Page 10 of Wall

Pity fills his eyes. “It’s been years, my friend.”

I shrug. “I ain’t got nothin’ else goin’ on. I’ll wait.”

He strokes his bushy-ass beard. “I guess I don’t get it.”

So, I put it in terms he can understand. “You know that Bobber you and Charge rehabbed when you was kids?”

He grins. “Of course.”

“It’s a rusted piece of shit. You ever gonna junk it?”

His grin widens. “Nope. It’s gonna take up space in the garage, and you assholes are gonna bitch about it forever.”

“Yup.” My point’s made.

Heavy rubs his hands and blows on them. He ain’t wearin’ gloves, and the temperatures gone down a good ten degrees. “Did you just compare to your ex to a ‘rusted piece of shit?’”

“She ain’t here. I stand by it.”

He chuckles, dips his chin, and heads back for the clubhouse. We’ve managed to get a good distance from civilization. When the sound of his boots fade, the silence swells until there’s almost a weight to it.

Mona would like it out here. She ain’t exactly outdoorsy—I never could get her to go camping—but if there’s a public restroom nearby, she loves bein’ outside. I took her to Lake Patonquin and hiking along the Luckahannock many times.

I rub my chest. I miss her. Every day, but especially times like this when there’s something pretty to see. Mona’s got a round face, plain brown hair. She doesn’t like her nose, thinks it’s too pointy. She doesn’t like her eyebrows, either. Or her chin for some reason. Her mother did a number on her, convincing her that she ain’t much to look at.

She’s gorgeous, though. Her body’s smokin’ hot. And when she sees something pretty, and she smiles? Her whole damn face lights up. Everybody around can’t help but smile, too. Most beautiful thing I ever saw.

It took me no time at all to ruin that smile, to make it so I never get to see it shinin’ at me again.

One night. One hour. Not even. More like twenty minutes, truth be told.

You ever watch a kid spend forever stacking blocks, and then he knocks it over? That look on his face ‘cause he can’t quite believe you can ruin something with such a small fraction of the effort it took to build it?

I think about that a lot. How little intent and forethought it takes to destroy things.

But honestly? The sad truth is Mona’s smiles were few and far between long before the night I fucked everything up. The losses broke her before I did.

We started trying for a baby as soon as I landed the job with the Shady Gap Fire Department. I’m one of five—big, happy Catholic family—and Mona’s an only child. A lonely one, the way she tells it. We wanted a full house.

I got her pregnant the first month of trying. We called the little guy Peanut. And we lost him—or her—at ten weeks.

We tried again. Bam. Pregnant. We lost Jellybean at eight weeks. I said we should take a break. Give her body a rest. But before we made any concrete decision, she was expecting again. And third time’s a charm, right?

We cleared the twelve-week mark. Mona’s smile started peeking out again here and there. We started calling the baby Lemon after the size chart at the obstetrician, found out she was a girl at the ultrasound. We lost her right after, over Labor Day weekend. Almost eighteen weeks.

Mona broke. She’d been bouncing back, and then one day, she just stayed down. And for the life of me, I couldn’t figure out how to get her back up again.

Then, I did what I did. I wasn’t the kid who knocked the blocks over. I was the kid who crushed the block under his boot.

It ain’t an easy thing to live with. Knowing that about yourself. That you done that to a person. The woman you loved. That you could then sink even lower.

I sniff and take a gander around. It’s growing late, and even with the snow’s reflection, it’s getting hard to see through the undergrowth. Maybe it’s time to call it a day.

I turn and begin the trek back home. Soon enough, the sun sets, the snow eases off, and a full moon hangs low and bright.

I’m almost back to the clubhouse when my phone rings. I fish it from my bib pocket.

“Yeah?”

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