The service is ending, they have folded the flag, tight precise movements, a ritual of folding, two gloved soldiers, like tiny robots, a little dance of submission to country and agony and death, Monica accepts the flag, on behalf of the President of the United States and a grateful nation … he is on one knee, he gives her the flag, and she will have it forever, the flag of a fallen hero, and I am just shaking, I don't have two daughters to raise, I don't have a company left me, I don't have legitimate memories I can keep on the mantle, I am the whore, brushed back to the side, my champion is gone, who will speak for me now?
"Caroline, aren't you coming?” Erin is talking to me.
I blink, not sure for a moment where we are. “Coming … where?"
"Back to the car,” says Erin. “Caroline, what's wrong?"
I am feeling woozy. Have I held in too much for too long?
"Caroline is riding with me,” says Brian.
"Why are you riding with Brian, Caroline?” Erin wants to know with typical teenage nosiness.
"They're friends,” Kasey concludes, taking her sister's hand. “Come on."
Monica has her flag. Monica's with her daughter's. Monica's drifting away.
It doesn't even fully register until I am in the front seat of a green Honda Del Sol. Brian's car.
"What the fuck did you just do?"
He starts the engine.
"You just humiliated me, you fucking asshole. Now they think I'm your whore."
"No one thinks anything, Caroline."
It's too late not to explode. “No, you're the one that doesn't think. You just do and everything you do is insane. Let me out of this car, you are kidnapping me."
He pulls away; we are leaving the cemetery.
"Monica needs me. Erin needs me. Kasey needs me."
"Stop it, Caroline, who do you think you're fooling? You were about to collapse back there. You think that's what Thomas’ family needs right now?"
"You don't fucking know what anyone needs. You like fucking with my head, you're psychotic."
"I am trying to help,” he counters. “The only way I know how."
"I don't want your help."
"You are getting it anyway."
I glare at the road. “If Thomas were alive…"
"Put your seat belt on,” he says, not responding to my provocation.
The buckle clicks. He turns on the radio. I think about his song. Caroline Needs Pain. Did he really save me back there? Was I going to collapse? It's true, things were spinning. But still, he should have been more discrete.
"Where are you taking me?” I demand. “This isn't the way home."
"We're making a stop."
My heart thunders. “Brian, I'm not playing any more games with you, do you hear me?"
"I'm not playing games."
We turn off the black top onto a small access road, and then onto dirt.
There are oranges.
Holy shit.
"This isn't funny, Brian."
He pulls over, into the brambles. “Why are we here?"
"You talk in your sleep,” he replies. “I thought you might be missing your orchard time."
That's it. I have had it.
"Don't try to be him. Don't try to replace him. Do you hear?"
He shuts the car off. “I'm me,” he declares. “And no one else."
I swing open the door and bolt. I kick off my pumps and I run, straight down the nearest row of trees. I look over my shoulder. He's not chasing me. He's leaning against the fender, smoking. I keep running. Prick. I look back again.
He's still there.
Fine. I'll run clear to Orlando. Or whatever piece of civilization is on the other side of this orchard.
I get tired way too easily. Where's my stamina? I was on track. I ran all through high school, just to get away from home. I haven't missed a day jogging in six years, even as a drunk.
I stumble and fall. The ground receives me without comment.
Eventually I get back up.
Brian's by the car acting like he could give a fuck if I ever came back.
"I'm fine,” I announce. “Thanks for asking."
"You're a big girl, I knew you were fine."
I seize on this. “See, it's this same jealousy shit-you can't stand the relationship I had with your father. He was Daddy to me; I was his baby girl. Get over it. He loved me, Brian, he would have given the world to me, hell he already did."
"Funny, you saying I'm jealous, when you're the one brought it up."
Now I'm just pissed. I get in his face. “He was good, you know. The best. You can't hold a candle. He owned my ass, he could make me do anything."
"You only did what you wanted. That was dad's personality-he indulged women. He spoiled them and when they wanted more than he could give, he ran."
"Liar, Thomas was not a coward, you are."
"I didn't say he was a coward."
My pulse is racing, the more emotional I get the calmer he is. I can feel myself, slipping away like I always do with Brian. I have to be objective, that's it, no passion, one way or the other. “You said he ran, though, and that isn't so. He was my rock."
"Your rock … because he couldn't be Monica's."
"Monica needed too much."
"So he found you,” he says. “And what do you think would have happened if you started wanting more?"
My mouth hangs there in space for a second. This is a universe I've never gone to … at least not consciously.
"Your father wasn't perfect,” I recover. “He was the first to say so. What about you?"
"Am I perfect, do you mean? Yes, I am. For you."
My knees weaken. “You must be kidding,” I laugh it off.
"I'm the only man who can handle all of you. I won't run; I thrive off you as a matter of fact."
"Bullshit,” I spit back. “You take off every chance you get. You fight with me; you abandon me. Where were you at the hospital? Did it occur to you I might have needed you?"
"I was grieving my father. I had to do it my own way. And you didn't want me there. You needed the space to be mother hen."
"So by all means, call me a taker or whatever it was and reject me … after all you made me put up with. For god's sake, Brian, you pissed on me-and I let you."
"You didn't just let me, you liked it. And you blame me for that because you want to go on punishing yourself with unhappiness. Well I have a newsflash. Want me to tell you the real source of your guilt-way deeper than your mixed emotions about what you did to Monica?"
"Oh, yes, do enlighten me, Dr. Freud."
The sarcasm doesn't faze him. He's intractable. He's a fucking labyrinth and he's driving me completely crazy.
"As much as you loved Thomas, you resented him."
I snort. “Wow. Sign yourself up for a PhD for that. Or should we just get you a special award for projection, because that's what you feel, not me."
"I am disappointed in my father. There's a difference. I wasn't in love with him, I didn't want him as a mate, and I never felt sexually rejected. He just wasn't there for me, so I don't even know what I missed."
"You're lying, distorting and hiding.” I point my finger at his chest.
"I wouldn't touch me like that if I were you."
I feel the electricity like a hot whip. It's beginning … the power exchange, volatile, dangerous … satisfying in ways I know I shouldn't want but I'm not sure I can do without. “Are you threatening me?"
"I'm just informing you of consequences. If you don't put your hand down I am going to punish you, hard and fast."
"You're bluffing,” I poke him.
Brian isn't bluffing. He spins me, reversing positions so it's me against the car. He pushes me face down and holds me in place his fingers twisted in my hair. He pulls my dress up to the waist and pulls down my panties.
Ten times he spanks my naked ass. The heat is twice as intense, the sexual humiliation twice as great in the out of doors. Knowing anyone could come by and see me like this.
He turns me back around, face to face, my skin still throbbing. “Are you ready to apologize?"