The Blessings of the Animals: A Novel - By Katrina Kittle Page 0,10
and intentionally drinking himself too dull to dream. In sleep, a heavy anchor pulled him down in deep green water that he swallowed and choked on. He’d thrash his arms and kick, fighting for the surface, once even knocking the goddamn clock off the nightstand, another time socking her in the face with his elbow, giving her a shiner that cut him to the bone every time he looked at it.
That black eye made him feel like his father.
When he looked down through that green water, it was Cami holding him down. Cami holding his ankles, her jaw set, her nails digging into his skin.
One night, panting from the dream, he whispered in the dark when he was certain she was asleep, “You’re drowning me.” The damn dog whined at him, and Bobby’d had this irrational fear that Max would be able to tell Cami. She was closer to the animals than to him. She saw what they needed and gave it to them. He knew he was a small, coldhearted jackass for being jealous of a gimpy dog and a maimed cat, but there it was. That’s what pulled him down.
He blundered on, desperate for her to know he did love her and didn’t want to hurt her—all that lame-ass shit everyone says—even though he knew it was asinine to think that leaving wouldn’t hurt her. “I couldn’t tell you, Cam,” he said into her knees. “I knew when I told you, I had to be prepared for us to be over. I had to be ready. It took me a long time to be emotionally ready for this.”
The words she said next peeled back his skin. “So, you needed a long time, but you thought I’d be okay with, what? Ten minutes?”
Christ, how could he have said that to her? He should leave before he fucked it up worse.
But Cami wasn’t done. She never knew when to quit. He should’ve known.
In the flash of lightning that lit the room, he watched that funky raspberry-colored pattern crawl over her face like a rash. She flowered like this when she was pissed or embarrassed. And when she came. He knew under that damp, dirty T-shirt her breasts and belly would also be blotched. He knew she hated this trait in herself. He knew so much about her. He knew her.
Then she asked it. “Is there someone else?”
Tell the truth. Just tell the fucking truth. But he couldn’t. “No. No. Don’t think that.”
It threw him when she yelled at him. “Don’t fucking tell me what not to think. What am I supposed to think?” He thought she might hit him, and for a second, he wished she would.
“This isn’t about anyone else.” That isn’t a lie. Not really. We would be over regardless. He remembered a line he’d rehearsed and grabbed for it. “I have to make peace with the fact that I may never be with anyone ever again. Not until I work out my own issues.”
Something like hatred flashed across her face. “Where are you going?” she asked.
He couldn’t tell her. Not yet. “Call my cell if you need me.”
Then she asked, “Does Gabriella know?” Shit. He’d screwed this up so bad. Thinking about Gabriella, already missing Gabriella, almost drove him back to Cami’s knees. This furious woman had given him Gabriella. They’d created her together. If Cami wanted counseling, he should go to counseling. If she wanted a trial separation, he should do that, too. He shouldn’t leave until they both knew it was the right thing. He wanted, so badly it made him ache, to be able to stay and do this like a man.
But he took his bag and walked down the stairs and out the back door, where that goddamn goat jumped out of Cami’s truck bed and came running toward him. Without even thinking, he turned to call up the stairs, “Um . . . goat’s out.” It hit him then, like a ball bat to the gut, the history he was leaving.
But when he stepped off the porch, he took a breath. He felt that breath go deep, all the way through his body, and expand in his lungs.
He’d done it.
He’d broken through the surface.
Chapter Four
IT WASN’T UNTIL AFTER BOBBY HAD LEFT THAT THE TORNADO sirens went off, jump-starting my pulse.
The howl rose and fell, mournful in the stillness.
Perfect. Some more destruction to top off this day.