The Brandywine Prophet

6.2 Batten Clamps

It was after seven already. The sun said the days were getting longer, but Hyde’s crazy work schedule did what work schedules often do, and he wondered what happened to the last ten hours.

Hyde loved the theater. He loved standing center stage and spinning around in three-hundred-and-sixty degrees of pure technology; technology that came from his recommendations; technology that helped finance his second store. He lifted his arms, cleared his throat, and yelled, “Echo!” and listened to the reverb in the bandshell.

That afternoon, Will called him at work and asked for help with the fly system. The first week in May was reserved for a production of Madame Butterfly and Will promised them three open lift lines for props and custom backgrounds. The stage was equipped with a dozen lines, but only two were available for outside equipment. One of the backdrops had to go, and William needed Hyde’s assistance. Thank God. Kayla would still be awake, and the thought of walking back into that house tightened his chest.

Hyde thought the craziness was over. It was supposed to be over at the conclusion of last week’s Sparkle Motion show. Janie won every Top in Category award with a triple platinum trophy and Kayla finally proved to William that she was a phenomenal dance teacher. She had the entire weekend to become intimately comfortable with the stage that she loathed. Hyde encouraged her through the competition because, at that time, he thought he saw a light at the end of the tunnel. He thought that, if Janie won, his wife would come back to him. He tried to convince her that the stress would dissolve the moment the show was over; that she would be free of the curse and she would laugh at her ridiculous behavior. But when the night after the awards finally arrived, Kay didn’t laugh. She cried. Again...

“Janie won!” Hyde yelled when they made it to the bedroom. “You won the bet! Will likes you as a teacher! You can relax!” Kayla sobbed harder until her nose blew yellow bubbles and her lungs inhaled three breathes for every one it released. Hyde grabbed her by the shoulders. He shook her. He clenched his fingers into her skin-wrapped shoulder blades and shook her body as hard as he could. “Wake the fuck up!” he screamed in her face, but her body remained limp like a doll and her mouth hung open. If her eyes hadn’t remained focused on his, he would have thought she was dead.

For the first time since it all began, tears squeezed through Hyde’s clenched eyelids. He released his gorilla grip and Kayla crumbled to the bare mattress. He sat down on the edge, away from his wife, and cried. 

A minute of silence, then he felt movement in the mattress and heard the creak of the springs. Kayla was crawling toward him. A hairless arm snuck around his neck and a porcelain face rested against his shoulder. 

“I need to tell him.” The way she spoke reminded Hyde of the bald little kids at the children’s cancer center. Their voices were soft, cool, and hauntingly present with the sacred insight of impending death. His wife seemed to share their secret. “I need to tell him, then it’s over.”

“You don’t need to tell him. You can fight these feelings.”

“I can’t. I’ll just tell Sarah.”

“You’re not telling Sarah.”

“Next week is my birthday. This will be my present.”

“Kay--”

“You got a present. You got your second store. I want my present. No streamers. No balloons. No hat for the dog. Just a little chat with Sarah. Then this all goes away.”

“It’ll ruin him, Kay. The Carmels are friends. We don’t hurt friends like that.”

“He still thinks it was God.”