Horizons (Working title)

The night I met Celia, I stumbled into the coffee shop at three in the morning, my two week old son asleep in a sling wrapped around my chest. I lowered his body away from mine, made a silent plea to him to stay in dreamland just long enough for me to have a cup of coffee, and laid him gently into the booth. It was common to see us at The Loft at this time of night. The staff knew about the problems I had at home. They knew that if I was dragging Fin into the shop, it meant my darling husband was again on a bender, and having the baby awake and fussing would only agitate the situation. I settled into the booth next to the sleep babe, and pulled out a notebook and pen. Lost in my on words, I didn't notice when the booth across from me filled up until I heard giggling.
"Mel...oh Mel...HEY, earth to Mel."
I looked up into David's smiling eyes. His mop of blond curls fell over his forehead and he winked at me.
"Hey, sweets. Sorry, a little lost tonight, " I smiled.
"So, I see. Jeff being an ass again, or just can't sleep?"
"A little of both, I guess," I sighed, looking away briefly. "Trying to get some work done. Fin is cranky. I haven't gotten a full night sleep since he was born. Ya'd think I'd get used to it, wouldn't ya?"
My lies were so transparent, but David did not pry. He knew me well enough to not push, but I could feel his concern. He dropped himself into the seat next to me, carefully sliding the baby further back into the booth.
We talked dry small talk for some time, catching up on gossip, trading stories about our mutual friends. Then, as though we had run out of words, the conversation stopped. We sat for a while in an uncomfortable silence, and I knew what was coming.
"Why do you stay, Mel?" He looked at my, leaning in, trying to hold my attention.
"He's my-"
"Yes, he's your husband, but he damn well doesn't act like it. "
He was right, but I wouldn't admit it. I shrugged my shoulders and sighed. I hated this part of the conversation. I hated this part of every conversation. And it always seemed to come up.
The words again ran out, and the silence hung over us again, like San Francisco fog.
A tall dark woman rose from the table that David had been at and came over to stand near the edge of the booth.
"Hi. Doesn't look too friendly over here right now. Thought I 'd break up the party, " she smiled softly.
She moved so gracefully that it took my breath away. I was stunned.
David giggled softly, "Mel, this is my new roommate, Celia. Celia, Mel, an old friend of mine."
I felt like a fifth grader. I couldn't look up, could meet her gaze. There was something about that woman that just frightened me, like by looking at me, she could see through to my soul. When she spoke, her hands flew about her like birds, like small delicate birds. She had artist's hands, and I knew she was talented before I even saw her work. I knew from the moment that I saw her hands that I would love her. I spent hours watching Celia's hands that night, and her face as she spoke, her body when she moved. I fell in love with every aspect of her. We spent that entire night together. Her voice was still ringing in my ears when she dropped me off at home the next morning.


My voice shook as I whimpered into the phone, "I need you. Can you come get me?"
"Mel? What's wrong? Where are you?"
"Oh, Cel. It happened again. He pushed me against a wall, and I grabbed for the baby and told him I was leaving." I could hardly get the words out, I was breathing so hard. I had run from the apartment and across the parking lot to a diner. The waitress was so stunned when she saw me, that she didn't protest to my demand to use the telephone.
"Are you OK?"
"Yes, I'm just scared. He tried to run me down with the car. I know he's out looking for me. I don't want him to find me. I'm hiding in the diner."

We drove through darkness thicker then any I had ever seen to get there. She lived in a trailer home, on a foundation behind an old ranch house that her brother owned. The property was beautiful in the daytime, but that night it looked ominous and full of hiding places. I was in shock when we got there, and David immediately took over caring for Fin. As I walked around the house, my emotions finally took over and I collapsed to the floor. I heard Celia in the bathroom, running water, and then she came to me, helped me off the floor. We walked to the bathroom, and more gently then my own mother, slid my clothes off my body. There was nothing sexual about her removing my clothing that night. It was maternal, and medicinal. She helped me step into the tub of water, hot enough that my skin turned a deep ruby shade as I lay there, inhaling the lavender oil she had added. She sat with me, holding my hand, running her fingers through my hair, whispering soft comfort to me when I needed it most. And when she knew it was time, she left me alone to my own thoughts.
When I had soaked myself to a prune, I pressed my hands along the sides of the bathtub and lifted my body out. I wrapped myself in the thin, flannel robe Celia had laid across the counter top, and ran my fingers through my hair. I was badly in need of a dye job, and the days stress showed on my face. I walked into the kitchen, where a glass of red wine was waiting on the counter for me. I moved down the hallway, half exploring the house, half searching for Celia. At the end of the hall, the door was mostly shut, but there was a soft tapping from inside. I knew she was there. I pushed the door a bit, and stood in the doorway. Celia was painting. Not a canvas, or a piece of pottery, but the walls. She had painted a mural on the walls that could have rivaled Michelangelo. It was fantastic. Trees and fairies, goblins and castles. I watched her, those hands again amazing me, drawing me to her. She saw me from the corner of her eye, and held up a hand to hold me for one second. She finished the last few strokes of her work and motioned me to come in.
"It's beautiful, Cel. Truly gorgeous."
"Thank you." She was shy about the response. This beautiful woman that held the answers to my world in her confident soul was shy. I couldn't believe the magnitude of emotion she brought out in me. Each moment with her felt like a lifetime, each second a decade.
She reached up then, and touched my face. I smelled the paint on her hands, felt the roughness of their calloused texture. She kissed me for the first time.

David drove me to the gas station that next day to call Jeff. I hadn't realized how different I felt when I was at Celia's until that fear rushed back over me while I listened to the phone ringing.
"Hello?"
Hearing his voice made my hands shake and my voice dry up. I felt all the strength I had built up in anticipation of that phone call drain out of my body.
"Who the hell is this?"
Jeff's ability to maintain such a collected voice when he was angry had always seemed strange to me.
"Hi, it's Mel."
"Oh."
"I wanted to talk to you."
Silence.
"I'm staying here for awhile. I need to sort things out. I'm confused," I rambled.
"Baby, I miss you." His voice was smooth, gentle, and sweet. The manipulation petrified me. He was too good at it.
"Jeff, I'm scared. I'm tired of being scared. Last night was just too much for me. I need a break to recover. This has been happening all too often. I just--"
"Fuck you! What the hell do you have to be afraid of?"
Three years with this and he still made me feel as tall as a Chihuahua.
"I'm afraid--"
"Look, don't talk to me. I don't care what you have to say. If you want YOUR kid to have a father, you'll come home. I'm leaving Monday."
I knew what he meant. He was going home to Chicago. His two favorite weapons were our son, and Chicago.
"Make a choice, Mel."
"I can't, Jeff. Not at this exact moment. I need time to think."
I must have sounded stronger then I felt, because he backed off.
"24 hours. You've got 24 hours, and then I'm coming out there and you'll be ready to go."
Click.
Dial tone.


Stress induced narcolepsy seemed to take over when I was back at the trailer. David and Celia had gone into the city for the afternoon to "run errands", though I knew there were only giving me some space. I lay down on Celia's bed to nurse Fin and fell asleep as easily as he did. Sleep had always been my solace, my safe haven from reality. Here, in this home, sleep was even more precious. For the first time in years, I felt totally safe, relaxed, and loved. This was my home.
I woke up when the headlights of David's car rolled through the bedroom window and across the ceiling. Fin lay quietly next to me, wiggly and cooing to himself. We were safe, and even in his two month old mind he understood that. Celia's voice filled our home, and I made my decision.


I woke up in her arms the next morning, and laid there for a long while, relishing in my happiness, the pure bliss. When I could like still no longer, I slid out from under her arm, and padded across the floor. Fin was soundly sleeping in a bassinet next to the window, totally unaware of the chaos that was ahead in our day. I pressed my lips to his forehead.
"This will get easier, baby. I swear."
Dropping into the chair against the wall, I pulled my legs up to my chest. I picked my notebook off the end table, slid a pen out of the spiral binding, and opened the pages across my knees. I spilled all the thoughts from my head onto those pages, all the pain and confusion of the last three years. After I had written for what felt like hours, the pen rarely lifting from the page, I paused to read what I had written. Celia stirred in the bed, and I looked up to watch her. She was so perfectly beautiful like that. Her short, brown hair was a mess against the pillow, her face soft and relaxed. I put my pen to paper again and wrote about how lucky I was to have found her.


When Jeff's white VW Fox pulled into the drive, I handed Fin to Celia and asked her to stay inside with him. David stood to follow me, but I held up my hand. This was something I needed to do on my own. I stepped out onto the porch, and held my hand up to shield my eyes from the sun. When he pulled his body from the car, his face looked strange. The rage and anger that normally filled his eyes was missing. It had been replaced by a vacant stare.
"Where's your stuff?" His voice was barking, not his normal smooth talking, car salesman style.
"I'm staying, Jeff."
"Heh."
I had never seen him like that. He looked empty, hollow. His body, which usually stood so tall and foreboding, looked as if it were about to collapse in on itself. He turned and walked across the lawn toward the field. I followed him, cautiously.
"Jeff, I just can't do it anymore. This marriage is not working. It's not healthy." My words came out steadily, almost gently.
"What about Fin? What happens to Fin?" He was crying. I had never in all the time I knew him, seen him cry. He didn't look at me. Just stared off behind me, as though he were talking to someone else.
"I don't want him to see us like this. It wouldn't be a good life for him. We tried, Jeff. That's all we can do, but I don't want to be scared anymore." The words had trouble finding there way through my lips, and I began to get dizzy. "And I love her, Jeff." I knelt down to catch my breath, steady myself.
I didn't hear him moving, until he threw all his weight into his arm and brought it crashing down against the back of my head. I curled my body onto my side, and put my hands up to cover my head, but I wasn't fast enough. His steel toe collided against my face, connecting equally with my jaw and cheekbone. He kept kicking, each one stronger then the last, each one more accurate in its placement.
"How can you do this to me? How can you just walk away?" He was screaming then, totally out of control. As the world around me went black, I heard the door of the trailer slam against the outside wall, and Celia scream.


Celia had led me into the bedroom, and lowered me gently to the bed. The ice pack she had given me was too hard to hold against my swollen face, but I had done it anyway. She was sitting gingerly next to me, softly running her hand across my hair. Outside, I could hear David pacing, walking sentry like the Royal Guard, protecting me. I sat up slowly and fought the urge to run away from it all. They loved me, and were trying to take care of me, but I needed to be alone. "I'm gonna go for a walk. Clear my head a bit," I said, as I lowered my feet to the floor.
"Don't go," she whispered.
"I'm just going outside. Just around back. To watch the sun. I promise," I reached for her hand, "I'm not going anywhere."
I walked out the door of the trailer and across the porch. David glanced up from his post, and I smiled softly at him. He nodded and continued on his path. I wandered out across the yard to where I had laid just a few hours. It seemed like a dream at the time, and as time has gone by it's become more and more dreamlike. The sun was dropping over the horizon and I moved toward the back of the trailer to watch it fall. The glow it cast across the field was hypnotic, and I let it suck me in. I lowered my body into the grass. The ground was still warm from the heat of the sun, and I let my body relax against the earth. As I starred into the horizon, I realized how much there was ahead for me, for Fin, for us. I was home. The light fell slowly over the Texas horizon that day. I sat in the bramble behind the trailer with my legs stretched out before me. I had not noticed before that moment how foreign the country air felt to my city lungs. This had been a hard week, one of the hardest I had ever experienced. The physical wear on my body was evident from the bruises forming on my jaw and cheekbone. The emotional drain was far more subtle, a certain hardness in my eyes, an undeniable slope in my shoulders. It was even more obvious when I stood to stretch, and my muscles screamed for me to sit down. I sat. And the tears came at last. As though my screaming muscles had finally broken through the protective wall I had built around myself. Curling in a ball like a small child, I lowered my head to my knees and began to sob.
The grass rustled behind me, and I knew it was her. She had a way of knowing that the best time to approach me was usually the worst. She stood there, not moving for what seemed like hours, watching me cry. I new she was there but I couldn't make the tears stop. After awhile, she knelt behind me and placed one of her hands on my shoulder. Those hands. The hands that I had fallen in love with. Artist's hands, covered in calluses and roughness, hands that always seemed to smell of paint.
"Come on. It's getting dark. You shouldn't be out here once the sun goes down."
She smiled gently at me and held out her hand.



Time has past. The bruises are gone and we haven't seen Jeff in five years. The air out here smells fresh but it doesn't seem nearly as foreign to my lungs anymore. Fin is growing up. He'll start first grade in September. Things have changed. But I still wake up early in the morning to write while I watch her sleep. Celia still paints. And I still watch her hands while she does.