BABY GIRL
Chapter 2
Peter was at the stove stirring a large cast iron pot. He seemed so far, even though he was standing feet away from him. Increasingly he was in a different world than he was. He didn't know how to explain it to Peter. He didn't understand it himself. It was like a stone inside him.
"I was just about to come and check on you." Peter said.
"Oh," Neal nodded.
"I hope you're hungry. Got to keep your energy up." He lifted a large wooden spoon and a drop of steaming liquid fell back into the pot. Peter came forward grinning affectionately with the spoon in hand. The same large competent hands that lifted him from the cage.
"Here, taste this. What do you think? Need salt?"
"Umm," he felt sick as the liquid ghosted over his tongue, it had bits of carrots and onions in it. He wished he could be hungry, he knew he wouldn't be able to eat it salt or not.
"Maybe salt," he said as Peter watched him, smiling.
"Good. El would have my head if I ruined her stew."
He knew Peter would always go on being his friend, no matter how much he disappointed him. He stepped back, shamed.
"What?"
"Nothing. How long till it's done?"
"Another hour at most. Why?"
"I think I'll go for a walk." He couldn't bare one more moment of disappointing him.
Peter knew how hard being confined now was for Neal. He could see it in his face, in his body. He could see him disappearing every day, retreating to some incomprehensible refuge. Looking at him with nostalgia as if he was something past. He closed his eyes, then opened them slowly. He had opened the door to Neal and like a beautiful tornado he turned his world inside out and upside down. He thought then he was doing him a kindness, protecting him, while all the while he was saving himself. He never felt more alive since Neal came into his life. He never felt more afraid.
"I'll come with you. I could use a stretch."
"Thanks, but I'd like to be alone, clear my head. I'll be much better company when I get back."
"Neal," he says.
"Yes, Peter."
"Take this. It's your thermal vest. You'd be so surprised how fast it can get cold out here."
Peter wondered what it took to dismantle a life. He wasn't there, but he was here now and he'd be damned if they would take any more from him. He needed Neal to tell him how to make it right.
Neal took the vest and headed for the doorway, but stopped at the threshold. He could feel it reaching out to him, drawing him back to everything he had left behind. Peter's force field, unbidden but expected. He wanted to protect him from the horrors of the world. He wasn't there.
Peter imagined he could escape paying for all the things he'd stolen, all the second chances he gave away like gifts free of charge. He was wrong. There was a price to be paid. He deserved it. It was long overdue. When they lifted him from the cage, he braced himself for it. He waited on the pain, and when it didn't come he collapsed into shadow…ashes. He turned and looked at Peter.
"I'm sorry, you know."
"Sorry for what?" Peter said softly.
"Sorry for hurting you."
Peter searched Neal's face for some sign of life; something, anything that once belonged to him. He feared whether his wildly confident and boisterous love of life would ever return to him. He couldn't go on like this forever. He would have burned down the house right there on the spot if Neal asked him. If only he would ask him for something, anything. He thought he could always tell when Neal was lying. He knew a lie. That's different from knowing the truth. Now that Neal had stopped lying, he felt lost.
Neal slipped on the red thermal vest and walked out the door. Peter let him go. He wanted to say you are still you. Come back to us. Instead he said "Don't stay out too long. It looks like snow." He turned back to his pot just in time as it came to a boil.
Peter…solid, straight and confident in his goodness. Turns out, Peter was the better confidence man. Work hard, swing for the fences, anything was possible. Peter sold hope and he took the deal with both hands. He let it rise in him like a burning sun and lull him to sleep in the moonlight with dreams long forgotten. Hope put down tender roots. He let it fall on him like rain. It had all gone wrong somehow. He had done everything wrong. He never meant to hurt anyone and in the end he had hurt everyone.
He felt baffled and confused, as if he tumbled into a dream and waking up wasn't an option. His heart hurt. He couldn't tell if it was his real heart or his dream heart. He walked on, the woods were silent. He reached the clearing, but continued to walk as the last light of the day went. All he could hear was his own uneven breathing as the snow fell and kept on falling.