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My father has the decency to actually sit there and take my rant before looking down at his lap. When he looks back up, there’s a quiet fury in his eyes, but not the indignant, spiteful kind. He’s feeling a passionate anger warm his blood because he knows I’m right. He’s finally realizing in this moment what a piece of shit he is.
“So close,” I shake my head at him, because I myself am still having trouble believing it. Even if Luna doesn’t want to stay married, I will not turn into this disappointment sitting across from me. “This is me forgiving you and saying goodbye once and for all. I wanted you to get a good look at that man I turned into, despite you.”
He sits stewing a few more seconds, taking in a few concentrated breaths and letting them out before responding in a voice much weaker than the one he spoke in just moments ago.
“So… you… you really did just come by to unload everything,” he states, already knowing the answer as if he’d asked.
“It wasn’t something I could do back then,” I tell him, referring to when I was just a kid. “You took my childhood, so I figured you could give me ten minutes.”
Ten minutes to take back my poweris the part I don’t tell him.
“Take back your power without pointing out how much he had over you in the first place,” Dr. Jeffries had said on the phone. “But remember, that taking back your power also means not letting your anger at him have control over you. Prove that to him and yourself, but don’t be afraid to be real.”
Feeling like I’ve achieved all I came to do, I tilt my chin up over at the guard. He nods and comes over, pulling the keys off his belt as he walks. I scoot my chair back and stand.
“I forgive you, Rick,” I say down to my father, “and I do hope you can make a better life for yourself one day. I’m just not going to have any part of it.”
I’m about to say more. I want to add on that I have a wife he’ll never meet, and one day we’ll have kids he’ll never push on the tire swing. But looking down at him, I know I’ve said enough. He’s heard everything loud and clear.
“Goodbye,” I finally tell him as I turn and walk out of the room without looking back.
* * *
Several daysafter that fateful visit with my father, I’m feeling clearer headed than I think I ever have in my life. I’d never considered it before because it never occurred to me, but I think I realize now that I’ve never learned what it’s like to feel level. I’ve always been full speed ahead or deep down in a rut, but for once, I feel like I’m moving steadily forward. Well… that is after I had a session with my therapist following that visit. Admittedly, I was a bit wired following that grim conversation with my dad, but Dr. Jeffries assured me that what I was experiencing was perfectly normal.
Normal. That’s a word I never thought I wanted to describe myself with. But it feels good, though I’m almost afraid to let that feeling get away from me. And while I’ve been missing Luna every minute of every day since the last time I saw her, I feel like in the last few days, it’s amplified. It’s as if cutting out that certain cancer in my life; the anger I’d been carrying around for so many years made more room for my love for her to grow even stronger.
As it stands, we’re still not divorced. I never did sign those papers, and she never pursued anything further. I’m not sure where that leaves us, but it damn sure gives me some hope.
I sit here at the kitchen island, drawing in my sketchbook with thoughts of her more visceral at the front of my mind than they’ve ever been. I feel anxious, but not in a nervous way. It’s more eager, like I want to see Luna so badly and show her how far I’ve come. She’s the one person I want to be proud of me, and happy for me, even if she decides not to live the rest of her life with me. I just want her to see. I’ve been biding my time, however, not knowing if rushing to see her is right just yet. I don’t know how long is too soon, or too much time.
Setting my pencil down, I sit back and take a sip of coffee while fiddling with the rings that dangle on my chain with my dog tags; the rings that once adorned Luna’s finger. Putting my mug down, I flip through the book, taking stock of what I’ve drawn lately. I’ve had some good inspiration for possible tattoos that I’ve marked down in here, and I’m thinking of transferring them to a bigger portfolio that can be sectioned off into themes like music, nature, fantasy, symbolism, and any others out there.
I slowly drop each page until I arrive back at the current one I’d been drawing on. My eyes scan over the lines and shading that make up a mane of dark hair, floating in the night breeze. A few of the strands shine with the reflection of moonlight being cast down by the crescent shape in the sky. My girl has her back to the viewer as she walks down towards the end of a wood planked dock that juts out in the middle of a lake of inky water. With nothing but a t-shirt on, one svelte leg leads in front of the other.
It’s beautiful. It’s an unexpected work that I’m really proud of, and though I drew it using only my usual dark pencil, I want to add a pop of color to this. Standing, I move over to the other side of the kitchen and shuffle through one of the spare drawers and retrieve a pack of colored pencils that I rarely use. Pulling out the purple, I resume my seat on the stool and get to work on the moon, giving it splotching and shading to give it that mottled look with the purple. After that, I move over to my girl, and with varying strokes, add some purple streaks to her tresses.
Feeling satisfied, I place the pencil down and survey my work, not knowing if I want to keep it private or share it with the world. I wonder for a moment what it would be like if more of the world knew Luna and her work, her expression, and her love of the color purple. That thought turns over in my mind as one gear in the back reminds me to add one more detail to the image. Picking the pencil back up, I etch the word MINE into the curve of the moon. The act immediately flashes back to how I felt finishing the same type of moon on Luna’s chest, and the way she smiled up at me. That feeling from that moment twirls together with the other thoughts I was having, and then… wham.
I have an idea. I know what I want to do… I just need to figure out how to do it.
48
KALEB
It goes without question that I’ve been feeling like the best version of myself, especially since the jail visit, and I’m ready to show it to Luna if she’s willing to see it. My therapist verified I didn’t have to lose everything about myself, and I wouldn’t be me if I weren’t a little impulsive. And I’m questioning how impulsive I’m even really being about this.
Ever since that lightbulb moment I had while drawing that epic picture a couple of weeks ago, I’ve been planning, talking to Jackson and West, looking at listings online, and writing – a fuck-ton of writing – and scribbling out, and crumpling papers to start again.
And then finally, a couple of days ago, everything came together. Everything that could give me a beautifully bright future with Luna, or a decent one for myself if she doesn’t join me. Either way, I’ve learned that life doesn’t have to be perfect to be damn good, and neither does a marriage. I put way too much pressure on Luna and our love story to heal me and make me all better when I came back stateside. We should’ve been healing each other. But we’re young and dumb, me more so than her, and we can learn together.
I walk into Donna’s Cafe, the breakfast and lunch hotspot on Main Street, and give the woman herself a cordial smile before ordering a black coffee and having a seat in one of the middle booths.
I’m only a couple sips into the hot liquid when I see West walk in the front door, the attached bells jangling to announce his presence.
He tips his chin up at me in greeting as he saunters over across the checkered linoleum and orders a coffee for himself from Donna as he sits.
We spend only a few seconds on small talk before getting down to it. Looks like neither one of us are bullshitters.
