Campfire Songs

                I always remember my clothes.  Every memorable moment in my entire life, I remember exactly what I was wearing, down to the earrings and hair pins, often times even which underwear.  During the last day of the 2009 Brotherton Family Reunion, I was wearing my brown bikini, the one with the beaded embroidery on the left side.  Over it I had a white tube top, a large flower on lower half, my teeny tiny denim cutoffs that drove David crazy, and as always, my blue necklace.  No time for shoes, and my hair had to be pulled back.  This was the first year that my parents were hosting the family reunion, which was code for, “this was my first time hosting the family reunion.”  My parents’ house is ideal, a four story modest mansion with six bedrooms nestled in the middle of the forest of the Pacific Northwest on a beach on the eastern side of Harstine Island.  This day was breezy.  I never did get used to the salt in the air, nor the way it melded with the Christmas scent of the evergreens, but I loved it on this day.

                This was my element�"small children running around my bare feet, laughter bouncing off of the walls, my mother socializing with old family, and me behind the scenes, cooking, cleaning, bandaging cuts, and securing life jackets.  And of course, David.  Although this was my center stage, I needed that kid, chirping in a conversation when my mother made a bad joke about me, throwing a smirk across the room at me wiping up yet another spill, letting Jacob and Jackie chase him around the house, popping a kiss by me as he flew by.

                Dad was lying down again.  It’s what he did.  It’s what he had done for a while now.  The last few years he had managed to stay out of the hospital, but he was rarely out of bed.  But at this point, nobody was complaining.  Nobody in the nuclear family, anyway.  The closer aunts and uncles posed the expected questions toward his health, a routine that nobody really put much thought into anymore.  The more distant relatives continued to use him as a fallback for small talk�"one of the benefits of such an unusual host!�"“Isn’t it remarkable how well he’s doing?” “I remember when he first got sick how we thought he’d never make it a year.” “You guys must be so thankful.”

                Eventually Dad did get up though.  I suppose I shouldn’t have been as surprised as I was.  It was, after all, the family reunion.  Even though it was my mom’s half, he was still technically family.  Stationed at my semi-permanent post of the kitchen sink, I saw him coming out of the bedroom first.  Fine.  He walked over to where I stood to survey the crowd surrounding the bar, then rested a dry, cracked hand on my bare shoulder.  Snap.  Every muscle in my body tensed.  My cursory glance at the towel I was rinsing became a locked stare.  We’re in public.  Don’t do this to me now.  All of the sudden on my other shoulder, a different, still rough yet firmer hand, glided across my back and maneuvered me out from under my father’s.  David kissed me on the cheek with his arm around me, casually commenting,

                “Hi Jim.  Glad to see you up.  Kelly, Jackie wants me to take her out in a kayak.  Come help push us out?”

                My own personal hawk.

                After smiling and nodding goodbye to Dad we exited the kitchen, David’s arm sliding from its draped position over my shoulders, down to the small of my back, guiding me through the throng of Brotherton clans.  Instead of out the front door and alongside of the house, he directed me to the basement stairs, dark and deserted.  At the bottom of the staircase he raised his eyebrow at me concerned.

                “I’m fine!”

                And I was.  That was no more of a major upset than any other day.  And I was happy.  Every person I loved was here.  And to add to David abstaining from his default role of wallflower like last year, he was letting the babies show him off as their cool friend.  I loved that.  They needed some sort of male influence around.  I’m happy they latched onto David the way they did.  And it was a secret guilty pleasure of mine to just watch him existing with them.  He was a perfect paternal figure, and not just to anyone, to my Jackie and Jacob.

                A little more convinced, he smiled at me.  He grabbed my waist and eased me up against the stairwell.  Then he kissed me, too deeply for the family reunion.  He slid his hand around to the small of my back then up my spine, where he held my neck and pulled away slowly, with that damned sideways smirk on his face.

                “A*s,” I joked as I punched him in the arm.  I then sauntered away from the staircase towards the back door, utilizing every fiber of those tiny cutoffs.

 

                A few hours later it was just after dusk.  The tide had come in and handful of parents had finally allowed themselves to stop letting the children go off in the boats and paired off onto romantic trips out onto the Sound, leaving their children in my capable hands by my makeshift fire.  Half of the kids were dozing off, the other were staring determined through squinted eyes at the fickle white poof at the end of their metal sticks, willing it to roast without bursting into molten flame�"generally to no avail.  The only adult besides David and me around the campfire was Uncle Bob.  Nerdy old Uncle Bob.  After twenty years of marriage and staring down the nose of his forties, Uncle Bob and Aunt Paula finally had a few babies.  I could never really picture Uncle Bob with children, but for some reason, he looked just as normal there by the campfire, toddler asleep on his lap, as he ever did. 

                As usual, it was freezing outside.  For me anyway.  None of the children seemed to notice the cold, but David had a blanket draped over my shoulders, holding me close under his arm again, sitting on a permanent log just off of the water.  I insisted that Jackie and Jacob wear sweaters, making them the sore thumbs of the crowd of cousins.  They’ll live.    It was gorgeous outside, clear, still salty and Christmasy at the same time.  We were all huddled around that campfire, nothing impressive.  Just enough to satisfy a little pyro like me and send off small firework shows of stars at everyone’s feet.  That was one of the last times I remember loving that spot.

                I don’t remember the conversation surrounding it.  Jacob was eight, old enough that he was participating in a conversation between Uncle Bob, David and me.  He I don’t even remember what he was responding to, but Jacob retorted to somebody,

                “Nuh uh.  Sometimes if I have trouble on my homework, he’ll yell and hold me up against the wall by my neck.”

                “Jacob.” Three things happened at once.  Number one, I snapped to attention, silencing my brother with one word.  This was not the place, and beyond the wrong time.  Number two, David’s arm tensed around me, not squeezing me, but locking me where I was.  Something was wrong.  Number three, I cracked it.

                “Do I want to know?” asked Uncle Bob.  Years later, he didn’t even remember the conversation, much less his guarded response to what may or may not have been a joke or an exaggeration.

                “No, it’s nothing….” I trailed off, waving my hand in Jacob’s direction.  The crack grew.  David’s arm relaxed again then fell off my shoulder.  Something was definitely wrong.

                “It’s getting late.  Think you want to take me home?”  I had driven David out to the island, with the assumption that he would just find somewhere at the house to sleep that night, but I guess not.  David bid goodbye to all of the uncles and aunts, all of the cousins and third nieces and nephews twice removed, hugged my Jackie and Jacob, and followed me out to the driveway.

                I drove.  It was my mom’s minivan, a bright red gigantic beetle with butt warmers.  Convenient, I was chilly.  We rode down the gravel driveway in silence.  We made it almost to the bridge before he crushed it.

                “What the hell was that, Kelly?”

                It didn’t sound like a question.  It was a statement.  The ‘what’ was simply a courtesy, a formality in telling me that I did something wrong.  But I knew what I did, and I stood by it.

                “You know as well as I do that nothing good would have come out of Jacob telling Bob any of that.  All it would do is cause animosity where nothing would be done.”

                “No, I don’t.  I don’t know why you know that either.  I thought this was just you not knowing how and when to get it out, but f**k, Kelly, you had an out.  Right there!  And he was trying to talk!  You shut him up!”

                I shut him up.  Oh God.  I hated this.  What are we even talking about?  This isn’t real.  That rat b*****d did not just ooze his way into my real life.

                “David, it wouldn’t have done anything.  It wouldn’t have changed anything.  I am still watching out for them, I’m still doing exactly what I did.  They’re fine.  They will be fine.  I’m fine, Katie’s fine, they’ll be fine.  They’re just like me and Katie, except they’ve got me to watch out for them.  And I’m doing a better job.  They’ll be completely normal, just like me!”
                He started shouting.  “You’re not normal, Kelly!  You’re not ok!  You never have been!  Aren’t you worried that this will mess with them?  What about Jackie?  How can you be sure that he didn’t�"”

                “Don’t you dare.”  I didn’t have to yell back.  He knew the second that sentence fought its way past his lips that he had gone too far.  He backed down.

                “Kelly, you need help.  You need to call somebody and do something.  I can’t do this anymore.”  He shook his head and dropped his hands.

                Snap.  I tensed to attention.  I felt trapped.  This was wrong.  Fight, Jensen.

                “So, you’re telling me if I don’t call the police, or a shrink or something, for something that ended a damn decade ago, you’re going to just, leave me?”

                Quieter, “Kelly, I’m not giving you an ultimatum, I’m breaking up with you.”

                Shatter.  That crack, I hadn’t felt it earlier, but I felt it shatter.  My eyes instantly welled, but something somewhere still tried fighting.  I have no idea what I yelled.  I have no idea what he yelled.  I’m pretty sure it was nothing.  I’m pretty sure I broke down, I’m pretty sure he kept yelling.

                Soon we arrived at his apartment.  He slumped out of the van.  My fighter was transformed.

                “Please, baby, don’t do this.  You’re not thinking straight, you’re upset.  I’m sorry.  I’ll talk to a shrink, I’ll file a report, anything, baby, please!”

                He walked inside, coldly.  He let me follow, reluctantly.

                More begging.  More shouting.  I’m on the floor.  Oh honey, oh Kelly, please get up.  I pull off my necklace and thrust it up towards him and scream, “What about this?  What about the ring?  Don’t they mean anything to you?”

                “Of course they do! But damnit Kelly, you’re not who I thought you were!  You don’t care!  You claim to love them so much and do so much for them, but you can’t even save yourself!  How can you even pretend to save them?”

                Some strange noise escapes me, my eyes clench shut and my hands cover my ears.  I’m backed into the corner, like a child, sobbing.  I shriek, “I don’t know what to do!  I don’t know how to do this!  This isn’t some new discovery for me, like it is for you!  This is my entire life!  You’re asking me to change my entire life!”

                He’s against the wall now, crying as well.  I wonder for whom.

                Softer now, “I don’t know what to do.  It just isn’t that simple.  I’m sorry.  Please.  Try to understand.”

                He grabs my arms and pulls me up and into him, burying his face in my collarbone and sobbing.  I envelop him, clutching his back muscles and pressing my face as hard as I can into his chest.  I reel in the scent of his Old Spice and the texture of his skin, just in case.

                After a minute, he pulls me back, grabs my face and kisses my forehead, hard.  He holds my head there, his lips on my head for a while longer.  I don’t protest.

                “I love you, Kelly,” He whispered, not moving his face away from mine.

                “I love you too.”
                He pulled away, looked at me, then at the floor.  His eyes still burning, he spilled, “I just don’t know what to do either.  You have to understand, this is just as complicated for me as it is for you.  I love you, and I love those kids.  This is all so simple from anyone else, black and white.  But this is you.  And them.  And, you’re right, it’s so complicated.  I just can’t stand to watch you being chiseled down, I can’t handle your nightmares, I can’t handle the kids living with him, and I can’t handle my nightmares.”

                I had nothing I could say.  But I had to go.  It was after midnight.  With half of the entire Brotherton family staying at my parents’ house, this was hardly the time to be breaking curfew and expect to walk away without an explanation.  I couldn’t give one.  I looked at the necklace clenched in my fist.  It was a thin silver chain, a diamond shaped sapphire surrounded by tiny minimum wage diamonds.  His little sister had told me that he dragged her to the mall and made her hunt around with him for the perfect necklace and ring set: a ring for the promise, and a necklace that I could wear everywhere.  I handed him the necklace and told him I had to go.  This one he understood.  He cupped my chin, in that horribly Casanova way of his, and brushed his lips against mine.

                “I’m sorry,” he said.

                “I know.”
                We were un-shattered.

 

                On the way home there was no singing in the van.  There was no radio.  There was no stoic silence in which I contemplated my life.  There were tears.  There were shrieks and curses and slamming on the steering wheel and with an ounce less of luck, likely a multi-car pileup.  I rolled into the driveway and pulled myself together.  This was my element.

                I walked in the door to find Mom, her siblings and in-laws chatting over coffee.  They greeted me with a smile and waved me into the conversation.  I respectfully declined and said I was heading for bed.  Aunt Trisha chimed in with a goodnight and “It was nice to see David again, to get to know him a little better and all.”

                I smiled and agreed, trying not to feel the cracked and empty space where my necklace used to lie.