Windkill

The ambulance crew shared a pizza with Cal and his family.

Sitting by the fire, they ate in silence, only the conversations of surrounding people, the sounds of protest at the fence, and the traffic of the highway to liven the meal.

Cynthia and Bob sat to one side, taking comfort by touching their knees. For the moment, they only had eyes for each other, their worry for each other plain on their faces as they ate.

Cal looked away, ashamed at the jealousy he felt at the shared love of his daughter. He and Marilyn were like that once. Siting across from him at the fire, she seemed intent on increasing the distance she had gained over the past year. If there was love in here, it hid from sight. The old line of thinking reclaimed Cal as he tried to find a deed or spoken word that created this alienation with his wife, a reason for the cuts she was inflicting on herself.

As he stared at the flames, a stray idea once confined to the dark of his mind grew too great to remain hidden. The behavior of his wife for the past several hours was simply too contrary to the welfare of his family and his mental health that the idea was pleasant when it flashed into existence.

While flames licked upward from the charred wood, the thought of his wife’s death tantalized Cal in a way that only months ago would have been repulsive. A weight lifted from his back and he seemed to breathe deeper than he had for a long time. His mind cleared of all the details he let clutter his life for so long and he saw the idea in a simple clarity. Cal’s mouth hung open as he fixed his gaze on the flames to keep from looking at Marilyn. Surely she would read his mind if she looked into his eyes.

Life would be so much nicer if Marilyn were dead.

Perhaps it was a testament to Cal’s character that this idea came to him after a year of the abuse his family suffered at the hands of Marilyn. He shook his head and covered his mouth with a hand to stop a bout of hysterical laughter. A small voice in his mind told Cal he should never have entertained the idea. The death of a person he once loved was still a tragedy.

There was always the possibility he and Marilyn could reconcile their differences and return to a good marriage.

When hell freezes over, a voice growled in his mind.

Bowing his head, Cal covered his face with his hands and tried to understand what was happening. His skin felt icy and his body shook. What kind of man thought about his wife’s death? But life would be so much better with her gone.

The battle raged in his mind, one voice countering the other until Cal did not know which was his own voice.

A hand touched his back and rubbed a gentle circle between his shoulder blades. Thank God Marilyn had come to her sense and was finally attempting contact. Cal could have wept for the joy of the feeling. Lifting his head from his hands, he looked up to see Bryon bending over his father.

“Are you all right, Dad?” he kneeled to look Cal in the eyes. His son’s concern, though heartwarming, was not what Cal expected. The rest of the people at the fire were looking at him with concern, one of the two paramedics rising to his feet.

“I’m fine,” Cal stammered looking past his son at his wife.

Marilyn watched Cal with a contemptuous curl of her lip. “You’re disgusting.” She turned away from Cal and the fire.

It was over. The marriage was done. Finished with the insult. The blade of her words pierced his heart for the last time and drained his love to the ground.

Cal looked at his son and daughter with her husband sitting close at hand. They had all moved close to Cal while immersed in his thoughts. If there was anything he wanted out of the marriage, it was the children. With them, he could build a new life. With them, he had love.

When the night’s entertainment was over, he would tell Marilyn. Divorce was considerably better than seeing her dead. For now, he would ensure the safety of the children.