CHAPTER TWENTY-TWO
The coming days merged into a psychedelic
strobe-lit procession of happenings. The morning after Kirk
flattened Chris on my hotel suite floor, I awoke to find my husband
sitting in a chair he’d dragged up next to my bed, ankle hooked
over knee, hands steepled to lips, watching me with grim
detachment.
All sleep fled me. I sat up, disoriented and
apprehensive, trying to unstick my tongue from the roof of my
mouth. After a wobbly trip to the bathroom to relieve myself and
wash my face, I returned to curl against the head of the bed,
facing Kirk. He hadn’t moved. Not an eyelash. His stillness
threatened to finish off what of my nerves had survived the prior
night.
I have to say that I’ve never known anyone else
whose still quietness shrills and invades like Kirk’s. To
me, it’s like screaming sirens, freight train whistles and a squad
of jack-hammers bursting loose all over me at once. And the fact
that I know this is exactly the effect he desires does not make it
less so.
Okay. I squared my shoulders to face the
ambush head on, to get past it.
It is nearly always something about which I
haven’t a clue. This morning, I did. But I hadn’t a clue as to how
to defuse my simmering spouse. The suspense, as usual, was my
undoing. And the guilt – not of wrongdoing but a reaction to what
Kirk thought he’d seen.
“Kirk – say something.”
No blink. Nothing. Only those green lasers riveting
me to the headboard. I rose abruptly, suddenly angry, and snatched
my suitcase from a corner. I began stuffing my belongings inside
until it bulged. All during this time, I felt Kirk’s gaze probe,
poke and assault me. I whirled and glared at him.
“Spit it out, Kirk. You might as well be beating me
as the way you’re watching me like I’m some germ under a
microscope.” I plopped down limply on the bed, drew my legs up and
hugged my knees. I felt incredibly sad and tried to keep my gaze
steady with Kirk’s.
I couldn’t. My eyes watered from the strain and I
shrugged, looked away and thought, It’s not worth the effort. He
always
could out-mean me. No contest. That didn’t mean I had to be his
punching bag.
That thought ricocheted my gaze back to his. “What
are you thinking?” I asked sharply.
I nearly jumped when he spoke. “There’s nothing
left,” he said, his voice a near whisper. His eyes never wavered.
How in God’s name did he not blink for so long?
“What do you mean?” I sniped, inordinately
irritated. “Nothing left?” I gave a derisive sound in the back of
my throat. “We’ve got everythi – ”
“It’s all gone,” he continued as though I’d not
spoken. I hated it when he crawled out onto his isolated berg,
alone with his calculations of what is, regardless of what
my perception might render. It’s like talking to somebody on a
television screen and they’re off somewhere else entirely. At those
times, I hated his drive, one that propelled both the good and bad
in Kirk.
“Kirk,” I said sharply, “If you’re talking about
the situation you walked into last night, it was not what
you think. Chris and I didn’t – ”
“I’ve lost everything. My wife. My – ”
“Will you listen to me – you’ve not lost me,
Kirk!”
“ – ministry. I’m a man without a country.” His
voice droned on, his gaze fixed hypnotically on me. “I guess you
know I’ll most likely go blow my brains out, Neecy.”
“Kirk!” I scooted upright and swung my legs to the
floor, recognizing the sheer possibility of his words. “That’s
foolishness, you – ”
“No.” His eyes suddenly turned dark. “That’s not
foolishness. Foolishness is what I’ve been doing for the past
years, catering to your every whim and – ”
“Oh,” I threw my hands wide, “so that’s it.
You’ve – ”
“ – treating you like the Queen of Sheba, giving
you everything – ”
“I didn’t ask you to.” Anger boiled out my
fingertips and toes. “You chose to do that. And as far as your
ministry, I didn’t require you to leave.”
“You said you were leaving.”
“I would have. But you didn’t have to. I had a
choice. You had a choice. You chose to stay with me. It’s not my
fault you left it behind.”
“I wouldn’t say that.” His voice and scrutiny
grated my already raw nerves.
“Look, Kirk,” I rose to my feet, “I’ve got to
shower and dress. I will not accept this guilt trip you’re handing
me.” I spun away and headed for the bathroom. At the door, I
whirled back to face him. “This is all about the fact that you
found a man in my room last night and – ”
“That’s not all this is about. But it hurts like
crazy knowing he – ”
“Hah!” I planted my hands on hips and glared at
him. “So now you finally know how I felt when I found out you’d
been throwing yourself away on Roxie. And all the recent drinking,
acting like it didn’t affect me in the least.” I couldn’t
help the bitterness in my railing. That he’d rendered me invisible
again filled me with desolation.
He was on his feet in a flash and in my face.
“Don’t,” he ground between his teeth, “ever talk to me about
drinking. Never again.” If looks could kill, I’d have been
plastered to the carpet in five seconds flat and ground underfoot.
“And I’m sick of your manipulation and – ”
“I do not manipulate you,” I thrust my chin out and
glowered back at him. Only thing was, my voice rose and his didn’t,
making me sound more shrewish than ever. “Just because I finally
speak up for myself and refuse to kowtow to – ”
“I’ll show you what independence is.” His timber
changed in a heartbeat, as did his emptied expression. “You’re so
all-fired liberated, I’ll just back away and let you have it all. I
think it’s time to see a lawyer.” With that statement to clinch his
control, Kirk, my hero, my protector, turned his back and marched
out the door, slamming it behind him.
Abandonment.
Everything elemental in me lurched...panicked. I
dashed to the door and flung it open. He was disappearing down the
corridor, his gait military, back straight.
“Kirk?” I cried, fighting the sickening fear rising
like bile in me.
His step never faltered. He did not look
back.
I didn’t see Kirk for several days. I told his
salon appointments he was sick. He was, I told myself. In the head.
I dreaded seeing a police car pull up to our house or business and
hearing them say, “Mrs. Crenshaw, we’re sorry to tell you your
husband is dead.”
Underneath all that, I felt responsible for some of
his distress. I’d had no choice in some matters, such as having to
leave Solomon for a fresh start. But during long sleepless nights,
I’d seen with stunning clarity that I had not truly forgiven Kirk
of his infidelity. Oh, I thought I had. But looking back, I saw
that I’d placed myself in tempting situations I once would have
shunned, subconsciously hoping to punish him.
I prayed. Kirk’s suicide threat haunted me. Some
part of me knew it could happen. The brutal side to Kirk could turn
inward.
By now, Toby and Dawn knew trouble brewed, but I
softpedaled like crazy. “Daddy’s taking a rest,” I told them. “He’s
been overworked for a long time. He needed to go away for a few
days, by himself and – rest.”
I could see in Toby’s eyes that he sensed more, but
he didn’t ask. And I knew. He didn’t want to know. Dawn was more
blunt.
“Why doesn’t Daddy want to be around us anymore? We
don’t make lots of noise or anything.” She worked her crossword
puzzle, her wheat-colored sheet of hair falling forward to hug her
adolescent cheeks. I’d recently given her a wedgy bob that had her
constantly tucking it behind her ears.
“Oh,” I sat beside her on the salon sofa, looking
over her shoulder, hoping she didn’t notice my trembling hands,
“he’ll be home any time now, all rested and dying to see his little
girl.”
“What’s a six letter word that means ‘residential
district’? Begins with S.”
Her savoir-faire attitude struck me anew. Dawn
seemed far beyond her twelve years in ways. “Suburb,” I replied and
watched her pencil it in.
“Can I go to the Bijou tonight?” she asked blandly,
knowing what my answer would be.
“’Fraid not, Dawnie.”
I felt her stiffen without her face losing its
bored mien. “All the other kids go.”
“Can’t help it. Daddy and I don’t think it’s too
good an idea to turn you loose in a darkened movie theatre with a
passel of teens dying to find a nook in which to neck.”
“Daddy’s not here,” she drawled. “What’s a four
letter word that means ‘labels’? Starts with a T.”
“Tags.” I wondered again what to do with this
girl-woman of mine who kept me busy devising ways of saying ‘no’
without making her feel deprived. Yet – she did anyway.
“You could let me go if you wanted to.” Her fingers
gripped the pencil that meticulously filled in the blanks with
artistic lettering.
“Mm hm. But I love you too much to do that. I
remember when I was your age, and I know what went on in such
circumstances.”
She swung her head to look at me with narrowed
sky-blues. “You mean you necked with guys?”
“No. I didn’t. But I had a friend who did.”
Callie. My heart lurched at the thought of her. How I missed
her. “So – I can’t, in good conscience, let you get caught up in
it.”
The narrowed gaze grew cool, then flounced away.
“You’re too protective. All because of Krissie being killed. It’s
not fair.” Her cheeks puffed out and the lips tightened in
anger.
“True – we are vigilant as a result of Krissie’s
death. But had that not happened, Dawn, I’d be just as protective.”
I knew it was easier for Dawn to over-simplify our actions as being
neurotic rather than being for her own good. I tried to spend as
much quality time with her as possible. What with Kirk’s and my
problems, that wasn’t easy to do. But I kept trying. She was, in
fact, like an only child, what with Heather’s college absences and
Toby’s teen activities.
“Where is Daddy?” she asked petulantly.
Knowingly. Sometimes, I swore she had extra eyes and ears by the
way she challenged me with questions – as though she already knew
the answers.
Today, the phone’s ringing rescued me from having
to answer. After telling another of Kirk’s clients he was ill, I
hung up and for a moment pressed my face to the cool mirror behind
his workstation.
Where are you, Kirk? When are you coming
back?
Kirk, my dream man, never came back. Another
version, the hidden man I’d dreaded all the way back to honeymoon
days, appeared the next day. My good resolutions for change fizzled
when he walked through the door, gilded in splendid fury.
He was the antithesis of the man who courted me so
eloquently and gave me the greatest gift of all: unconditional
love. This new man was convinced I’d squandered his affection and
did not deserve his respect and devotion. My head swirled from the
impact of it all.
In a heartbeat, I hated him. For one long moment, I
felt pure hatred for him. “Why?” I asked, as furious as he. “Why
did you want me to love you again? Why didn’t you just leave me
alone?” Tears spilled down my cheeks and I hated them, too. To this
man, they spelled weakness. “Why did you give me the world and then
– snatch it away?”
He stared at me with those blasted unreadable eyes
until I wanted to scratch them out of their sockets. And I saw it
delighted him that I humbled myself. Ice water shot through me and
I instantly stopped weeping, wiped my eyes and took a seat on the
den sofa. He remained standing, I suspected, to maintain the upper
hand, determined that I not coerce him into anything.
Despair swamped me, but I would not let him see it.
“So – where do we go from here?”
“Do whatever you want.” He plopped defiantly into
an easy chair. “Actually, I don’t care.”
The brutal response took my breath. The nightmare
grew worse. Now, I had the dreaded stranger – one I’d only glimpsed
in the past – living with me. And he was paranoid to boot.
Kirk, magnificent in battle, now wanted to destroy
me.
“Kirk. Why do you hate me?”
He gazed at me with no emotion whatsoever.
“Janeece, I don’t hate you.”
“What changed you, Kirk?”
He looked at me for a long time...I didn’t think he
was going to answer.
“I’ve been to Solomon while I was gone. Roxie’s
murderer was arrested. See, Janeece, the reason I got mixed up with
Roxie
to begin with was the letter Moose left her. Here,” he pulled the
tightly folded paper from his shirt pocket and tossed it at
me.
I picked it up from where it landed at my feet,
opened it and began to read Moose’s big childish scrawl:
Dear Roxie:
This has got to be the hardest letter I ever
wrote. I got my life in a mess. You been thinking I was on
something. Well, I was. At times, anyway. I talked to Kirk about
it, made him promise not to tell anybody, not even Janeece. I tried
to get off the stuff, Roxie. I really have and feel that God’s
helped me a lot. But that’s not what this letter’s about. Here’s
the deal – when I was working in the Seven-Eleven Store, I left one
day when the new hired guy came in to relieve me. When I was down
the road, I missed my billfold. I figured it fell out of my back
pocket when I used the men’s room before quitting time. I turned
the car around and went back. I found my billfold where it fell
under the counter, then remembered I’d pulled it out to get some
change, got busy and forgot about it.
The store was quiet and seemed empty when I got
there. I got this spooky feeling, you know? Like somebody had held
the place up or something and maybe tied up this worker – or killed
him. So I snuck to the back of the store, as scared as I ever been
in my life. I heard somebody talking in the men’s room, quiet like.
I tiptoed closer. That’s when I heard them talking about drugs.
Cocaine. Seems they was hiding some behind the sink in the men’s
room. They mentioned a couple of names I recognized and suddenly I
knew I shouldn’t be hearing about this deal. So I snuck out but hit
my foot on the corner of a Cocola crate at the end of the counter
and next thing was they come running out of the men’s room. I was
in my car pulling out but I know they saw me. I never did go back
to my job. Thing is, I know they gonna kill me. Don’t know when.
But they will.
I wrote this so you’d find it if something
happened to me. If I showed up dead, I know you’d go through my
things and find it. Here’s what you do. Don’t tell anybody about
this. Cause if you do, they might come after you. I didn’t mention
names on purpose cause that’ll only get you in trouble.
Kirk will help you. Go to him. Only him. Don’t
ever forget I love you.
Forever yours, Moose.
“Kirk,” I gazed at him through a teary mist, “Why
didn’t you tell me all this sooner? It would have made a
difference.”
“Maybe. Maybe not.” He shrugged indifferently. “It
wasn’t safe for you to know anything. When Roxie was murdered, I
figured the drug dealers might come after me, knowing Roxie had
turned to me after Moose died. I haven’t breathed a free breath
until I found out last week that the killers were in custody and
they’d confessed. Now,” he stretched his mouth into a grim line and
steepled his fingers to them for a long moment, his eyes hardening
even more, “now, I’ve lost everything. There’s no regaining. I’ve
been stupid and foolish, but I went into it with the right heart. I
wanted to fulfill Moose’s last cry for help. It cost me
everything.”
Callie’s words flashed before me: Like a lamb to
the slaughter.
“Oh, Kirk,” I wanted to take him in my arms and
soothe him, but something in his countenance held me back. His eyes
were green granite.
“You don’t trust my motives at all, do you?” I
asked quietly, shaking my head sadly.
I gazed into a stranger’s eyes. They looked through
me, didn’t acknowledge I’d spoken.
Kirk knew. He knew he broke my heart anew. This
time, he didn’t care beans that he’d taken from me the one thing
I’d vowed to never again relinquish.
For that – despite the love and pity I felt for him
– I ceased to respect him.