Natalie Heath
Unsteady hands on a shaking steering wheel
I exhale as I park perfectly next to a hundred empty spots
The flickering lamps gesture to the lurking shadow of the water tower
I lock my doors and cower behind it
Finally, I have a moment – no one’s here this late at night
I think, I talk, I breathe, I scream
I pull up grass roots in clumps and crush gravel in my hands
I cry until my eyes can’t find the water to make tears
I wipe my cheeks with my scratchy jacket sleeve and drive back down the hill
It is another day now
I nudge the car door against its latch and head towards the dewing grass
She reaches for the wicker basket that I pull away
It’s a surprise, just wait
The orange horizon illuminates a fading pink hillside
I reach for a pitcher of tea, the only two wine glasses I haven’t broken
A burlap bag of the best paints I could find, a letter with a handcrafted wax seal
I stretch out a plush blanket barely big enough for the both of us
Oh no, she teases, we’ll just have to sit closer
