she’d wanted to marry me within the hour of the fire, would I believe her? Was I so sure of my suspicion that I’d consider it a lie? If she was lying, did that mean I couldn’t trust her?
The wheels were obviously spinning in Abby’s head, too, and she shifted in her seat next to me on the couch trying to maintain her rock-solid poker face.
When her features were smooth in a tense moment, she was hiding something. A part of me had a real problem starting out with secrets.
I was her husband; I’d changed to be better for both of us. My whole life was different because of her. I wanted her to trust me with the truth. But, at the end of the day, if the shoe were on the other foot and I was afraid she wouldn’t let me save her …? You bet your ass I’d lie. In a heartbeat. I’d lie through my fuckin’ teeth. Suddenly, I was angry at myself for asking the question.Do I really want to know?
Before I could take it back, she began to speak.
Chapter Three
White Lie
Abby
“TRAVIS,” I BEGAN, TOUCHING HISknee. “I married you because I’m in love with you.”
He hesitated. He didn’t want to be asking these questions, and I wished that he wouldn’t. Still, he couldn’t seem to stop himself.
“Is that the only reason?” As soon as the words came from his mouth, I watched him brace for whatever excruciating pain my answer would cause.
“No.”
His chest heaved as if all the air had been knocked out of him. An hour before, he was just beginning to accept that our weekend wasn’t a dream. A month before he would have trashed the apartment, unable to decipher hurt from rage.
I could see him fighting the urge to lash out at the closest inanimate object, even under the immense pain he was feeling. Seeing that conflict in every tiny twitch of his expression made me love him even more.
Travis stared at the floor as he spoke. “Abby, when I say I love you ... I didn't know until this moment that I would want something more than for you to be my wife.” His breath faltered, and he cleared the trembling from his voice. “The truth is … what is more important to me than anything, is for you to be happy. You didn’t have to do this if it’s not what you truly wanted.”
“Iamhappy. Today, I’m the happiest I’ve ever been. Tomorrow, I’ll be even happier. But your happiness is just as important to me, Travis, and,” I hesitated.
No matter how many ways I tried to explain, Travis wouldn’t understand. Eloping to Vegas to save him from prison meant more to me than deciding on a whim to be married at nineteen. Maybe it wasn’t as romantic as the random, impulsive proposal Travis thought it to be, but I had put action behind my feelings. To me, it was proof that my love for him transcended all else, but I couldn’t be sure Travis would see it that way.
