A small shard pricked my finger and pulled me out of my fugue. I stood up and placed the chunks of porcelain in my hand on the kitchen table and wandered the house, taking stock of the life I had here.
Things.
Furniture. Clothes. Cars. A house. A few acquaintances. This was all an illusion. As if I tried to grasp any one of them they would slip through my fingers like sand. I didn't really have a life. I didn't miss any of these things when Bobby and I were up at the lake. It was as if I had picked out the pieces for my real life dollhouse. And I felt as empty and fake as the doll in the center of it all.
My family, they would always be my family. I could only hope they would forgive my decision if I left Rory for his brother. But it wasn’t them who would live with the consequences of the choice I faced. I couldn't keep choosing this life to please them while I suffered.
I didn't have a say when Bobby slipped away seven years ago. When he never visited. When he left to war. When he vanished from the face of the earth. But I had a say now.
If I did this, I would be starting over. Everything I owned was shared with Rory. I had a modest trust fund, virtually untouched. That, and my clothes, was all I could take with me. Someday, I would split my parent's estate with my sister, but who knew if that would change when they found out about my behavior. It didn't matter though. Between Bobby and me, we would find a way.
I slipped on some clothing and grabbed my purse and car keys. I needed air. The house was stifling. I drove aimlessly at first, down the main street, through county highways, until I decided I had a destination: the lake house.
It was only an hour away from home, and the afternoon sun was still at its peak when I arrived. I kicked off my shoes and dug my toes into the cool grass, closed my eyes, took a lungful of crisp air, and smiled.
Freedom.
This is what it would be like. We would experience the world together, and then we would get a little cottage by the lake or the beach, and we would read to each other, or sing, or dance. And one day, our little babies would lumber around in their diapers, and then they would grow enough to run and jump into the water, and then they would one day fall in love and have their hearts broken and patched back together and then we would watch them as they watched their little ones. Bobby and I would witness it all, experiencing every smile and tear with them. This was the life we were meant to have.
And if I wanted to try something new, Bobby would encourage it, not tell me what I wanted. And if Bobby wanted to open up a shop to build furniture or fix cars, I would encourage him. Because all we wanted was what the other wanted.
In the walls of my house with Rory, my dreams had been strangled for so long, it made it impossible for me to imagine anything else. But out here, on the tree swing, watching the birds sweep over the water, feeling the breeze curl along my neck, I could smell the scents of my new life. Taste its flavors. Feel it tickle my skin.
When I stripped it all away, it wasn't so hard to imagine leaving.
After watching the bright afternoon sun dull from the swing, I made my way into the house. I went upstairs to the bedroom and into the jewelry box. I slipped off the ring I had worn for seven years as an impostor and returned it to its rightful place: my mother-in-law's jewelry box. Next to it was a small box that held just one item. I opened it and slipped the pale apricot-colored gem on my finger. I found an empty large cardboard box and carried it to the living room, where I grabbed the record player and a few records, including the Billie Holliday vinyl.
I threw in my favorite overalls and loaded my car. I wasn't sure when I'd ever see this place again.
I thought about whether I should say goodbye to Barbie as I drove home, but I decided against it. I was going to slip out as quietly as I could. I smiled to myself as I drove back to visions of me showing up at Bobby's motel door, my suitcase by my side. How he would embrace me and we would cry tears of joy. How I would tell him I was sorry I ever doubted us. And that I was sure. I would bet everything on us.
I had stopped at a diner by the lake to eat supper when a sharp and sudden hunger demanded to be addressed. It was nice being anonymous. I listened to music from the mini jukebox at the table while I scarfed down a shake and burger. I felt unburdened, like someone released from captivity.
The rest of the ride home only made me more anxious to pack my bags and get to Bobby. I thought about stopping by his way first, but then figured it would save time and an extra trip to call him once I got home and have him pick me up. I'd be leaving the car Rory bought me behind. Bobby's truck was way more fun.
Summer construction slowed me down so that I pulled up to my driveway at about eight-thirty. Once I pulled in, something struck me as odd. I could see from the front windows that the light in the kitchen was on. I was certain I hadn't left any lights on when I left, but then again I was in a daze so I shrugged it off. If Rory was home, his car would be in the driveway.
I unlocked the front door, and instantly heard frantic footsteps in the kitchen.
“Rory? Rory? Is that you?” I asked as I flicked on a lamp in the living room. The off-white carpet had a trail of soiled footsteps leading into the kitchen. I tiptoed towards the sounds, when Rory popped his head out. A trail of blood flowed down his temple and his shirt and pants had tears in them. He was covered in mud and soaking wet, his hands covered in red scrapes.
The pieces of broken dishes were still on the table where I had left them.
“Where have you been?” he asked in a drunken panic.
“I was—Rory, what happened? I thought you were in Illinois?”
“Turn off the light!” he demanded.
“Why?”
“Just do it!”
I remained still.
Rory let over to the lamp and shut it off. He reeked of liquor and pond water.
“I need you to take me to my car,” he ordered.
“For what? What happened? Did you crash it? You're bleeding. We should go to the hospital. You might need stitches.”
“No, no hospital,” he protested.
“You're plastered, Rory. I'm sure neither the car or you is in condition for a trip.”
“Lilly, I don't have time for this. You need to drive me to my car.”
“I'm not going anywhere with you until you explain to me what is going on.”
“Goddammit, just do what I ask!” he snapped.
I crossed my arms and shook my head in disgust. “No. Really. I am done. I can't do this anymore. The lying. The bickering. You take care of yourself. I have had it!”
“You're not going anywhere with that car,” he sneered.
“Here, take it,” I said, throwing the keys at him, letting my anger get in the way of common sense. “But I'm still leaving.”
“How? You gonna walk to the bus? That's miles from here.”
“Just go look for your car. I don't even want to know . . .” Rory had come home drunk before, but this—this state he was in—was a new low.
“Lilly, I don't need this shit right now.”
“I don't care what you need!” I yelled.
The phone began to ring. We both looked at it suspiciously.
“Don't answer it,” Rory ordered, trying not to raise his voice.
I snatched the phone up, clearing my throat before answering. “Lightly residence.”
“Lilly? It's Peggy.” Peggy was Barbie's next door neighbor. She and I weren't close, so I was clueless as to what she would want at this time of night.