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And push.
“Stop lying to me.”
And push.
“Why are you hurting?”
And push.
Then, as I’m about to give up, her control snaps. She takes two quick strides in my direction and snatches the bat from me.
“You want to know what’s got me so mad?” Flames dance in her eyes.
“Yes.” I inhale through my nose, knowing this is going to hurt.
“Fine. You asked for this.”
It’s impressive how graceful she looks as she swings the bat with an insane amount of force, completely obliterating a row of ceramic dishes to dust. “I’m mad at myself for telling you to leave!”
A TV is her next victim, and she sends the bat right through the screen. “I’m mad at you for listening to me!”
Then goes the fax machine. “I’m mad at us for not talking!”
Boom. Hit. Boom. Hit.
Our rage erupts, hot and lethal.
I almost think she’s done when she pauses in front of a shelf filled with glass bottles. Nothing about this is easy or pain-free, and while hurt burns in her eyes, this is the most honest we’ve been with each other in a long time.
She hesitates, breaths ragged, fingers twitching against the handle of the bat.
I move to the other side of the room and pluck a sledgehammer off the wall, gaze on her as I bring it above my head. She watches as I smash a wooden chair into splinters. “I’m furious at myself for signing those goddamn fucking papers!”
Another strike. “I hate you hid the results of the pregnancy test from me!”
The inside of her goggles steam up, and I can feel a wetness pooling at the bottom of mine.
“Your turn,” I croak.
She rolls her shoulders, preparing for the killing blow. “I’m fucking mad at my parents for making me feel worthless.” The bat sails down onto the top shelf. “I’m mad at the time we’ve lost!” There goes the middle. “I hate myself for being weak!” Her hits slow as she takes out the final row of bottles. I watch on, wanting to run to her as I watch her walls and safety nets crumble. “We had a plan. Dreams.” She gasps for air. “And I’m worried we’re ruined forever.”
I feel the blow of her words. Piercing me through the chest.
Silence.
The raging waters settle.
The storm passes.
We both drop our weapons to the concrete floor.
She drags the goggles off her head. Silver lines her eyes when she faces me, her voice fraying at the edges. “We’re living in a fantasy world. Soon you’ll be gone again, leaving me here to pick up the shattered pieces of our life. I hate this.” She stumbles forward, reaching for one of the steel drums, but I’m faster.
She falls into my arms and then falls apart. “I broke us. It was me.”
“I’ve got you. I’ve got you, baby.” I hold her as close as humanly possible as her chest rattles with her words. We crumple to the floor together. Inside I’m falling apart, but outside I’m a wall of steel, holding strong for the both of us. There’s an odd type of satisfaction to the searing pain.
“Talia, look at me.” I coax her from where she’s buried against my neck. Swiping away at the strands of hair clinging to her cheeks, I frame her face. “What’s broken can be mended. There’s a method of fixing broken pottery in Japan called kintsugi, where they repair the cracks with gold.” I press my forehead to hers. “Those cracks make up our history, they’re what make us. This is not the end. We are reparable, and I swear to you, if you let me put us back together again, we will come out the other end stronger than ever.” Staring deep into her hazel eyes, I whisper my next words against her damp cheek, the taste of salt on my lips. “I can see the gold, baby. We’re almost there. We’re almost whole again.”
