Conversation in the Cold
The cold air whipped past us as we sat on the old warehouse roof. I was vaguely aware that Grace was staring at me while I watched our target through binoculors. My coat and gloves were warm enough, but my ears felt like glass in the wind.
“Is there something you should be telling me?” Grace asked, tapping her foot.
I knew instantly what she was talking about and my eyes hit the floor. I was ashamed that I hadn’t told her yet. I had wanted to, but when I had meant to I remembered the day and thought better of it. Few things in this world are worse than knowing someone you care about is in pain and there is nothing you can do to help other than sit by and be there if they need you.
“Am I in trouble?” I asked, barely above a whisper.
“Not really,” she said, “this is just something that I would have considered important enough to tell me.”
“I was going to tell you, but it all happened so fast, and then it was right before-” I paused, not wanting to say it. I swallowed hard gaining some nerve, “It was right before, you know…”
“You think that I wouldn’t want to know because I was having a rough day? I always like to know when my friends are happy.” The look on her face was pained, but she left the smile on.
“Alright, I’ll make you a deal, next time I won’t not tell you,” I said holding out my hand.
“You two are married, Henry,” Grace said, “there shouldn’t be a next time…”
“I don’t know,” I said scratching the back of my head, “I still feel like at some point she might kill me, or at least cripple me so I can’t follow her anymore. I’m stupid a lot. You know that.”
“Like that matters,” Grace laughed, shaking her head. “She married you, and as long as you two have been together, I think it’s a safe bet that she knows what she got herself into.”
“Fair enough,” I agreed, “should we kill this guy now, or…”
“Yes, that.” she nodded, pulling her rifle into her shoulder again, “definitely, that.”
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