Page 58 of Lavender Moon

“Have the day you deserve,” I mumble to myself in dismissal of the conversation before I climb behind the wheel and secure my to-go cup in the cup holder.

My Thursday only gets better from there. Some jackass stole the last parking spot in the lot closest to the campus when I got to school, leaving me no choice but to park six blocks away. I don’t mind walking, but it’s awkward and exhausting when you’re schlepping a large portfolio bag on a time constraint. From there, my classes were only okay which is sad and disappointing. Normally, learning new ways to create beautiful pieces is where I come to life… but my mind has been with Kaleb lately. When we talk, he acts so easygoing, as if trudging around deadly terrain is just another day at the office for him, which in a sense, it is, I guess. But he’s holding back, I know he is.

I feel like I’ve been back at that night at the lake for the last couple of weeks. Kaleb is once again trying to protect me from his truths for fear of what it would do to me. I know better than to push, because he’s shown me in the past that he’ll push back, but I’m a double-sided coin flipping through the air right now. The man I married is someone I know better than anyone else, yet in some ways he’s a stranger. I guess I should feel good about being the one person he’s at least let partway in and not shut out completely, but some greedy, entitled part of me wants to be the one he lets in all the way.

I kept my promise to him. I told him when Carter tried something, but it was different than when he was still home. He felt some semblance of control when he was near me. But what benefit did it have telling him when he’s a million miles away? It was like pouring gasoline on a barely contained fire. He’s already in what has got to feel like some kind of alternate plain; a realm of terror and danger, and it gave him one more thing to feel powerless against.

The brush strokes on my canvas were nothing more than colorful blobs in watercolor class today, refusing to take on any kind of life, and I know it’s because my inspiration is clouded out of worry for Kaleb. I can feel it in the tone of his emails, and every time we get the chance to video chat, his eyes look a shade darker and his face more hardened. We’re both still so young, yet his eyes look like they’ve seen several lifetimes. And though he’s affectionate as ever and tries to keep our interactions light, I can see the undercurrent of frustration and uneasiness flowing just beneath the surface.

This annoying black cloud follows me around the rest of the day, through every class, and sure enough, my pottery project that I was already struggling with goes to shit, and I have to scrap it. Clearly, molding clay is not my niche in the art world, but I want to get a damn passing grade, and after some pleading with my professor, she agrees to let me have use of the studio after hours to try and construct something that will at least accomplish that.

With no one else around, I’m able to employ my go-to method and put on some music. Before I start, I grasp onto my wedding rings that dangle from the chain around my neck and take a few breaths, trying to expel the toxic energy and reset my mind before tucking them back inside my shirt. With a chill indie mix droning in the background with a few hits from my uncle’s band thrown in, I’m able to somewhat zone out and create a vase – I know, how basic can I get? While the object itself is pretty plain, I’m able to use my real talent and etch an intricate design wrapping around it. I’m hoping the alternating rows of looping ivy and swirling paisleys will be impressive enough to pass me on this project, and that I can hopefully get my shit together for the next one.

It’s late when I put my completed project carefully on the shelf with the other submissions, and after the long trek back to my car, I’m just not feeling the hour drive back to Coyote Creek. While I yearn to get back so that I can wake up already there tomorrow, I’m exhausted and decide to head to my apartment for the night.

The sixteen stairs feel like Mt. Everest as I trudge slowly up them, and I dig through my bag for my key when I reach the summit. I think I hear something as I stick the key in the lock and I still, listening hard. The door at the bottom of the door slams closed, confirming I’m not delirious enough to be hearing things. I feel a quick pang of anxiety and it eases slightly when I remember there’s three other studio apartments down this hallway, and it’s likely one of the other occupants. My relief is short-live however, when I see who’s steadily approaching up the stairs; a casual smile in place, and eyes fixed on me.

24

LUNA

“Carter?” His name falls from my lips in a shudder.

“Hey,” he says sweetly with a slow blink as if we’ve just been innocently missing each other all this time and he finally caught up to me. I, on the other hand, feel every bit of me cringing against my racing pulse. My face warms over as I try to keep it neutral while I inwardly panic.

I want to ask him why he’s here, but the words won’t come. Besides, I don’t need an answer. I need to get away from him as fast as possible. I anxiously deliberate if I can turn the key in my lock and throw myself inside fast enough to shut the door on him, or if I can dial 9-1-1 on my phone quicker. I grip the strap of my backpack harder as I turn slightly towards my door, trying to conceal my other hand reaching for my phone in my back pocket.

“Surprise,” he holds his hands out, a smile of relief on his face, again, like he hadn’t controlled me with mental abuse for the better part of a year, and forged my rejection letter from my school. Like we just got in a little tiff and he was being the bigger person, generously giving me space. “I’ve had the hardest time getting a hold of you,” he relays softly with a small smile like we’ve been playing a little game of cat and mouse.

I still have no response as I grip my phone in my hand, still trying to figure out a way to discreetly dial for help as I swallow around the lump in my throat. Who would’ve ever thought that those puppy dog eyes that once made me swoon would terrify me now as he gives them a light-hearted roll. “Okay, I knew you’d be surprised to see me, but I didn’t think you’d be speechless,” he laughs as he takes a few steps closer.

“You shouldn’t be here,” the words come out hoarse and quivery.

His shoulders drop with a sigh and he halts his advancement. “Luna,” he begins and I can hear the effort it’s taking for him to keep his voice steady. “I know I messed up big time with you, and I backed off and gave you what you wanted. You’re at your fancy art school, and I gave you more than enough time to cool down, but I didn’t think we were done forever or that we’d never talk again.” He shakes his head incredulously, and I feel an appalling sense of disbelief pull and twist my facial features.

“There’s no reason we can’t reconnect,” he states, stunning me further. “It was a mistake. I can be forgiven for a mistake, Luna.”

My fear is slowly but surely starting to give way to anger at his audacity. “It… was a vile form of betrayal, Carter,” I manage to get more words out by using the sheer force of my diaphragm, “on top of the ways you were already controlling and manipulating me.”

He huffs out another sigh as if I’m exasperating him, and he blinks hard. “I know it looked that way, but I was giving our relationship my all, and I’d occasionally get a little pissed off when you wouldn’t put in the same effort. But I get it now, and if you’ll give it another chance, I’ll show you.”

“No,” I vigorously shake my head. “No, Carter. After what you did, you don’t get to be in my life anymore. I didn’t even go to the cops, you should be thankful that leaving was all I–”

“No, you should be thankful!” he cuts me off, leaning into my space, his voice tight and laced with acid. “You should be thankful that you had someone who loved you like I did, who gave up his nights out with his friends to be with you. Who would buy you flowers and gifts just to show you how much you were adored, and all the thanks you could show was talking about going away to pursue your little hobby!”

I lean away from his angry face and hold up a finger. “Carter, please, this is why I don’t want you near me.” I hate the tremble in my voice, and right now, I’m thinking about how angry Kaleb was when I told him Carter sent me flowers. I can’t even imagine how livid he would be right now, and I want it. I want him here to protect me.

“I’m sorry.” Carter’s shoulders rise and fall with his heavy breathing as he shakes his head like he doesn’t know what just came over him. “Luna, I’m sorry…” he pushes a hand through his hair and turns his back, pacing. I take that moment to bring my phone in front of me and unlock the screen with my face before he turns back around and I turn back to the lock at my door. “Luna, no… please.” He hurries the few steps back over to me, holding his hand out. “Please don’t go, I didn’t mean to get like that. It’s just… don’t you see what you do to me? That’s how much I love you, and I even loved you enough to let you go! Why can’t you just stay and listen to me? Give me a chance?”

He’s losing stability, his control slipping away. This is how he would get in the past before he’d really start yelling; throwing things or backing me into a corner while he punched the wall beside me.

“I did what I did because I didn’t want you to leave me,” he grumbles out, trying to stay calm, but I can hear the slight tremor in his voice, and see it in his fingertips as he curls them into a fist at his side. “Doesn’t that mean something?” he beckons, a small waver of desperation in his tone.

I stare back at him, willing my eyes not to mist over with fear. I know telling him the truth would be a mistake in this moment; that his so-called devotion meant something alright. It meant how selfish he was.

“And then, just like the saying goes…” he continues, this time taking on a snide tenor, “I loved you so I let you go, just like you wanted, but you didn’t come back did you? You were supposed to come back!” He snaps through clenched teeth.

“Carter, I want you to leave.” I give my phone another squeeze in my hand behind me and grip my shoulder strap again, trying to ward off the terror coursing through my veins.

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