Kent, CT
It was a hot and cloudy July day in Kent, CT. We began the day fighting over something unremarkable. I remember that he argued with me a lot that day, like he was trying to have a bad birthday. He was in a mood and when he got in a mood there was no pulling him out. I just wanted his birthday to be perfect but he brought up Sam (my boyfriend) and said that if I wasn’t 100% committed to him (Lionheart) then why was I even here? I wanted to lie to him and tell him I didn’t love Sam and he shouldn’t worry. Maybe even that I had already broken up with him so he would stop asking me if I had. I didn’t break up with Sam because unconsciously I was dubious of Lionheart and the more he pressured me, the more those doubts rose to a conscious level. I wanted to tell him any lie that would make him back off or placate him while I tried to think about what I wanted but he could pull the truth out of me no matter what. It was futile to try and outsmart him.
I told him I couldn’t break up with Sam and he said, “you have to, because you’re in love with me.” I never said that. He made me feel guilty about not being 100% committed to a relationship with him I didn’t even know I was in. I kept shaking his head and saying “I dunno, chica” and guilting me by saying I wanted so much from him but I wouldn’t give him the basic respect of committing to our partnership. I was so confused by how things went from him supporting me on trail to being in a relationship. That wasn’t a conversation that was had.
Regardless, Lionheart’s birthday was meant to be happy. I took him out to brunch and bought him all sorts of nice things and try to make it special. We went for a walk in the woods and he calmed down. It seemed like he might finally have a good birthday.
On the drive home we stopped at an old furnace. He was giddy and climbed to the top but it made me nervous knowing he could be reckless. He was unpredictable and it wouldn’t be out of character for him to be rash and jump down and hurt himself. He climbed down and we started the drive back.
On the way, a finch flew into his windshield. He swerved to the side of the road and slammed on the breaks. He leaped out of the car and ran back to find it. It was dead. Death was his biggest trigger as a combat veteran with severe PTSD. He knelt over the dead bird, solemn. He was inconsolable and after twenty minutes of silence sitting with the bird he got out his shovel and buried it. We drove home in silence and didn’t talk the rest of the day.
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