more deeply compelled to discover the truth of the incident.
I thought about getting my hands on the crash-test dummy from the Kalispell police force. We called it Jed for reasons unknown to me, but we’d used it once before years back to study a fall pattern of a man from Mount Reynolds who was secured to go on trial against a local and corrupt group of money-laundering bank managers. Officials were suspicious about his death, but could never prove he’d been pushed even with the simulations of Jed.
But without the autopsy report and nothing suggesting foul play, I was not going to be able to convince Ford to let me keep the trail closed while I experimented with a borrowed dummy on a heavily visited tourist trail. I could just see him shaking his head about my recent training and how it was costing the government more than it was good for.
I couldn’t stand the thought of not taking one more peek, though. I ate my chili, paid the bill, put away my notes, and grabbed my phone and called Ken. When he answered, I said, “You up for an early drive to the Loop in the morning?”
When he agreed, I said, “Good. We’ve got one more rappelling trip to perform before we open the trail.”
• • •
When I pulled up to my wood-planked dorm with government-green trim Lara was waiting in the driveway in her silver-beige Honda. Dapples of evening sun filtered through the trees and created soft swayingpatches of light on her car. When she saw me, she stepped out. “I’d have called, but I knew you’d just silence your phone and let it go to voicemail.” She wore capri jeans, a pink T-shirt, and flip-flops. Sunglasses, no longer needed in the fading light, tucked her short, dark wavy hair back and a few short tendrils of soft, babylike strands fell before her ears. I hadn’t seen her in several weeks. A part of me was annoyed to see her while another part of me instantly softened, weakening as always when she showed her pretty face.
I walked over, resisted giving her a hug, and waited for her to say more.
“Aren’t you even going to say ‘hi’?”
“Hi,” I said. “I’ve been busy the past two days.”
“Yeah. I read someone fell.”
“Joe’s having me take care of it all. So”—I flicked my keys and glanced at the green door of my dorm—“why did you come?”
“I wanted to see you. You’re still my husband, you know.”
“Lara.” I sighed. “We’ve talked about this. It just makes it harder. Either we’re ending this or not. But neither one of us can go on like this— I can’t—in limbo like this.” After Lara had insisted I move out because she needed space to think and to be alone since I wouldn’t agree to start a family, it was gut-wrenching for both of us, but a huge relief. We’d been fighting over everything, and tension hung in the air, sticky and palpable, with every activity we tried, every conversation we attempted, and each mundane task we did in each other’s company. Just going to Home Depot together became a challenge when she’d inevitably comment on the couple in the next aisle with the toddlers and how happy they looked. The issue was always in the room with us.
After a few months apart, the tension slowly went away and was less permeating, but the bitterness stayed. I felt betrayed—that she’d changed the landscape of our marriage when she knew how I felt before even getting married and that she’d actually want to move out. I had tried to compromise, suggesting a puppy. Big mistake. Then I evensuggested adoption, but she refused, saying that there were no guarantees with the mental health of an adopted baby either, so we might as well just have our own.
And she felt betrayed by me that I simply wouldn’t budge—that I must not have loved her enough if I wasn’t willing to have a child with her. But the bottom line was that we still cared for each other.
“I know. I know. But our conversation ended so abruptly and I, I don’t know.” She tilted her
I thought about getting my hands on the crash-test dummy from the Kalispell police force. We called it Jed for reasons unknown to me, but we’d used it once before years back to study a fall pattern of a man from Mount Reynolds who was secured to go on trial against a local and corrupt group of money-laundering bank managers. Officials were suspicious about his death, but could never prove he’d been pushed even with the simulations of Jed.
But without the autopsy report and nothing suggesting foul play, I was not going to be able to convince Ford to let me keep the trail closed while I experimented with a borrowed dummy on a heavily visited tourist trail. I could just see him shaking his head about my recent training and how it was costing the government more than it was good for.
I couldn’t stand the thought of not taking one more peek, though. I ate my chili, paid the bill, put away my notes, and grabbed my phone and called Ken. When he answered, I said, “You up for an early drive to the Loop in the morning?”
When he agreed, I said, “Good. We’ve got one more rappelling trip to perform before we open the trail.”
• • •
When I pulled up to my wood-planked dorm with government-green trim Lara was waiting in the driveway in her silver-beige Honda. Dapples of evening sun filtered through the trees and created soft swayingpatches of light on her car. When she saw me, she stepped out. “I’d have called, but I knew you’d just silence your phone and let it go to voicemail.” She wore capri jeans, a pink T-shirt, and flip-flops. Sunglasses, no longer needed in the fading light, tucked her short, dark wavy hair back and a few short tendrils of soft, babylike strands fell before her ears. I hadn’t seen her in several weeks. A part of me was annoyed to see her while another part of me instantly softened, weakening as always when she showed her pretty face.
I walked over, resisted giving her a hug, and waited for her to say more.
“Aren’t you even going to say ‘hi’?”
“Hi,” I said. “I’ve been busy the past two days.”
“Yeah. I read someone fell.”
“Joe’s having me take care of it all. So”—I flicked my keys and glanced at the green door of my dorm—“why did you come?”
“I wanted to see you. You’re still my husband, you know.”
“Lara.” I sighed. “We’ve talked about this. It just makes it harder. Either we’re ending this or not. But neither one of us can go on like this— I can’t—in limbo like this.” After Lara had insisted I move out because she needed space to think and to be alone since I wouldn’t agree to start a family, it was gut-wrenching for both of us, but a huge relief. We’d been fighting over everything, and tension hung in the air, sticky and palpable, with every activity we tried, every conversation we attempted, and each mundane task we did in each other’s company. Just going to Home Depot together became a challenge when she’d inevitably comment on the couple in the next aisle with the toddlers and how happy they looked. The issue was always in the room with us.
After a few months apart, the tension slowly went away and was less permeating, but the bitterness stayed. I felt betrayed—that she’d changed the landscape of our marriage when she knew how I felt before even getting married and that she’d actually want to move out. I had tried to compromise, suggesting a puppy. Big mistake. Then I evensuggested adoption, but she refused, saying that there were no guarantees with the mental health of an adopted baby either, so we might as well just have our own.
And she felt betrayed by me that I simply wouldn’t budge—that I must not have loved her enough if I wasn’t willing to have a child with her. But the bottom line was that we still cared for each other.
“I know. I know. But our conversation ended so abruptly and I, I don’t know.” She tilted her
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