Fallout

“You better run!” Scott roared.

Teighlor raced toward the steps. She swung herself around the baluster as a half-drunk whiskey bottle exploded against the wall above her head raining glass and that pungent liquid down on her. She stopped and looked into the glazed over eyes of the pathetic excuse for a man as he swayed on his feet. She saw nothing left in them for her.

“Go to hell,” she commanded through clenched teeth, then stormed up the steps and into the bedroom. She locked the door behind her, even though she knew he wasn’t coming after her again. Not after the last time, which, incidentally was supposed to be the “last time” he ever put his hands on her. She thought she made that point very clear. Maybe the business end of her Remington .44 magnum didn’t send a strong enough message before. “Maybe,” she thought as she crossed the room and threw open the closet door, “I need to send him a stronger one.”

Teighlor marched across the room, flung open the closet door, and opened the gun safe on the top shelf. She gripped the chrome revolver in her hand and released the cylinder checking to be sure it’s loaded, then snapped it back into place behind the barrel.

As she turned back with the gun in her hand she heard the unmistakable roar of Scott’s V-twin Harley Davidson starting up. She paused and looked out the window in time to see Scott zoom down the driveway and into the night.

As he rode away she felt a weight of the world lift off of her as if it were attached to a rope that shot up over a pulley and attached itself to his rear bumper. She could finally breathe again. She knew he wouldn’t be back that night. She knew about Tanya and at this point she was more than obliged to let Scott become her problem.

Normally this would be the moment when the tears would start flowing, after the adrenaline wears off, but nothing came this time. There was just a vast emptiness inside of her. Like a flower her love for Scott bloomed glorious and wild, but it wilted in the shadows of neglect and fell back to the earth as dust to be scattered by the winds. Now there is only barrenness as there had been before.

Teighlor lay the gun on the bed and walked into the bathroom. Now the tears came when she saw the state that she was in - what she had become. She tried to see through the glass in her hair and the bruised lip, she wanted to see past the black eye and her torn blouse to find some remnant of the girl in the picture smiling intensely from her countertop, the Grand Canyon gracing the background. That girl was strong, adventurous, full of life and laughter with the world at her doorstep. That girl never would’ve dreamed of owning a gun, let alone becoming a marksman level shooter of one. That girl would’ve left Scott when he backhanded her that first night in the parking lot after dinner. She would’ve gotten her own ride home and never seen Scott again. But this girl didn’t do that. This girl got into Scott’s car, and now this girl is standing there staring at that girl wondering where she went.

Well, one thing was clear to Teighlor in that moment - she wanted that girl back, “But how?” she asked herself. Looking at the disheveled mess staring back at her in the mirror, she figured a bath would be a good start. 

After carefully picking and combing out the glass from her hair and tending to some minor scrapes, Teighlor picked the gun off of the bed and returned it to the safe.

She turned to take a step toward her bathrobe and as she reached for it her foot caught the vacuum hose sending her sprawling into the hanging clothes which she immediately bear-hugged. This caused her body to swing around before her momentum pulled the clothes from their hangers sending her crashing backward into a stack of boxes. An immediate avalanche buried her in a rubble of papers, cardboard, and fabric.

Facing the ridiculousness of the situation all she could do was start laughing. She laughed so much that she cried, and afterward she found herself feeling a whole lot better, despite looking like she just experienced and earthquake.

She removed the clutter that she was under and did her best to try and tidy up the mess throwing papers haphazardly into boxes and hanging the clothes back on hangers. She finally located her bathrobe and decided that was enough housekeeping for now. She gripped the terrycloth and yanked it causing the box on top to tumble over and out fell a smaller box with the word, “Treasures” embossed boldly across the top in gold foil. 

A wave of emotion swept over her as she swiftly lifted it from the floor. She hadn’t seen this box in years. Scott made her put it away when she caught him snooping through it one night. 

“What’s this?” he demanded as she walked into their bedroom. He was sitting on the bed next to the opened box. Several letters had been taken out, one of which Scott held in his extended hand.

They nearly broke off their engagement that night over his jealousy. Teighlor could not fathom how he could get so upset over a few silly love letters from years ago. They agreed that she could keep the box, but it would have to stay buried in their storage stuff. She almost forgot that it even existed.

Seeing those sparkling letters was like seeing the face of a long lost dear friend after an extended departure. She hurried it over to the bed and set it near the center. The box was made of finished red oak with black iron hinges and clasps. She opened the clasps and lifted the lid to reveal the artifacts of her life. A small tray filled with a hodgepodge of knickknacks rested inside the top. She carefully removed it and set it beside the box. Underneath were dozens and dozens of letters, post cards, and other paper items.

She began with the tray, inspecting each item carefully and placing it aside. A brooch from her grandmother, a pen her uncle made for her, a plastic ring from her middle school boyfriend, and handfuls of other things were soon carefully laid out in neat rows below her pillows. Each item she inspected connected her to a place and time in her life. She revisited in her mind where and who she had been at each interval. ‘That girl’ started to seem nearer to the surface than she had thought just moments ago. 

The tray now empty, she shifted her attention to the letters. She pulled them out and sorted them into piles. She had several from her family (mostly her mother), a few from friends, some that looked more official, and a little pile from old flames. Those she would read last.

She emptied a magazine basket from the bathroom and put the letters inside. She pulled out as many candles as she could find and placed them around the bathtub which was soon full of warm sudsy water. 

For an indeterminable amount of time she wandered in her mind through a zigzagged timeline of her life. She recalled moments of joy and devotion, sadness and isolation, and everything in between. Prior words of encouragement my her mother spoke through time connecting her with the strength she had proven is within her. Her grandfather reminded her that there is Someone out there who is greater than her situation and she found herself praying again. Something that seemed so easy to do she wondered why she hadn’t for so long. Old boyfriends reminded her that she was also a treasure, a few of them making her blush.

As she neared the end of the basket she pulled out one of the last cards and almost dropped it in the tub as her heart skipped a beat. It was an anniversary card given to her by Jarod, the last guy she dated before marrying Scott. All of a sudden a flood of memories poured from some deep recess in her mind, a place she must have vaulted off. She recalled Jarod’s smile and the easy way he had about him, how he made her feel safe, how he seemed to know how she was feeling and always found the right words to put her mind at ease. Her heart began to sink like a cinder block to the bottom of the tub when she thought of the last time she saw him, eyes red and wet as she walked out the door. How foolish she now felt leaving a man so devoted as he was for a promotion and the big city life. She hated her job now and would give just about anything to find that simple life again. Reluctantly she opened the card.

“My Sweetest Love,” it began.

“I knew from the moment I saw you that I wanted to spend the rest of my life with you. There will be no other woman after you, you have my heart completely and forever. Whatever the future holds, wherever life takes you, just know that my love for you will be as strong when you read this card as it is now as I write it. I am truly, completely, and eternally yours.

J.”

She sat there stunned. She didn’t know what to think. On the one hand, she realized now more than ever that she loved Jarod and that she always did, she just didn’t let herself know it. But on the other hand, it’s been seven years since she broke his heart. A better description would be to say that she surgically removed his heart, showed it to him, played a game of soccer with it, then ran it over with the team bus. There is no way, after what she did to him, that he could still feel the way he felt for her then. Besides, he has most certainly moved on and inserting myself into the picture again in his life could only do damage. 

She got out of the tub and put on her robe. For the next hour or so reread the card numerous times while she debated to herself whether or not to call Jarod’s old number (one of the few she had memorized primarily because it was so easy). _“What if he did move on but that relationship didn’t work out either? What if he is still just as lonely as I am and all I have to do is reach out and we could have something special again? No, even more special because now I would be 100% invested in him like he was with me? What if I’m getting my hopes up and he’s married with three kids and tells me to go sit on bee hive?_

She finally convinced herself that in the end not knowing was not something she was not eager to add to her list of current torments, so she pulled out her phone. Before calling she decided it would be best for her to come up with something to say. 

“Hey it’s Teighlor. Listen, sorry for totally destroying you earlier, but I thought we might get a cup of coffee or something?” seemed a little forward, not to mention dismissive. She finally settled on, “How are you?”

It took another fifteen minutes to build the final amount of courage necessary to actually dial Jarod’s number. The phone shook as she carefully tapped out the digits, then hit “dial.” The phone rang a few times. She was expecting his voicemail when that old familiar voice said, “Hello?” She cleared her throat.

“Jarod?” There was a long pause. “I knew this was a bad idea!” she thought. Then his voice returned. She sensed a change in it when he eagerly, almost excitedly asked, “Teighlor? Is that you?” She tried to hide the emotion in her voice, but it was no use.

“Jarod...” is all that came out in a cracked voice.

“Oh my God, I can’t believe you called me! Is everything alright? Where are you?” She could hear the genuine concern in his voice. That love was still there.

She composed herself enough to muster, “Jarod, I have to tell you I’m sorry, and that I love you and that I nev-”

He abruptly cut her off - “I love you too!”

They talked for hours as Jarod drove through the night and into the morning. They talked about their past, they talked about their future, they talked about nothing at all, and as Jarod pulled into her driveway Teighlor ran out to meet him. He sprang from the car and she collapsed into his arms.

“I missed you,” he said.