Historical Newspapers of South Carolina

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EVENTS Scott Carpenter and The Real McCoys, tonight at The New Brookland Tavern. Call 791-4413 for more information. Monday, April 26, 1999 mini her by ^Rob Einbscy, 'Erin 'Reeb Tobb Money, 'Keniey 'Young i 'Kev7[n Eangston A cold night, crisp and bitter, slipped its stinging fingers between John's coat and collar and knit cap as he waited, staring at the house with a grim, downcast posture. She was in there wrapped in blankets, rapt in something secret. He would wait only seven minutes. That had been the agreement, after all. But as she lay there, the usual feelings swept through her body like an electric shock. John felt it, too, as he reluctantly plodded toward that stark house, through the tall weeds and brambles that strangled the back yard. He found strange comfort in the sound of dead leaves crumbling beneath his feet. To him, the leaves were still making their impact long after their end. He liked this idea. It stayed with him as he approached the door. With just a quick sidelong glance at the doorbell, he tried the knob, which turned, and he stepped silently inside, out of the cold and into the electric air of the hallway. John's chilled fingers worked the buttons of his coat clumsily. He was so hot all of a sudden. When he turned to close the door, his hand coaxed a static shock from the hv% /\l\ J U /-? 1 /m 14- n n*v%nll / 4-V* /m i /rVi 4-/\a 1 rvi i J \ O/M i ~r~\ /J lUiuu, cuiu lie let uut a oiiiaii vtiiuugii tuu luuuy duuiiu of surprise. The sound jerked her out of her secrets, the blankets falling off her shoulders, and she dropped the pen that had exposed her on paper, leaving off with the word "RUIN." What was he doing here? She had told him she .couldn't bear to be around him ? not now, not when he was like this. A flurry of thoughts and possibilities raced through her head. 'What will he say when I hand him this paper? No. no. What will he do?" she wondered. "Will he accept it? Will he understand? Or will he attack?" Attack, like he did last winter. She ran her thumb and index finger over the scar hidden under her thick black matted hair. She remembered John's eyes, how that big vein in his neck had looked as if it would burst that day. She remembered what ultimately had exhausted his patience. She remembered. John made his way through the living room. The walls emitted the familiar smell of the fireplace. Its smoke once curled about the two. Back when they were one. Back when everything was right. In the months since, they had grown apart. They could never recapture that. Not now. John's feet were heavy with burden as he passed by the mirror above the fireplace. Something was missing from his reflection. He could see his loss in the lines of his warm face. He could see it in his empty eyes. They stared back at this person who is now a fraction of what he once was. He caught himself blinking, and he continued through the room. He knew where she was. She could see John climbing the stairs, paralleling her anxiety. He knew that just behind the door, she awaited him. She jerked upright with a slight surprise at the somewhat clumsy scuffing of his feet outside her bedroom. As she sat up, a sharp pain pierced her side. "Up too quick," she thought, gingerly swinging her legs off the bed. The doorknob to the bedroom was warm in his hand when he opened the door. And, looking past the inswinging door, John's eyes caught hers, or, rather, were trapped by hers. She was standing upright beside the bed, her robe absent-mindedly draped over the night table. A coffee mug lay overturned on the floor, and she was standing in a spreading pool of liquid on the hardwood floor. His eyes were on her stomach. The three-inch scar Hnwn nnp side like a row of iewels shinier than the smooth skin around it, shot a sullen lump to the back of his throat, and a cold tear cut a deep river of memories down his hot cheek, thinking. "I couldn't make it," he said, his shaking voice betraying any appearance of composure. "It wouldn't have mattered," she replied. "I did it without you." J c * tic. The Gamecock wb - . // <' / Sm s 9 '"v 3 9 < ' ' M ' . > / & "But you've done something else. You went outside our agreement," he said, staring intensely at the scar pi that revealed more than it should have. And only then tl did she become aware of her nakedness. tt John noticed. All he saw was the cut. and all he w could think of was what he knew would happen next. h< "Well, don't just stand there, you idiot, come on! We've got to get you out of here! It's not worth the risk at anymore!" H It was a pathetic attempt at harshness. John's pi words, intended to be coarse, were pregnant with le much more compassion than he had cared to reveal, w He swallowed hard, and the naked girl noticed the H lump as it rose and fell heavily in John's throat. His sentiment surprised her. So he had innocent intentions after all, despite his desire. la But why was he being so tender? It seemed to her tt as if John were the helpless party, his pitiful, hungry w stare burning on her creamy, ivory skin and her frag- H ile, inviting frame. "Oh, Lucy. This is too much!" John's hi voice quivered. "How can I..." He tried to continue, but the words stuck in his 11 throat. And he turned away. He felt his will, his lil gentlemanly restraint, beginning to falter. tt But in the corner of his eye, he saw it. He had not tt seen it since that first night. He remembered lying K there that night and thinking of her. a* ? 10 itr, , i 01 ir M* ilsSK^^HHPaJHp Bft^nBlKm. .^HhUBL 5) - Up^ gc I t SITE OF THE PAY National School Safety Center. http://www.nsscl.org Page 5 < ^ _ mm II fp fll He had wanted to be with her, but he never could -esume. John had no reservations when he dropped Le St. Christopher into the envelope. The line from te song sparked this action. The song and the gift ere connected. The words came back to him when 3 saw tjie chain hanging from the hook. The waltz, the gift, the girl... all came swarming ; once. He staggered to the doorframe and sighed, is back was to her. He could not see her face, her ex^ession. The gift was supposed to fill the gap he would ave. It was supposed to remind her of him. He had anted her to think of him when he was not there, e had wanted her to love him. He had wanted her. He had wanted it to be simnle. But it was too X te. The pendant swayed inperceptibly, but where iere should have been a glint of reflected light, there as nothing, as if the necklace were absorbing light, e took up the necklace and silently gripped it until 3 felt his sweat leach intf) the crevices in the coin. "I just need some sleep, that's all," she said. He lrned back to see her slumped on the bed, weakly fting her robe to cover her chest and legs. Covered, le spell on John was broken. He moved quickly across le room and started cleaning up the coffee with some leenex from the wastebasket. "I had to do it, you know," she said over John's head 5 he cleaned. "The baby took too much from me. I ved her, but I had to do it." He cleaned rapidly, remembering the night they ad fought. Four in the morning had called them wake to the cries of their daughter. "I can't do this aymore," he had whispered to the crying baby as he )cked her to sleep. "My life was so much more before 3U." He had set the sleeping child back in the bassinet ad had started packing. He had walked to the bed, ad gently stroking her hair, he'd called her awake, hrough her groggy eyes, she'd seen him telling her e was leaving her and dropping a shining something a the table. She felt him touching her stomach, tenderly touchlg the Caesarean scar on her side. And she'd seen is long dark coat brush the small shiny thing off the ight table when he had turned, leaving her and er baby and her fallen saint to survive and nothing Ise. She's awakened an hour later to her daughter's des and the realization that he was gone. As she'd :ruggled up through the layers of sleep, she'd sat up nd run after him although he was long gone. On her way, a sharp something had cut her foot, he'd reached down to find John's St. Christopher ivered in her blood. She'd passed out then and hadn't sen her husband since. The child was gone. What ley had once shared was gone. No pendant could ave saved her, and he knew this. Now, in this room in their house, two people tood staring, with only a letter between them. Still clutching the letter in her hand, Lucy held it ut to him with trembling fingers. 'Take it from me. I've finished eveiything," she said 3 him. "No saint can save this." He took the letter from her but hadn't even beun to read it before she bolted out of the room, droping the robe in the doorway. He called after her in ain. She was already downstairs. He ran after her, carrying the unread letter and be useless saint. With each step, he moved closer, as he moved only farther away. She wasn't downstairs. ls a gust of cold air turned his head, he looked to /ard the door. The open trame revealed the tamiliar igure running away from him into the dark, lighting he night with orange flames rising off her body. She /as on fire. John could only stare in confusion. He watched as iucy threw herself down into a pile of dry winter saves, the contagious fire consuming the submissive saves. She was gone, and only this letter could exilain. Unstable, he skipped to the last line. "NO MORE tUIN..." A n a IcioifQc itTCkfCk ctill molnn<T fV\oir* lmnarf Inner liliu IV/U V VVV^IV OtliX tXiV/li XXXX^/UV/t xwxx^ fter their end. He liked this idea. ! S. K