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I turned on the heels of my tattered garden sneakers and headed for the two-story home I’d been renovating to keep my hands busy and my thoughts occupied. I hardly knew what the hell I was doing, but it was coming along nicely. The property was in pretty good shape when I’d purchased it, but needed to be modernized. Everything was severely outdated.
Silence was the solution to the uncertainty that lingered between us as we walked the long distance. Neither of us said a word. Each other’s presence was enough for the moment. When we finally reached the house, I stood near the door and waited to be scanned in.
Red lights flashed across the screen of the device that monitored my vitals and determined whether it was safe for me to enter my home. It was the perfect system, which was why I’d paid to have it installed upon taking Lawe’s advice, but its methods of determination were agonizing at times. They were constant reminders of my inability to stabilize my emotions.
Every time it refused my entry due to an elevated heartbeat or blood pressure that was through the roof due to stress, it assured me I was still grieving. Its protection barriers were like little post-its, surrounding me, making sure I remembered the pain was still present, even on the days I felt a bit better. The system was trying to protect me from my enemies, but was serving as a reflection of my nightmare.
I stepped away for a brief second and began counting down from ten. By the time I reached eight, Mercer had grown inquisitive. .
“Everything good?”
I nodded, trying my damnedest not to lose count.
Six.
Five.
Four.
Three.
Two.
One.
I stepped forward and waited. The sound of the locks turning prompted me to continue forward, entering my home with Mercer on my heels. The cool breeze dried the dewiness of my skin as I walked through.
The custom bar I’d built with my bare hands was one of the most frequented features of the kitchen. It wasn’t filled with mixed or a massive selection of liquor. It was simple and spacious, housing the classics like Jack, Hennessy, and two different bourbons. I poured us both a glass of Hennessy—neat.
“To freedom.”
“To freedom,” Mercer repeated, our glasses clinking before touching the marbled countertop of the bar and being sipped.
I searched for words, trying to pull them out of the air to express my gratitude for this special reunion, but I found none. Over the last two years, my words were limited as if I didn’t have an expansive vocabulary that housed thousands and thousands of words. They’d all hidden in the corners and ridges of my brain, refusing to be rescued for conversational purposes.
“How are you, Malachi? Are you okay?”
A select few volunteered to get the job done, popping out and providing me with a prompt response.
“My wife is dead, Merc. I’ll never be okay.”
I tilted the glass again, finishing off the final sip. As I poured another glass, I could hear those tiny footsteps that kept my heart beating.
“Daddy. It’s Uncle Milo’s birthday. Can we make him a cake?”
Though she was just six months shy of three, Aussie’s brain was as complex and equipped as the average seven-year-old. With it being just the two of us, she was learning and growing at a rapid pace. She didn’t have peers to learn from. It was only me, her adult father, who didn’t talk like a toddler, walk like a toddler, communicate like a toddler, think like a toddler, or play like a toddler.
As a result, Aussie was a tiny ball of knowledge as it pertained to life, languages, gardening, and domestic skills. I wasn’t even remotely close to the teacher my wife would’ve been, which was why I felt like I was falling short in the educational realm of Aussie’s world. However, with time, I knew that would change as well.
Homeschool at two was her mother’s goal and part of her life’s plan for Aussie, but we hadn’t gotten there yet. I still had a little under six months to make it happen, and I would. I’d never let Anna down throughout our lives together, and I didn’t plan on starting now.
“It’s much too late, my love. The day has come.”
A growing pain in my chest forced me to set the empty glass down. I pulled the internal flesh of my lip between my teeth and pressured it until I tasted a portion of my body’s blood supply. I pushed the heap of air out of my nose, deflating my chest in the process. My heart had shriveled tremendously, making it difficult to believe it even needed as much space, anyway.
It’s much too late, my love. Anna’s voice repeated the words I’d spoken. Memories of the night I’d come home much too late and found her in a pool of her own blood caused me to clench my fists and close my eyes, waiting until they subsided.
“It looks like you could use a night with the boys,” Mercer suggested.
