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That's Not How Any of This Works:
an excerpt from Tether
The back steps creaked when Jo sat down, heavy with love. She followed Laura’s coordinated body and her every movement in the spring sunshine: throw the ball, clap at the dog to hurry though he was already hell-bent for the object of his obsession. Spot returned, dropped his prize, barked. Laura laughed, sent her joy ringing through the clearing around their cozy farmhouse. It pierced the crisp air and sailed straight up to the deep blue sky. Jo followed the sound all the way to heavens, to the rushing, fat white cumulus clouds that hustled by in the bluster.
The whole world was coming alive around them as Makah birthed spring like a new mother. The appearance of every verdant shoot was tended by vigilant, gentle rains that covered the new life with wet love, nearly drowning it in affection. Then the sun took its turn, the other parent clucking and scolding the spoiling, but soon enough the green child that was never denied a thing would run amok, calling all its friends to garden parties gone wild all over the island. Spring had also come to Jo’s wife. You could feel it in Laura’s growing muscles. Hear it in the fullness of her voice. See it the snap of her eyes, her black hair swinging down in an animated pony tail, cut shorter because Laura had demanded it. The return of it all was a welcome balm to Jo’s lonely soul.
She laughed along when Spot, in a flat-out run for glory, caught a root and did a series of somersaults into a patch of fresh blue forget-me-nots. He sprawled flat on all fours, dazed. He stood, shook, and refocused on the goal.
“You want to come in for some lunch?” Jo asked.
“No, we’re alright out here,” Laura replied, minding the dog more than Jo.
“Okay - are you - ”
“You can go in. Don’t wait for us.”
“I want to wait for you. This is nice. Feels like we used to feel.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Laura scowled. “You can go in. I’m taking Spot for a walk.”
“Hold on - let me grab my coat.” Jo leapt up, twirled and popped into the mudroom before Laura answered. She donned a windbreaker and stepped outside, only to realize Laura and the dog were already gone. The crack of a dead branch drew her attention to the woods. Laura had left her behind. She was okay to walk on her own, now, she’d made that much progress. But it wasn’t worry about a fall that flushed Jo’s stomach. She trotted down the steps and followed her wife into the forest.
“Hey - you didn’t wait for me.” Jo sounded whiny, even to her own ears.
“Didn’t know I had to. Said it was okay to go in,” Laura replied mildly.
“Something wrong, babe?”
“No.”
“Yes there is.” Jo caught Laura’s shoulder with a gentle hand and stopped her flight.
“Just leave it.”
“Leave what?” Jo’s grasp tightened but Laura shook her off. Now the tremendous heat building in Jo's gut baked the heart-shaped brick in her chest solid.
“Nothing." Laura answered. "I don’t want to do this. Not here Jo, okay? Not now.”
“Do what here? Do what, Laura?”
“Not here. Not how I want to do this.”
“Do what?” Jo asked the question but she already knew the answer. Here in the middle of the watchful deep woods Jo knew exactly what Laura was about to do. She started to panic. She pictured kicking over every damn tree around her, lighting them on fire, and pissing on the smoking ashes. Then, in her terrified rage she got very cold. “Where, then, Laura? Where do we do this - where’s the best place on Makah for you to leave me? The house? Our bedroom? Or should there be a view that I’ll never forget?"
“You can’t be angry.”
“Yes I can. Don’t tell me what to do. Jesus Christ, Laura. Don’t do this. You can stop, right now. You can stop and take it back and we’ll just keep going.”
“But you can’t take back what you did.”
“No.” Jo nodded. “I messed up. But I stayed. I stayed through all of it. All of it. That’s what matters. I stuck with you and I stuck with us because that’s what I want. You and me. You’re my partner and I screwed up and I won’t try to defend myself. You know why I did it. Laura you have to see why I stayed, too. You have to. That has to count.”
“Know you love me, Jo. But not like it was. I want like it was.”
“Yeah me too. But it’s never like it was, babe. Not in any marriage. Ever. That’s why so many people fail at it. It’s always going to be like it is - right now. Everyday. I want what it was too. But I made peace with that. I want to figure out what’s next.”
“I do have it how it used to be,” Laura said slowly, voice starting to edge up. “I have that with Wendy. And I like it. She sees me and wants me. Not who I was. Me now. You don’t want me now, you want who I was.”
Wendy? Laura had exactly what with her occupational therapist? Jo put a shaking hand on the spindly trunk of a nearby aspen. Always the good little reporter, she stayed focused. Wendy, whatever else she was to Laura, was a symptom, not the disease. Plenty of questions and pain for later. Now was the edge of the knife. “You can say these things and we can talk about it. But you can’t leave, Laura. You can’t quit. You don’t quit. That’s not -”
“Not who you married?” Laura finished for her. Because after all this time, Laura wasn’t another person. Not totally. Hearts and bones and they’d twirled them all up, and Jo didn’t really know who she was anymore without Laura to create a whole. So she couldn’t do this.
“I want to be happy again.” Laura offered, quietly.
“You can want that.” Jo replied, nodding hard.
“I’m giving us our lives back, Jo. You can have D.C. again. I can have here and be the only person I can be now.”
“I thought I wanted to go back but I don’t.” Jo sold that line hard. “Because we can only go forward. You think leaving me is going to change something with you. It won’t. It won’t make you different.”
“Wendy makes me different.”
“Fuck Wendy.” Truly - fuck that slithering bitch. Jo let her mind wander to a very heated conversation she was soon to have with Ms. Sealth, then snapped back. “She’s not the point. You gave up your choice. You gave up the right to leave a long time ago. You certainly gave it up when I left everything - everything that ever mattered to me to come here with you. You were what mattered most. You are. It’s why you can’t leave. And you made a promise.”
“So did you.”
“Just give it time.” Jo flagged. She was out of arguments, out of breath, out of will. “Give us time. Please, babe. Please don’t do this.” She put a now-bony hand out to Laura, dotted with liver spots coming in hard-won with age. Laura reached back out and her grip felt solid. Just like Laura always did. Like there was something, someone tethering her to the world. Jo looked up. She smiled, hopeful.
Laura smiled back at Jo like she was a worn-out thrill.
And it was done. Nothing that had come before, the years, the promises, the hurt, the joy, none of it mattered because they weren’t the truth anymore. The new truth sucker-stabbed Jo in the kidneys and all her love, everything that had been their marriage, bled out right then and there on the dead forest floor.
The whole world was coming alive around them as Makah birthed spring like a new mother. The appearance of every verdant shoot was tended by vigilant, gentle rains that covered the new life with wet love, nearly drowning it in affection. Then the sun took its turn, the other parent clucking and scolding the spoiling, but soon enough the green child that was never denied a thing would run amok, calling all its friends to garden parties gone wild all over the island. Spring had also come to Jo’s wife. You could feel it in Laura’s growing muscles. Hear it in the fullness of her voice. See it the snap of her eyes, her black hair swinging down in an animated pony tail, cut shorter because Laura had demanded it. The return of it all was a welcome balm to Jo’s lonely soul.
She laughed along when Spot, in a flat-out run for glory, caught a root and did a series of somersaults into a patch of fresh blue forget-me-nots. He sprawled flat on all fours, dazed. He stood, shook, and refocused on the goal.
“You want to come in for some lunch?” Jo asked.
“No, we’re alright out here,” Laura replied, minding the dog more than Jo.
“Okay - are you - ”
“You can go in. Don’t wait for us.”
“I want to wait for you. This is nice. Feels like we used to feel.”
“Yeah. I guess.” Laura scowled. “You can go in. I’m taking Spot for a walk.”
“Hold on - let me grab my coat.” Jo leapt up, twirled and popped into the mudroom before Laura answered. She donned a windbreaker and stepped outside, only to realize Laura and the dog were already gone. The crack of a dead branch drew her attention to the woods. Laura had left her behind. She was okay to walk on her own, now, she’d made that much progress. But it wasn’t worry about a fall that flushed Jo’s stomach. She trotted down the steps and followed her wife into the forest.
“Hey - you didn’t wait for me.” Jo sounded whiny, even to her own ears.
“Didn’t know I had to. Said it was okay to go in,” Laura replied mildly.
“Something wrong, babe?”
“No.”
“Yes there is.” Jo caught Laura’s shoulder with a gentle hand and stopped her flight.
“Just leave it.”
“Leave what?” Jo’s grasp tightened but Laura shook her off. Now the tremendous heat building in Jo's gut baked the heart-shaped brick in her chest solid.
“Nothing." Laura answered. "I don’t want to do this. Not here Jo, okay? Not now.”
“Do what here? Do what, Laura?”
“Not here. Not how I want to do this.”
“Do what?” Jo asked the question but she already knew the answer. Here in the middle of the watchful deep woods Jo knew exactly what Laura was about to do. She started to panic. She pictured kicking over every damn tree around her, lighting them on fire, and pissing on the smoking ashes. Then, in her terrified rage she got very cold. “Where, then, Laura? Where do we do this - where’s the best place on Makah for you to leave me? The house? Our bedroom? Or should there be a view that I’ll never forget?"
“You can’t be angry.”
“Yes I can. Don’t tell me what to do. Jesus Christ, Laura. Don’t do this. You can stop, right now. You can stop and take it back and we’ll just keep going.”
“But you can’t take back what you did.”
“No.” Jo nodded. “I messed up. But I stayed. I stayed through all of it. All of it. That’s what matters. I stuck with you and I stuck with us because that’s what I want. You and me. You’re my partner and I screwed up and I won’t try to defend myself. You know why I did it. Laura you have to see why I stayed, too. You have to. That has to count.”
“Know you love me, Jo. But not like it was. I want like it was.”
“Yeah me too. But it’s never like it was, babe. Not in any marriage. Ever. That’s why so many people fail at it. It’s always going to be like it is - right now. Everyday. I want what it was too. But I made peace with that. I want to figure out what’s next.”
“I do have it how it used to be,” Laura said slowly, voice starting to edge up. “I have that with Wendy. And I like it. She sees me and wants me. Not who I was. Me now. You don’t want me now, you want who I was.”
Wendy? Laura had exactly what with her occupational therapist? Jo put a shaking hand on the spindly trunk of a nearby aspen. Always the good little reporter, she stayed focused. Wendy, whatever else she was to Laura, was a symptom, not the disease. Plenty of questions and pain for later. Now was the edge of the knife. “You can say these things and we can talk about it. But you can’t leave, Laura. You can’t quit. You don’t quit. That’s not -”
“Not who you married?” Laura finished for her. Because after all this time, Laura wasn’t another person. Not totally. Hearts and bones and they’d twirled them all up, and Jo didn’t really know who she was anymore without Laura to create a whole. So she couldn’t do this.
“I want to be happy again.” Laura offered, quietly.
“You can want that.” Jo replied, nodding hard.
“I’m giving us our lives back, Jo. You can have D.C. again. I can have here and be the only person I can be now.”
“I thought I wanted to go back but I don’t.” Jo sold that line hard. “Because we can only go forward. You think leaving me is going to change something with you. It won’t. It won’t make you different.”
“Wendy makes me different.”
“Fuck Wendy.” Truly - fuck that slithering bitch. Jo let her mind wander to a very heated conversation she was soon to have with Ms. Sealth, then snapped back. “She’s not the point. You gave up your choice. You gave up the right to leave a long time ago. You certainly gave it up when I left everything - everything that ever mattered to me to come here with you. You were what mattered most. You are. It’s why you can’t leave. And you made a promise.”
“So did you.”
“Just give it time.” Jo flagged. She was out of arguments, out of breath, out of will. “Give us time. Please, babe. Please don’t do this.” She put a now-bony hand out to Laura, dotted with liver spots coming in hard-won with age. Laura reached back out and her grip felt solid. Just like Laura always did. Like there was something, someone tethering her to the world. Jo looked up. She smiled, hopeful.
Laura smiled back at Jo like she was a worn-out thrill.
And it was done. Nothing that had come before, the years, the promises, the hurt, the joy, none of it mattered because they weren’t the truth anymore. The new truth sucker-stabbed Jo in the kidneys and all her love, everything that had been their marriage, bled out right then and there on the dead forest floor.