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Show Moon - 247 "I had to drive into Bend to the clinic, thought Td pass out. It's my right arm. I can't work. I can't even cook. My arm is in a cast straight up to here. I didn't get to finish the plans for our new room." I imagine him at the table by our window that looks out on the Three Sisters. He sits there next to my unfinished painting, maybe with a cup of coffee he's managed to brew, unable to do much of anything, even draw up plans. He's been on the phone all morning cancelling jobs. Earlier, he must have thrown hay to Windfall, one small flake at a time, probably against considerable pain. All right; it's time, I say, "You were right. There are things I haven't told you. But I will." He is silent, but I hear an indrawn breath. "Til be on a plane tomorrow. I'll call as soon as I have the arrival time. Can you drive? Can you meet me?" "Thank God." He pauses. "Of course I can meet you." His voice is clogged. I won't say anything about it. Maybe it's sometimes necessary that a man needs to hide his tears. Lisa has gone somewhere, perhaps for a walk around the lake. Lee plays a song he's just written. It's called "Safe Harbor," and is a poignant version of my story, of everyone's story, the story of needing a home. He's gifted, and I ache for him, for he's set up for the heartbreak of being an artist. Caleb stays close to me as we walk to my car. His green eyes squint a little, and I think he wishes there was more we could have said. I say good-bye to my brothers. We do good long hugs. I haven't said anything to them about the possibility of a child, just told them after the doctor that I was fine. I haven't told them how I've danced around the rim of suicide. My brothers are sad children of a world we've |
