The line on the telephone stays solid amber yellow and I eat my bananas and finish half of my almost frozen Smartwater pushing it to the edge by nearly creating a frozen headache. I realize I am a dork but my guess is that you do the same thing. At least I admit it.
Ruby makes her customary uh huhs and okays while taking notes on her post-its. When she hangs up, she makes her routine trek into his office. The one where she knocks but doesn't wait for an answer she just opens the door. After a few minutes with her his boots sound with authority as he walks out of his office, pulling on his summer jacket. He never had the white stitching replaced and I never asked. It's unspeakable.
"What ya got?" I ask, standing, waiting for the answer.
"Ah, well." He says, his hands on his hips, and he looks around as if trapping his thoughts.
He looks at Ruby and she offers, "Linda Muldrew called. She's over at the Occidental. Apparently, she is having trouble with her brother and he won't leave the hotel."
Ferg looks up, "Muldrew," his voice raises an octave, "As in Muldrew?"
"Yup." He says and he looks over at me for a moment and I see it, I know I see it, but I don't want it to register but it does and I feel it in my heart and for a moment it stops. It stops beating.
"Walt." I say a little louder than I should as that bit of suspiciousness takes center stage in my tone.
Ruby glances then her eyes avert toward Ferg.
He looks at me, longer this time, and his jaw twists and his lips smack. He doesn't turn away this time, instead he walks toward his office, and again I follow him because I know that's what he is asking. It's in his eyes.
I stand, arms across my chest, you know my classic defensive pose.
"You want to tell me what's going on."
He stops mid-office, his hand flows up and his finger points "Close the door." He's asking. His voice is soft. The sun catches the ring on his finger.
I already know.
He looks down at his hand like he does sometimes and he stares at the back of his knuckles as he opens and closes his fingers. It's in these moments where I suspend belief and tell myself that self-reflection is normal. I wait, and look at the matching black tungsten band on my finger. He picked tungsten, said it would last a lifetime in the field, didn't want to take it off when he worked. It was only after we were married that he said we could pass our rings down to our kids. You know the kids we never discussed. The kids we don't have.
"Linda was Martha's best friend. They grew up together." He says while I am mid-daydream. He pauses and brushes his hand across his clean-shaven face.
"You mean you all grew up together."
He smiles, "Yeah, I suppose we did."
"Ok." I say as if he had to repeat third grade.
He looks out onto the square then back at me and flashes his hand once again absorbing the precious metal on his finger.
"When Martha progressed with her cancer she was preparing to die." He waits a beat as the raw reality of his past once again steps between us "She didn't want me to be alone."
My hip juts out to maximize my defensive posture.
"She wanted me and uh. Well she…." His voice trails.
"Did you fuck her?" I ask because at the end of this story that's all I really care about and if that makes me shallow and non-sensitive than to hell with it that's what I am.
He looks me at me solidly and steps directly in front of me lacing his hand in mine, "No, never did."
"Did you want to?" This is how curiosity killed the mangy dirty ass cat.
"I thought about it." He's still looking at me. "I didn't want to be alone. I didn't want a lot of things. In the end, though, I didn't."
"Did she want to?" The cat is still dead he used up all 9 lives with the first question.
"Yes." His fingers stay in mine.
"How come I'm just learning about Linda." Of course, I drag her name out.
"Wasn't important."
Quickly, I reassess because he can claim the same right, of hearing about every temptation, or God forbid, every guy. I yield to the warning signs going off in my head.
"Ok." I say.
"It is ok." He reaffirms.
He doesn't let go of my fingers and he pulls me closer.
"Don't be pissed." His voice is just above a whisper and I start to get mad because I notice how sexy his lips are when they move and I can't really concentrate on his words so I don' t respond quick enough and he presses a little closer.
"Vic." His voice is rumbly and of course I key into that instead of my name.
"What?" I ask.
"I don't want anyone else. I'm in love with you." His lips part into a reticent grin.
"I know." I tighten my fingers, "but it doesn't stop her from wanting or even loving you." Another fact.
I'm pretty sure I don't sound like a crazy insecure bitch and funny I don't think I am but all those things still don't equal stupid. You know the other thing they don't equal? They don't equal the ghost that keeps revisiting.
He looks down and pulls our hands up to his waist looking at our fingers twisted together and I realize that he's there, in my head, in my heart, and he kisses the back of my hand.
"I never thought to tell you."
"It's ok. Really." Right now, talking to him, standing this close, in this space, I know I mean it.
He kisses my fingertips.
"I never expected to see her again, Vic.' He kisses my cheek.
"We don't have secrets, remember." Reminding me, he kisses my lips.
"I trust you."
His head cants to the side, expecting any answer, except the one that I gave and he smiles a little wider this time. "Come with me."
He reaches up and moves the hair off of my neck, the little whispies that always fall onto my collar and he kisses the side of my mouth.
"Walt, you better go" I tell him because I've been rendered utterly powerless.
His fingers stay on my neck and I feel the gentle flick of my hair moving off to the side and I kiss him because I can. He's mine I tell myself. He invites me in and his entire body is warm.
"We are seriously breaking the rules." I whisper in his ear.
"I know." He says. "I can't help it."
"Me, neither" and I kiss his Adam's apple and he tastes good.
"Did you change your aftershave?" My eyebrows crunch together.
He shakes his head, "Nope."
"You smell…you smell so good." My body reacts.
The phone rings and it breaks our spell.
"Go." I all but order him.
He doesn't' let go of my fingers, "Come with me." He really means it.
"Let me get my jacket."
It's just any other call I tell myself as we head to the Occidental.
It is only a few blocks but we drive just in case we have to transport a prisoner back to the station. One of the small realities of police work. You never really know.
We get a block away and he says out of the blue, "You're more beautiful than usual and really that's saying something." He smiles and I smile and I look at him then out of the window at the small town landscape that holds so many memories and secrets.
"Thank you" I reply and tell him, "You aren't so bad yourself you know." His face tinges with pink and he winks. I want to jump his bones right here in the Bronco in the middle of the street. I think I've lost my mind. This is not how we behave. I can barely keep my hands off of him, my thoughts are another story, because I am consumed with him and it takes me back to Sean. It takes me back to how we used sex to make-up for what was broken. It's one of our rules. It's one of the facts of our marriage that we won't use sex to make-up what's wrong. We deal with the wrong.
We take our respective sides of door number 9 and Walt knocks, the official Sheriff's knock, "Linda, its Walt Longmire, open the door."
I saw her silky raven hair first, then her olive color skin, then the tear stained cheeks. Fuck me.
"You okay?" He asks, "Where's John?"
"He left" she sniffles "a few minutes ago."
She looks at me but I don't matter as she falls into his arms and sobs. He holds her, as he should, as I expect him to but it doesn't mean I'm good with it.
"I'm gonna check the room." Stepping past them, Walt holds his eyes on me and his face flattens out like he's trying to apologize. It means nothing he is saying without words.
"Ah, Linda." He presses his palms to her shoulders. "Linda."
I clear the small room, closet, and bathroom in a moment's time.
He gets her attention. She looks up at him with big brown beautiful doe eyes.
"Linda, this is Vic." His palm is open, looking toward me, and then squarely back at her.
"Vic is my wife."