An American Marriage(83)

When Celestial opened my front door with her key and walked into the family room, she had changed her clothes, but I was still wearing the fight-filthy jeans from that terrible afternoon. Even before she got close enough for me to see her swollen eyes, I sensed the salt on her like you can on the beach. It wasn’t quite 1 a.m., night but also the next day.

“Hey,” she said, lifting my legs and sitting on the sofa. Setting my calves back on her lap, she added, “Merry Christmas.”

“I guess,” I said, handing her the square glass containing the last of my father’s scotch. As she swallowed it, I smelled Carlos in the fumes.

I inched closer to the back of the sofa and made room. “Lie down,” I said. “I don’t want to talk about this when I can’t feel you next to me.”

She shook her head and stood up. “I need to walk around.” She traveled the room like a ghost, aimless and trapped.

With effort, I pulled myself to a seated position. I’d taped my ribs, but it hurt with every breath. “So I take it that Roy is still alive?”

“Dre,” she said. Finding the place in the room farthest from me, she sat on the white carpet and crossed her legs. Her bare feet looked naked and cold. “He’s wrecked.”

“That doesn’t have anything to do with us.”

“There’s so much that you don’t know. Things people like us can’t even imagine.”

“Is that why you’re hiding in the corner? Celestial, what are you doing?” I beckoned to her. “Come here, girl. Talk to me.”

She returned to the sofa and we lay down. Celestial fitted herself against me, her forehead against mine.

“I married him for a reason,” she said. “You can never really unlove somebody. Maybe it changes shape, but it’s there.”

“You really believe that?”

“Dre, we have so much,” she said, “and he has nothing. Not even his mother. The whole time he was talking, my face was on fire, just like at Olive’s funeral. Her handprint stinging on my cheek, making sure I didn’t forget. It’s hot right now.” She reached for my hand. “Touch it.”

I nudged her away from me, suddenly irritated by her touch, by the scotch on her breath, even the scent of lavender on her neck. I didn’t want to cradle her talk about ghost slaps, dead mothers, and the right thing to do.

“Just go,” I said. “If you want leave me, just do it. Don’t try to make it supernatural. You are the one making this choice, Celestial. You.”

“You know what I mean, Dre. We’ve been lucky. We were born lucky. Roy’s starting from scratch. Less than scratch. You saw him trying to kill himself up under that tree. He wanted to crack his own skull.”

“Actually, I was the one he was trying to kill.”

“Dre,” she said. “You and me, we are just heartbroken. That’s it. Only heartbroken.”

“Maybe that’s it for you,” I said.

“Baby,” she said. “Can’t you see? Whatever I do to you, I am doing to myself.”

“Then don’t do it. You don’t have to.”

She shook her and said, “You didn’t see him. If you had seen him, I know you would agree with everything I’m saying.”

“I need you, Celestial,” I whispered. “All my life.”

She shifted so that we were touching again. When she closed her eyes, I felt the tickle of her lashes.

“I have to do this,” she said.

Celestial owed me nothing. A few months ago, this was the beauty of what we had. No debts. No trespasses. She said that love can change its shape, but for me at least, this is a lie. I kept my arms around her, my body aching and cramped. But I held her until muscles failed, because when I released her, she would be gone.





Roy


I woke up at a quarter past eleven and the clean air smelled like trees. Except for her hair, Celestial was my Georgia girl again. I stood up and she embraced me, spreading her fingers across my shoulders. Her skin was warm like a cup of cocoa.

“Merry Christmas, baby,” I said, just like Otis Redding.

“Merry Christmas,” she replied with a smile.

“With everything, I almost forgot about the holidays,” I said, wishing, too late, that I had used some of Olive’s money to buy Celestial a perfect gift, a big thing in a small package.

“Don’t be silly,” she said. “You’re safe. In one piece.”

She knew this wasn’t completely true. I was embarrassed remembering Christmas Eve, not the violence but my desperate confessions as she kept me awake to save my life. When I told her about the pear, she soothed me with a hymn, the same one she sang for Olive. I had forgotten the power of her voice, the way she scuffed you in order to buff you smooth. It made me think of Davina and her means of restoring a man. What would Celestial think if she knew how I had readied myself for this homecoming by breaking a gentle woman’s heart? It costs you to hurt people. But I supposed that Celestial knew that already.

“You know what I want for Christmas?” I said. “My two front teeth. Really just that bottom one.”

She wiggled away and went to the dresser wearing a slip that made her seem like a virgin. The first time I saw her wear white was our wedding day, and the last time had been the night when the door was kicked open.