Not Brian

Her goal was to be able to look at Brian again. Not just to look at him, and handle basic transactions, for she could do that much, but to look at him without the wall between her eyes and her heart. For Lydia, she told herself at first – so she wouldn’t be torn between two parents. But also for herself. To not be as trapped in this place as she had in the other.

One afternoon, in the supermarket, she saw him in the checkout line just ahead of her. Actually, all she saw from that angle was his height, hair and plaid shirt, but it was enough to make her heart stop. Until the fellow turned, as if he’d heard her gasp, and smiled. A kind smile. Which she returned.

From that small encounter Claire had the idea that perhaps she could approach him by successive approximations. If she could open her heart to men who resembled Brian in this or that small way, perhaps she’d eventually be able to stand next to the whole person, complete in herself as well.

The second man, simply had the scruffy beard Brian had in the early days of their marriage, before Lydia was born. When she saw this man she thought of how Brian had grown the beard to make himself look older, and stronger. Because, at heart, he was such a puppy. Not many people suspected that, and it was difficult for her to remember, now, how timid he was at heart.

The third man, riding the subway, didn’t resemble Brian at all – he was younger, and rangier, with dirty blonde hair – but he had the same air of coiled vigilance. She knew that if this man caught her looking at him critically he’d respond with a sneer of his own. And do the same if he caught her looking at him more warmly. Not trusting it. If you said the slightest negative thing to this man he’d respond, in a flash, with a hail of arrows, all aimed at your heart.

But I know where it comes from, Claire told herself, looking at the young man’s reflection in the subway window. Brian’s father, a military man, had been on him like a drill sergeant, all the time. No performance was ever good enough. Nothing Brian said was quite right. Everything had to be spit-shined and perfect. And, instead of love, there was only the hope of a clenched pride. Claire felt a similar pain in this young man, saw it in his gnawed fingernails, and wished she could console him.

She found the fourth and final man at a party. An older, grayer version of Brian, he’d had a couple of drinks and that was the thing that reminded her of him. How he was after just one or two. Loose enough that he’d dropped his defenses and was outgoing, even charming. But in a way that made him even more dangerous. Because he had farther to fall.

This time, instead of having to push herself closer, Claire had to make an effort to not let herself get too close. Because she missed that charm. Missed that affection. Perhaps the man thought she was interested in him. Or perhaps, hungry for affection himself, as Brian had been, he would have been the same with anyone. Either way, he expanded his sphere, embraced her with it. And continued to drink.

She knew the pattern well and could have identified, within two seconds, the point where the man’s tone changed. From soft to sharp. From warmth to heat. And she felt the fear rise in her in a way that was both dreadful and exhilarating. But she did not leave. She stood there, not just allowing his presence, but even smiling back at, the man who was not Brian.

– end –