This Close to Okay(7)

And all that should’ve kept her from taking Bridge to her house, but none of it did. She never did things like this, and she was leaning into that chaotic energy, eager to see what was waiting for her on the other side. The wide mouth of the world was opening up! Something was happening, something beyond her control. She’d been given the keys to the lion’s cage, and she was inside, petting it. Staring into its pale amber eyes.





BRIDGE




(Driving through the rain. Her car is clean, the radio off. There is light traffic, and Tallie looks both ways even when she has the green light.) “Let’s see…do you have any hobbies?” she asked him.

“This feels like small talk.”

“You’re right. Okay, big talk…after my divorce, I was so sad I didn’t know what to do. My world was smashed, and it felt like I was blurred out, too. Couldn’t see straight.”

“And now you feel better?”

“Most of the time, yes.”

(A fire engine’s siren screeches the quiet red. Tallie pulls over to let it pass. Her hand is flat on the stick shift. She double-checks the rearview mirror, leaning closer to the churning hurricane in her passenger seat.)





TALLIE




When Tallie’s house was built, the Fox Commons neighborhood was brand-new. A mixed-use community unlike anything else in Louisville. Most residents swapped their expensive cars for golf carts when they got home from work and used them to motor their children to the school playground or the walking trails at sunset, the fountain in the square, the amphitheater overlooking the fishing lake. There was a public pool, several tennis courts, two salons, and a building solely devoted to doctors’ offices—dermatologists, neurologists, allergists, pediatricians, internal medicine, plastic surgery. Residents had their choice of fine dining with plenty of outside seating, including Tallie’s favorite trattoria, Thai noodles, sushi, pizza, and an American bistro with the best burgers in town. There was also a pastel sweet shop where the gelato was made with local milk and an Irish pub lit up with enough lime-green bulbs to turn everyone into Elphaba from Wicked upon entering. Plans for two hotels—one leviathan, one boutique—had been drawn up. The grand-opening ribbon for six neat beige rows of condominiums had recently been cut with a pair of comically large scissors. Lionel was an investor, and he and his wife, Zora, had attended the ceremony, then stopped by Tallie’s for small-batch bourbon and homemade Kentucky jam cake afterward.





The steps leading to Tallie’s white-brick front porch were fringed with pumpkins—some orange, a few blued like skim milk. A fluffy wreath of orange-red-yellow-brown leaves hung on the wide yellow front door. On one wicker porch chair, there was a polka-dotted canvas pillow with the word HOCUS printed on it. On the other, POCUS. The welcome mat read HELLO in loopy black cursive on the stiff hay-colored brush.

“Um, I could make dinner. Are you hungry?” she asked him after they’d gotten inside.

Her house was immaculate because the night before, she’d dusted, swept the floors, beat the rugs outside. Was it her hormones? Perimenopause? She felt like nesting and had decided to bring Bridge home like he was one of her rescue cats.

Usually her two cats were skittish around new people, but they were curious about Bridge and sauntered around the living room with their tails up and hooked.

“The marmalade one is Jim, and the black one is Pam,” she said.

“Like from The Office.”

“Exactly.”

In their short amount of time together they’d already gotten in the habit of ping-ponging their questions and answers. She’d ask him a question, and he’d ignore it completely, only to answer three questions later, both of them remembering where they left off. He was easy to like. He’d put his backpack at his feet and taken his jacket off. Tallie took it from him, hung it on the hook in the laundry room so it could drip.

“I could help cook. I’ll eat,” he said, sitting on the couch.

“Great! Okay. That’s what we’ll do.” She went to her bedroom and returned with some dry clothes. “You can put these on,” she said, handing them to him. “And I’ll go to the bedroom and change, too. Then we’ll make dinner.”





Tallie closed and locked her bedroom door and put her ear against it, listening for him. Listening for what? Anything. She slid onto the floor and got the papers from her pockets. Opened the first one. He had standard man’s handwriting—small printing, almost cursive. She looked at the bottom to see if it was signed. No. But at the top, a name.

Christine.

My dear bright Christine, my love and life. My world went dark when you left. You are my whole heart. I am broken and empty without you. What else is left for me to do? I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I miss you. I’m so sorry for everything. Please don’t be mad at me. I love you.

I love you

so

much

God.

Dammit.

Christine.



Tallie put her ear to the door to listen again. Nothing. She refolded the first letter, opened the other piece of paper. No name at the bottom. But at the top.

Brenna, my sunshine. It’s dark now.

Please don’t be mad at me.

I love you