Coming Undone: A Novel Read online

  And that's the real problem, isn't it? Fear. In his younger years Landon Briggs wasn't afraid of anything at all. He was Melody's hero, the boys' hero. These days, the fear can creep in when he isn't paying attention and stop him in his tracks.

  Suddenly, Landon is angry. He puts down his fork too hard, clanging it against the plate. Making James wince. Out of nowhere, he's mad at all the things he can't control. It rises up like a current and fills the center of his mind. Why should he be afraid? Why should his mind stop him from being and doing and living? He's not dead yet. He's fine. Why is his own mind lying to him, telling him he's not and making him timid? He's been to the Ridge sixty or eighty times in his life, and dammit, he deserves to go again if he wants.

  "A camping trip, huh?" he says. "Up on Razorback Ridge?"

  They had always gone camping there, on a little strip of land that Landon still owns. It isn't big enough for anything but a tent and a cooking fire and a great view, but they'd had a lot of good times there. "That's what we were thinking," Peter says. "What do you say?"

  There is something goading in his tone. Something urgent. Landon looks at them and understands what they see. This will be his last camping trip, they think. This will be their last adventure with their father. They might be right - Landon is in his seventies now, and he knows he won't be around forever.

  But Razorback Ridge, spanning the lower portion of the Appalachian Mountain range in the western part of North Carolina, seems very far away right now. It seems dangerous and foreign. What if he has an episode? What if a hole appears in his mind and he gets lost in those woods? Any other year it wouldn't bother him, but these days he knew that even one day lost on the mountain could easily spell the end of him.

  If he forgot who he was, if he forgot who they were, if he forgot what he was doing there and wandered off to find home... He doesn't know exactly what happens to him during these holes, but he knows that he isn't safe.

  On the other hand, his boys want him along, and that feels very, very good. They watch him weigh his decision, hope in their eyes. "We could take Jakey, too," James says, to sweeten the deal.

  Jakey is James’s oldest, and at three he already reminds Landon of James at that age. A studious and responsible boy, but quick to offer a bright smile or a warm hug, too. Jakey appointed himself his little sister's protector on the day she was born, and he has lived up to that task every day of his little life. Landon loves him so much that it brings hot tears to his eyes.

  "All right," he says. "One more adventure."

  It's a bad idea. He knows it. Melody, who has been standing behind him, makes a strangled sound in the back of her throat. She knows it, too. "Landon," she says...

  The boys notice something in her face. They look from their dad to their mama. "What?" Peter asks.

  Landon shakes his head. "Nothing." Then he prays that Melody doesn't say anything, at least until they're gone.

  She doesn't, of course. She knows him, knows how he feels about airing their problems in front of the boys. It won't do any good, and it will give them something more to worry about. "Parents are supposed to ease the lives of their children, not make them harder," she always said, and she holds to that even now.

  But when they've gone an hour later, she turns to him and shakes her head. "You can't go, Lan," she says, reaching for his hand and giving it a familiar squeeze. Her own hand is cool and soft against his. "You can't. It's too dangerous."

  So he pulls her into his lap on the living room sofa and tells her what he saw - the hope in their eyes, their belief that this will be his last adventure with them. He tells her he has to go. That yes, he knows the risks and yes, he understands her worries, but these are their boys. This one last time, they are counting on him to say yes. And they're bringing Jakey - he reminds her that he’s never had an episode when Jakey is around.

  She's not buying it, but she knows she won't stop him. "At least tell them about it," she asks, but he shakes his head. "I don't want them to remember me like that," he says. "It'll happen, I know. But don't take this one last trip away, Melody. I love you, but I have to do this with my boys."

  Every word of it is the God's truth, too. The more he thinks about it, the more he knows that he needs this trip as much as they do. He needs the fresh air and the exercise and the peace that only comes when a man is surrounded by nature and other men. Regardless of the risks, regardless of the holes, he knows he's going. "Who can say how much time a man has left, Melody? Not me. Not you."

  She turns away, her eyes wet with tears that she won't shed in front of him, not if she can help it.

  "Don't cry," he says, hugging her tight, feeling torn between his wife and his children for the first time in his life. "Please. I'll be careful."

  3

  Peter calls the next morning, after Melody has gone to her book club meeting. They all know that Wednesday mornings are just about the only time that Landon is alone in the house. Landon is surprised when the phone rings, so that he almost doesn't answer it. When someone calls, it's always for Melody.

  "Mama doesn't want us to take you on this trip," Peter says, first thing. "She called last night. I think you were in bed."

  The idea of it, of her being sneaky, surprises and amuses Landon. "She worries too much," he says.

  "I know. But..." Peter paused. "Is there anything we need to know, Dad? Any reason this isn't safe for you?"

  Landon pulls in a slow breath. "Not really. Why would you ask that?"

  He hopes that Melody didn't tell them about the holes. He hopes that Peter won't hear the agitation in his voice.

  "We were just wondering. She sounded really upset." Somewhere in the background, behind Peter's voice, Landon hears men yelling and diesel machinery moving. Peter is calling from a job site. "If you don't think we should go, just say something. We were just talking the other day and thought it might be...fun."

  The hesitation is small, but Landon catches it. How does he reassure his boys, when he isn't sure himself? He can't, and he knows it. All he can do is say that everything is fine. Then, later, he will say a prayer that everything is, in fact, fine, and that it will stay that way for now. For their adventure.

  Landon doesn't say so, not even to himself, but he doesn't want this to be the last one. Maybe, if things go well this time, he might get to have a few more adventures before the end. The boys have been given plenty of adventures - Jakey deserves a few, too. He most likely wouldn't remember this one - he's only three - but by the time he is five he would remember them. Landon wants to give him that gift.

  Every boy needs roots. They need to know the men who share their blood, the men who came before them in the long march of history, the men who shape their world, long before they are ever born into it. A legacy, he supposes, is the proper word. An inheritance of bloodlines. The thought sounds ominous in his head for some reason, so he doesn't say it out loud.

  "Dad?" Peter asked, his voice small, far off. Ground up in the gears. Unsure.

  "Yeah. Sorry," Landon answers, bringing his mind back to the conversation at hand. "What else did she say, son?"

  "Not much, but we could tell something was really wrong. I called you because I've not known her to go behind your back like that before."

  Landon hadn't thought she would do something like that, either, but he isn't really surprised. Melody is worried. Landon's worried, too. He just doesn't think the worry is enough to cancel a weekend full of good memories. "I'll talk to her," he tells Peter.

  "Don't fight over it. We hate it when you two fight."

  "You do?" Landon doesn't remember ever really fighting in front of the boys.

  "It's so...civil. Y'all say please and thank you even when you're toe-to-toe, butting heads."

  Peter sounds just disgusted enough to make Landon laugh. "I promise we won't fight, and I also promise that I'm not going to cancel this trip. I want to go, so we'll go."

  "All right." Peter sounds about to hang up, then he says, "She also made us
promise to make you take your medicine."

  Landon sighed. "I promise I'll take my medicine, son."

  "What's the medicine for, anyway?" Peter is trying to be nonchalant, but it isn't working. He's probing for information.

  "General health," Landon says, the lie nearly getting caught in his throat. "Almost like a vitamin."

  When Melody comes in about two hours later, Landon is sitting at the kitchen table, sipping a cup of strong coffee and waiting for her. It's after one. She smiles at him and hangs her purse on the back of a dining room chair. "I thought you might be napping by now," she said. Her eyes search his face.

  Looking for signs of trouble? Most likely, he thinks. It angers him, a quick, rushing anger that surprises him with its sudden intensity. His hand grips the coffee cup. His foot jumps a few times under his chair. It's gone almost as quickly as it came, but it was there. He shakes it off and reminds himself that he's not angry with her. He loves her.

  He smiles and shakes his head. All this time, since Peter's call, he's been trying to figure out how he feels about Melody's interference. He isn't irritated with her, although a few years ago he might have been. Of course, a few years ago he wouldn't have given her anything to worry about in the first place. He's been a good husband, or at least tried hard. She pours a cup of coffee and sits down across from him at the small round table.

  "You know, I've never really gone against your good judgment," he says now, meeting her gaze with his own. "But this trip with the boys is important to me, Melody." He stops, not sure what words to use to say what he means. This wasn't worth fighting over. "I appreciate your care. I do. But let me decide what I want, all right? Stop putting pressure on our boys."

  Her smile fades, and her face goes a little pale.

  "Peter called me this morning."

  She looks away, out the window that frames part of the front lawn. Out on the highway, a tractor-trailer roars by. The trees surrounding the house muffle the sound. If it weren't so quiet in here, they wouldn't even have heard it.

  "I don't want you to go," she says, still not looking at him. "I'm afraid."

  He sets down his cup and starts to reach for her hand, then pulls back. "I'm afraid, too. But Bracer says the new medicine is promising, remember?"

  She shrugs.

  "And even if it's not, I don't suppose it really matters."

  She looks at him now. "It does matter. What if something happens to you out there? What if they can't get help to you in time? That land is remote, Lan."

  "I know. But what's going to happen that might not happen here? I could have fallen and cracked my head open while you were at Annette's kitchen table, reading Nicholas Sparks this morning."

  She puts a hand over her mouth and her eyes crinkle at the thought.

  "You see what I mean?" He silently wills her to understand. He wasn't lying a few minutes ago when he said he rarely went against her good judgment. She is a wise woman, and her wisdom has probably saved their family a bunch of heartache over the years. But today he isn't going to take her advice to hide in the house till he dies, no matter how well-meaning that advice is. Today he's going to grab a little bit of what's left and ride it out.

  Maybe it's boredom. Maybe it's some stubborn streak surfacing for one last hurrah. Maybe it's to prove - to all of them, including himself - that he ain't dead yet.

  She slumps down in her chair and wraps both hands around the steaming mug. She sighs so hard that it's almost a moan. "And what happens to me if you never come home?" she asks him. There is a sharpness to her voice that surprises him.

  "I'll come home." They both know it's an empty promise, soothing words that have no bite, no spine to hold them in place. Of course he will, if he can, but it's not really up to him, is it? Whatever or Whoever governs his fate will ultimately decide.

  "What happens to me?" she says, as if he hadn't even spoken.

  "Your boys will take care of you, Melody. They love you just like I do. You think they'll forget that?"

  "At least let me explain your condition," she says. There is a note of pleading in her voice, an unfamiliar tone.

  He thinks about that. It would make her feel better.

  But it would also change the whole trip. No more rowdy guys on a weekend adventure. Instead, it would be two responsible sons taking care of their elderly father. That wasn't fun - that was a nightmare. Neither of them would want to go if it was framed like that, and they surely wouldn't want to bring Jakey along. Hell, Landon wouldn't want to go on a trip like that. "I won't try to stop you - you'll do what you want," he says slowly. "But it'll ruin things, and I don't want that, so please don't."

  "I thought you'd say so," she tells him, her smile sad. She gets up and goes to her purse, one of those big flowery canvas things, and pulls out a small package. "So promise me you'll take this."

  He holds out his hand and takes it. "A cell phone?" he asks. She's carried one for the last couple of years, but he always refused. He doesn't go anywhere in order to need it. If he does go, she's with him, so he could use hers. This one looks like a fatter version of hers, not as sleek looking.

  She explains. "A cell phone won't work in those mountains. This is a satellite phone, with a GPS tracking system on it."

  He nods. It's a good idea, actually, one he never would have thought of himself. "Just keep it with me?" he asks, turning the thing over and looking at it.

  "Yes. That's what the salesman said." Her voice cracks. "I don't want to lose you, Lan. I need you still."

  She's said that before, that she needed him, and the words always surprise him. This time is no different. He knows he needs her, not realizing that it's a two way street until she points it out. "How do I work this thing?" he asks her.

  She laughs a little and shakes her head. "I have no idea. We'll have to ask the boys to set it up."

  "Well, we've got a couple of weeks to figure it out."

  Later on, after supper, she sits beside him on the sofa and watches a movie. Usually she doesn't. Usually she reads a book or works a puzzle, lost in her own small world while he zones out in front of the TV. Tonight she stays with him, and when he takes her hand, she lets her head drop onto his shoulder. He can smell the strawberries of her shampoo and feel the softness of her skin.

  This trip, it can't go wrong. He can't let it. He feels the need to go. He wants to go. At the same time, her words keep echoing in his head. What will happen to me if you never come home? She's such a strong woman, and the words offer a rare glimpse into her deepest fears. He feels honored that she said it, and terrified beyond measure that he might let her down.

  So he takes his medicine like a good patient, hopes that he's wrong and that it will help. When they go to bed he tucks her in against him tightly, so that she's as close by his side as possible. He lays there for a long time after she's snoring softly, making silent promises that he can't keep for sure and offering up whatever prayers he can muster to keep them all safe.

  Everything will be all right. Other than a little forgetfulness, he's fine. All people go through that, even people who aren't in their seventies. It's normal. He probably needs, more than anything, to quit taking those useless pills and just eat better and get more exercise. In fact, he'll do some of that this week - the trek to Razorback Ridge isn't long, but it's remote. They can only get the trucks so far up the trail before they have to park and walk. That will do him some good, give him a chance to stretch his legs out in the fresh air.

  Of course, he doesn't have to wait until next weekend. He'll start tomorrow, get outside and go for a nice walk around the neighborhood. Get out of Melody's hair for a bit, maybe talk to the neighbors. It's the kind of day he always imagined he'd have when he retired, but things haven't worked out that way for some reason. The days slip away. He feels it strongly right now, and it irritates him. They only slip away if I let them, he thinks. It's my fault.

  Melody hasn't said anything, but now he wonders if she's bored with her life. She has her clubs an
d her friends and the kids, but doesn't she get tired of hanging around here at the house? They talked about traveling, once upon a time. They promised each other that once the kids were grown they would take the time to see the world, or at least the interesting parts of it. What's happened to those ideas? Where have they gone?

  He turns his head to ask her, but she's asleep, her head still on his shoulder. He smiles at her and gingerly repositions her head to a more comfortable position on her pillow. He rolls in close and scoops her against his chest, leaving her room to wiggle and get settled. They've slept this way for years, just like this, and this comforts him like nothing else. No matter what happens, no matter where life takes him, at the end of the day, he has this, and it's enough.

  It takes fifteen or twenty minutes of lying there in the dark for him to decide he's not sleepy enough to nod off, so he pushes up out of their warm little nest and makes his way through the dark, chilly hall.

  He's still thinking about that walk. He even goes to the front door and opens it, looks out at the night. It's dark beyond the yellow of the security lights. There doesn't seem to be much of a moon, if any. That's good, he thinks. That means in a couple of weeks, when they go camping, there will be at least a partial moon. Jakey will love it. There's nothing in the world like getting away from the lights of civilization and seeing nature as it's supposed to be seen - undisturbed and naturally lit by moon and sun and stars. He always wished he could paint, so he could capture the pure goodness of the wild. But then he'd remember that if he could capture it, it wouldn't be pure and good anymore. It would be diminished - a cheap replica of the real thing.

  Like me, he thinks before he shakes the thought away.

  It's going to be a fine adventure, he can feel it in his bones.

  In the end he doesn't go outside. He just looks for a while, feeling the soft, cool breeze through the screen, and then closes the door and goes back to bed. It takes a while, but eventually he sleeps.