Page 13 of Just a Plot Twist
The look she gives me, one of relief that I’m leaving, makes up my mind for me, so I sling my little bag over one shoulder and take a step to leave. “I’ll, a…see you soon. At the top.”
I can’t force her to accept my help, although I have a feeling she will eventually have to.
I don’t believe that she can make it in the state she’s in. My dad—my adoptive dad, Joe—was a champion for and helper of women. Even for all his kindness to my mom, for all his fussing over her, he knew when to back off, to listen to her needs, and support what she thought was best.
So, that’s what I’m going to do. I’m going to let Ms. Claire Lawson be independent. She wants to be left alone, so I’ll leave her alone.
I continue hiking up the trail, getting glimpses of the sunrise through the trees.
My parents were in their late thirties when they adopted me from my biological mother, Ellen Rantz, who was a teen when I was born. My divorce was final almost thirteen months ago. At that point, at the lowest moment of my life thus far, my dad had already been gone—cardiac arrest—for two years. Mom lasted another nine months without him before she had a stroke and passed away. And then, Ellen died shortly after my mom.
Three deaths in two years. And then a divorce.
My brain freezes up and my throat starts to close. I can’t take a deep enough breath. It’s maddening. Impossible.
My parents, Leila and Joe, were aunt and uncle to Ellen, and it was an open adoption, rare for those days. She was involved in my life as much as she could be.
But they’re gone now.
So much loss, and then my wife leaving me and splitting custody of Dax and Indie a year ago.
It takes its toll.
Loss is common. We all lose people we love, but my sense of loneliness has been acute, despite connecting with the Tate family.
I haven’t fully belonged to anything or anyone in a long time. Dax and Indie love me, I love them, and we get along great, but they have a stepdad. They like him, and he treats them well. They have a core family they belong to now.
I…don’t.
As I make my way up the trail alone, I’m in my head about it, remembering something Danica used to say during the divorce.He never fought for me.
My throat clogs at that memory. I feel like I fought for her the entire time we were married, up until she left. But maybe I didn’t do enough.
Danica was restless. She said herself she got married too quickly—we were too young. She’d been telling me for years she made a mistake when she married me.
Should I have fought harder for us to make it work?CouldI have fought harder?
I don’t miss Danica like I used to. I’m not tormented with all the “could have beens” like I was. Danica sometimes comments on how we’re better people now that we’re divorced. Still, the divorce might always haunt me in some way or another.
Did I give up on Claire just now? Stubborn Claire who pushed me away and made it clear she wanted nothing to do with me, like Danica did when she filed for divorce?
Am I missing something? Was I back then?
I doubt I’ll ever know.
I reach the top in minutes. With how steep it gets at the end, it would have been impossible for Claire to make it up here with an injured ankle. The woman’s delusional if she thinks she can.
Al, the trail guide, in his wide brimmed hat, smiles when I reach the crowd of people at the top. He consults his clipboard before speaking up. “So you’re Benson, right? Is there a woman named Claire back there? She’s the only person I haven’t seen up here yet.”
“She hurt her ankle. She’s resting about ten minutes down right now.”
“You left her?” The guide’s shaggy, white eyebrows rise in the air.
“Yeah, well, I wasn’t going to, but she insisted. She didn’t want me waiting around.”
“Still, it probably wasn’t good to leave her. You had to have known we’d all be heading down in a few minutes anyway.”
I want to say to him,Have you ever interacted with someone who doesn’t want your help or advice? Who doesn’t want you near them?
