~ * ~ 2 Months Later ~ * ~
What a beautiful piece of heart ache this has all turned out to be. Lord knows we've learned the hard way, all about healthy apathy. And I use these words pretty loosely. There's so much more to life than words.
There is a me you would not recognize, dear. Call it the shadow of myself. And if the music starts before I get there, dance without me. You dance so gracefully. I really think I'll be okay. They've taken their toll these latter days.
Nothin' like sleepin' on a bed of nails, nothin' much here but our broken dream. Oh but baby if all else fails, nothin' is ever quite what it seems. And I'm dyin' inside to leave you, with more than just cliches.
There is a me you would not recognize, dear. Call it the shadow of myself. And if the music starts before I get there, dance without me. You dance so gracefully. I really think I'll be okay. They've taken their toll these latter days. They've taken their toll these latter days.
Tell them it's real, tell them it's really real. I just don't have much left to say. They've taken their toll these latter days. They've taken their toll these latter days.
-Latter Days, by Over The Rhine (CD: Good Dog, Bad Dog)
Kindlin came home to a quiet house, and walked up the stairs, with her older children in toe, and Aaron, who was asleep, in her arms. She put them all to bed and went back down the stairs to figure out why Nick wasn't home yet.
Things had been difficult since the death of Andraya. Nick and Kindlin hadn't had many deep conversations in the past two months... just the day to day talking, but nothing serious, nothing that married couples are supposed to talk about. Kindlin didn't feel welcome to tell Nick how she was feeling, how she was coping, how she was doing... she didn't feel as though Nick would listen... as if he'd even care. What killed her the most was when she'd cry, and he'd merely look at her in annoyance. Kindlin didn't know what to do anymore... she'd just about given up.
Kindlin's mom had lived with them for a month, after everything had happened. It was good for the both of them... they'd helped each other deal with everything... after all, Kindlin had lost her daughter and father, and Kindlin's mother had lost her husband and granddaughter. Those two people had meant the world to both of them. But after a month, Kindlin's mother had to get back to Seattle and try and go on with her life, and Kindlin had to try and do the same thing. The problem was... she wasn't.
On the other hand, Kindlin hadn't seen Nick cry over the loss of his daughter, since the night she'd died. It frustrated Kindlin, and though she knew that everybody dealt with things differently, she couldn't help but doubt Nick's love for their deceased daughter. She always felt guilty for thinking that way - she knew Nick had loved Andraya very much - but why couldn't he just express the way he was feeling? Why couldn't he tell her that he was hurting, why couldn't he tell her how hard it had been for him to lose his youngest child? Why couldn't they help each other, like Kindlin and her mother had?
Upon entering the kitchen, Kindlin went and checked the message machine to see if Nick had maybe left a message, saying that he'd gotten tied up in the studio, and would be a little late. But like always, like every time before, there was nothing. Nick was hardly ever home, and he never cared to tell Kindlin where he was.
She'd thought, more than once, that maybe he was cheating on her. But then, for fear of it being true, she'd assure herself that she was jumping to conclusions, and that Nick was just busy. But too busy for his own wife? For his own children?
It was forty-five minutes after Kindlin had gotten home, that Nick's car pulled into the garage. Nick walked through the garage door, his keys clanking together as he tossed them onto the side table. He kicked his shoes off and tore off his jacket, hanging it up on the coat hook. He was tired, and slightly grumpy, wanting to go and crawl into bed. Suddenly Kindlin was standing in front of him, in the dark room. Nick jumped about a foot, having been startled. She'd looked... scary.
"Where have you been?" Kindlin asked softly, reminding Nick that she wasn't scary after all. She hadn't seemed to notice that she'd alarmed him, or maybe she hadn't cared.
Nick sighed, running his fingers through his hair. He didn't want to go through this same discussion again, "I told you, Kindlin... I had to go and do some stuff with the Boys in the studio today."
"I know that... but you were supposed to be home by seven."
If Nick didn't know any better, he would have thought she sounded frightened... or lost... or maybe both.
"Kin, I had some errands to do afterwards, okay?" he brushed passed her and into the kitchen to get something cold to drink. His throat felt like it was closing up again. He was so sick of dealing with all of this, having the same discussions, going over the same old things.
Kindlin followed him slowly, and stood by the counter in silence, watching him as he poured a Coke. Nick was able to consume any substance with caffeine in it, no matter what hour of the night, and still be able to fall asleep. It was as if he was immune to it. It was one of those "Nick things."
The question that Kindlin asked next, surprised Nick. Though he didn't really know why.
"Are you cheating on me, Nick?" her voice was so soft, Nick wanted to kill himself. He didn't show her that, though.
He knew that the way he had been acting since the... death... of their daughter, would have made it look as though it were true... that he was cheating on Kindlin. But he wasn't.
"Of course not, Kindlin. Why the hell would you think something like that??" he looked at her incredulously, as if it were the stupidest thought she'd ever had. He knew he was hurting her, breaking her heart... he wanted to kill himself for that too... but he couldn't stop himself... couldn't bring himself to tell her he loved her, that he was sorry for how he'd acted... he couldn't bring himself to deal with the fact that the death of his child had broken him.
"Because you're never here, Nick. And when I ask you where you've been, you usually change the subject, or tell me it's none of my business. What's going on? Why aren't you ever home?"
Nick snapped. He'd wanted to tell her this for so long, as sick as that was, but he'd never brought himself to do it, "Because I'm sick of seeing you like this!! I'm sick of hearing you whine! Of seeing you cry! Can't we just forget about the fact that our daughter died?! Or are we just gonna dwell on it for the rest of our lives?! She's DEAD, Kindlin!! Gone from this earth! Never coming back! GONE! Get OVER IT!"
Kindlin was silent for longer than Nick would have expected, but suddenly she spoke... so quiet Nick could hardly hear her, but he did. "Get the f*ck out of this house."
Nick just stared at her, his eyes mere slits, his hands in tight fists. But Kindlin suddenly became the one who turned violent, as she pounded her fists against his chest in a maddened rage. Hot, angry tears coursed down her face at a strong pace.
"GET OUT!!!! GET THE F*CK OUT!!!!!!"
Nick hadn't heard somebody scream so loud in all his years of living. She continued to rant and rave as Nick tried to catch her flying fists. Kindlin suddenly sunk to the floor in tears, her face against the hard wood floor, her knees pulled up to her chin, as she rocked back and forth, "Get out," she whimpered. "Please get out... get out... get out..."
"Don't you worry, Kindlin," Nick hissed, his eyes blazing. "You can bet your ass I'll be out by Saturday."
~ * ~ Saturday ~ * ~
Nick packed the last box into the back of the Durango and grabbed his keys from off of the front seat. He twirled them around in his hands, pondering whether or not to give Kindlin the flowers that were sitting in the passenger seat, or not. Finally he grabbed the roses and headed back up to the house.
Alex, Ashley, Aisya, and Aaron were staying with Brian and Leighanne, yet again. Lately Nick and Kindlin hadn't been very capable of taking care of even their own children.
Nick found Kindlin sitting in the kitchen, looking out of the big french doors. He didn't know how to approach her, so he slowly walked up behind the chair she was sitting in, and placed the flowers in her lap. Kindlin's eyes stayed on the roses for a few minutes, before looking up at Nick.
"Just thought I'd come and say bye... Umm... maybe I could come take the kids for the weekend, next week?"
She nodded silently, wanting to beg him to stay, to tell him she loved him... but she didn't, and Nick left.
