That's a Load of Bull

Patrick stood in the doorway to their bedroom watching her at the window. She looked so serene as the streetlamp below cast shadows of falling snow across her face & gown like some sort of inverse snow globe. He knew that it was an illusion, at best a meditative distraction from what had kept her up all night. Still, he treasured any reprieve, no matter how brief, from the thoughts which had tormented her these past few years & which remained as a constant barrier between the two of them.

And the snow was beautiful, well worthy of such distraction. He had watched for a bit last night, before finally giving in to sleep. Frighteningly heavy & with a fearsome wind that made it feel like five below, he had imagined from his pillow the most magnificently sculptured snowbanks any blizzard had ever accomplished. For such dangerous weather to be capable of producing such beauty! And when the sun would shine, all the world would appear bedazzled.

“When the sun would shine,” he had snorted to himself. According to the weather reports that would be a while. It would be interesting to discover just how he felt after a few more days of this.

The stacks of wedding invitations were still on the table, as neatly piled as before & ready for the mail—with the one lone exception: the solitary card still setting askew in front of the chair where she’d been writing. They’d spent the last several evenings after work trying to get them ready for the mail before the storm hit. But this one was on her. And she still hadn’t decided whether to send it.

He’d never liked the guy. Maybe it was that Heather was still living with him when they’d first met next to the statue of the school mascot—an imposing likeness of a bull ready for battle. Both had stood there, taking in the essence of this school where they were to begin their doctoral work. They had only just introduced themselves when he came up from behind.

It was the only time Patrick had ever met him. Corbin had taken her by the arm & said, “We’d best get inside before they start without us.” He barely acknowledged Patrick with a nod of his head & faux tip of the hat. He was sullen, businesslike & largely mute. Patrick could see the sadness in her eyes, trying to turn to give him a smile & a wave, as Corbin led her away.

That had been more than enough for Patrick to form an opinion of him. There was neither joy nor life nor any hope there. He was arrogant, selfish, manipulative & controlling. But he had not managed to squash the spirit within her. He could still see the spark of hope in her eyes.

Not that he dared share these opinions with her. He’d tried that once. She had immediately come to Corbin’s defense telling him, “You don’t know him & you certainly didn’t know him then. You don’t have the whole story.”

“So tell me, then. Help me to understand what you see in this guy.”

She hadn’t said a word. And she didn’t for another two months. Not to him, anyway.

“Good morning, Espie.” The sound of her voice snapped him back to the present. “Espie” was her pet name for him. Actually, it was “Saint Patrick”, inspired by the fact that she always seemed to catch him trying to do something nice, or right, or good. She would then ask him why he had not yet driven all the snakes from America as surely as he had once done in Ireland. She knew he didn’t like it, said it sounded pretentious, as though he really thought of himself that way. So, she had shortened it to “Espie”, kind of their own inside joke. She still used it to poke fun at him a little, but also to let him know how much she loved him.

It was endearing, & he did find himself endeared.

“Good morning. Couldn’t sleep?”

“No. It’s this damn storm. They say it could last for days & it’s already buried most of the cars out there. I can hardly see the evergreen across the way.”

He knew she was lying. She had been thinking of him & whether she should send the invitation or not. But he had also come to understand that a little white lie to spare another’s feelings should be appreciated, not commented upon.

He walked over to her, wrapped an arm around her waist & turned her toward the window again.

“But you have to admit, it is beautiful out there.”

“Let’s see how you feel about it when the electricity goes out. It’s a miracle we haven’t lost it already.”

“Then we’ll start a fire.” He was a hopeless romantic. They didn’t have a fireplace.

“Seems like you’re already trying to start one, mister,” she chuckled as she began to sense a rising eagerness from him.

He had to admit she was right. He turned her around & kissed her softly on the lips, inviting but not requiring a more intimate response. She kissed him tenderly for several moments, holding him with both hands behind the nape of his neck, letting him know that she appreciated the invitation & most certainly wanted to accept it.

Then, she pulled back & turned her head, covering her mouth with the back of her arm. “I haven’t brushed my teeth yet.”

“Neither have I,” he said with a smile. Drawing her close to him again & gazing deeply into her eyes, not with lust but with intimate longing, he continued, “It doesn’t keep me from wanting a taste of you.”

“Stop that!” she said, lightly slapping his arm. “The neighbors will see,” she lied again, but with a playful look that indicated she was only teasing.

He looked over at the one lonely invitation on the table. “Still haven’t made a decision?”

“No.”

“C’mon,” he said, taking her by the hand. “Let’s move these off the table. We’re not going to be mailing them today anyway. Maybe not even this week. Then you just sit down & let me make breakfast for you. What would you like?”

That sounded like a whole lot more than it was. She normally had a piece of toast & some orange juice, maybe a banana if she was hungry.

“Eggs Benedict, thick sliced bacon & crepes suzette, it is. Coming right up.”

She hadn’t realized how tired she was. She’d been standing at the window for quite a long while & now, sitting down, she felt her head begin to droop. She decided to lay it down before it insisted & crashed into the table.

A few minutes later he returned, waking her with a soft nudge to the shoulder. “Your toast & orange juice, madam, as requested. Would you like any butter, peanut butter, jelly, or jam to go with your breakfast? We have a lovely strawberry preserve.” He was taking his routine a bit far. They never kept jelly in the apartment.

He placed the food on the table & sat down next to her. Taking her hand he said, “C’mon, let’s get some food into you & get you to bed.”

She couldn’t even nod at this point, but she accepted the juice & took a sip while he buttered her toast. He hadn’t brought the peanut butter or strawberry preserves with him & she didn’t have the will to ask. All she wanted was the warmth of his hand back in hers. She took a few bites of the toast & set it down. She finished the juice & held the cool glass, first to her cheek & then to her forehead, before returning it to the table.

He waited a few more moments, then took her hand & helped her up. “Let’s get you to bed.” They stood there together in the breakfast nook, neither of them taking a step. So, he picked her up in his arms. She nestled her head against his shoulder, relishing the warmth of his body & the strength in his arms. She listened for his heartbeat, the sound of his breathing, & felt herself swaddled with a comfortable peace.

He laid her on the bed, arranged the covers, & kissed her forehead. She was asleep before she felt his lips.

He knelt beside her on the floor for a few minutes, watching as she slept. He thought about the first time they had kissed. They had been reading together a passage she had written for her dissertation. She wasn’t quite happy with it, so he had moved his chair next to hers to see if he could help. As he read, he suddenly noticed she was staring at him. He hadn’t realized just how close they were until that moment. He turned to gaze into her eyes, then leaned in.

She had accepted his kiss & returned it, tentatively but also with tenderness. They had kissed for several seconds before she pushed him away & said she couldn’t. She had apologized to him several times as she collected her things & left the library.

The next day she had been crying as she ran & threw herself into his arms. Three weeks later she showed up on his doorstep with a pair of suitcases containing all that she had & asked if she could stay with him for a while.

He returned to the breakfast nook only to be confronted by the box they had just filled with wedding invitations, the one laying at an angle on top.

What was this hold Corbin had over her? Yes, they’d lived together for seven years & dated for almost three before that. At some point, he guessed that they must have been in love. At least she seemed to think so.

He wanted to hate Corbin for making their life so complicated, but somehow he couldn’t. A part of him wondered if he ever lost her, would he end up the same way?

She loved Corbin & probably always would. Patrick knew that. He also knew that it didn’t mean she loved him any less, though knowledge & acceptance were two different things. Attempting to accept her love in duality with her feelings for Corbin was all but a nightmare in which he could never feel secure in their relationship.

He stood up & walked over to the window where she had kept her vigil. His mind drifted back to what had been one of their favorite things during their doctoral work—the times they had shared their progress with other candidates. In honor of the school mascot, when something wasn’t quite working, the rest of the students would call out, “That’s a load of bull!” Heather & he had always managed to catch each other’s eye as they were shouting. They couldn’t help but smile & maybe even blush a little when it happened—except when one of them was the victim. Then it was a simple moment of embarrassment followed by full on laughter & an admission that the other candidates were right.

He wished that at some point they could all shout together & make this go away—Corbin, the snow, his insecurities. He pretended to be calm & brave, at least he tried, but he was worried about all of it. As far as he could tell, the storm had not let up. It might have gotten worse. The large clusters of snowflakes had given way to a much finer snow, but the visibility was much lower. He could see that it was getting light outside, but he could no longer find the evergreen she had mentioned. All he could see were swirling patterns of white.

And it was still supposed to last another two to three days!