Escape
Cristina Sandoval is a photographer by day and reader by night. When she is not doing either, she is probably playing fetch with her dog or binge watching a series in her bed. She is currently in her second year of graduate school at MSU Texas, majoring in English with the hopes of working for a publishing firm in the future. You can find her other photography work on her Instagram @cas1_photo and direct message her for bookings and questions.
The Mated Pair
Erica Lee Berquist
Gavin’s wife was as lovely as on the day he first met her, if not more so. It had been 17 years since he first saw her, on the day she transferred to his school. All day, he had heard buzzing about this beautiful new girl, yet he did not see her until the end of class. Cindy was wearing a red and white cheerleading uniform, holding pom poms, with a wide smile on her face that would have been at home in a toothpaste advertisement. Their eyes locked across the field, which sealed both of their fates. She was his lady. His first girlfriend. His only girlfriend. Several years later, right before they graduated, he proposed to her. They got married that summer, and here they were at 32. They had spent over half their lives together, and he couldn’t be happier.
As Gavin stepped through the side door onto the screened-in back porch, he put his rifle bag down on the table as he settled for a moment in the wicker chair. This was an action he had performed so many times before, as this chair was here for him to change out of his shoes – either his work boots he wore to the factory, or his hunting boots caked with mud – so that he didn’t track dirt into the house. Yet even as he had sat here hundreds of times before, like after a 9-hour shift, or a long day spent bringing down a buck, he had never felt so exhausted before as he fell into this chair. He felt one hundred years old.
Then somehow, he smiled, as the sound of his dog shifting drew his attention. The beagle hound, who had been dozing on the back porch, looked up at him with with a forlorn expression, that wasn’t a reflection of his true mood, as his white-tipped tail started to wag and make little thumping noises on the floor.“How you doing, Melvin?” Gavin greeted the dog, as he reached over to scratch Melvin behind his ear.
He hadn’t been sure about the name ‘Melvin’ when his wife first suggested it.Melvin is an old man’s name!he had protested.He’s a puppy. Surely, he needs a cute name.
But Melvin is cute, don’t you see?Cindy had said.He’s a puppy with a soul and a face of a centenarian. It suits him.
As the dog leaned into the scratches of his ear, now full-grown at three years old, Gavin knew his wife had been right. Melvin was the perfect name. Cindy was usually right about things. Then Gavin sat up a bit straighter. His wife might be right about some things, but she wasn’t right about everything. It was time to go. He had to get out of here.
Standing up, he said to his dog, “Come on, boy. Come on, Melvin. Let’s go. Want to go for a ride? Want to help your dad with the ducks?”
The dog stared up at him, and his brown eyes seemed even more tired than they had a moment ago. Melvin didn’t shift to stand on his paws, and his tail had stopped wagging.
“Want to go for a ride?” he asked once more, holding up the keys and nodding his head in the direction of the car. When the dog lowered his head to rest it on his front paws, Gavin sighed and lowered the keys. “Okay, then. You stay here. Look after your momma. I’ll go hunting alone.”
As Gavin crawled across the ground on his belly, the grass pattern on his waterfowl jacket and pants provided coverage. He moved slowly, yet the shifting of the grasses and the cracking of dried reeds was unavoidable. Normally, he would have liked to get here earlier in the day to set up his gear, yet the conversation with his wife had cost him time… but no, he didn’t want to think about that right now. He wanted to think about the ducks, as he was running out of time. The best time to hunt was within three hours of sunrise, and the sun had been up for about two and a half hours already. If he was going to bring home a duck, he would have to do it fast.
After crawling as close as he could to the water’s edge without getting wet, Gavin pulled the rifle that was strapped on his back around, so that it rested on his arm as he peered out across the lake. Nothing yet… no shifting of the cattails to indicate that there might be a mallard nesting in the tall grasses. Yet they might be there. A clever duck would have heard him coming, getting very still in case predators were nearby. What he had to do now was get still, until the ducks forgot a threat might be near, which is when they started moving again.
Normally, he would be content to lie here for a few hours, watching the little things that were his favorite part of these trips. The Chesapeake Bay was beautiful to behold, but most only see it outside the window of their cars as they travel across the William Preston Lane Jr. Memorial Bridge (known to locals as the Bay Bridge) on the way to Ocean City. It is only once you step outside of your car and lay in the grasses that the true beauty of the water’s edge is revealed. Like, the way the sun looks as it rises in the morning. It sets the lake afire with light when it is high in the sky, and as a breeze skipped across the surface of the water, it sent ripples that made the reflected sunrise look like rubies were being scattered across the bay. Also, animals that normally would have gone unnoticed finally come out when a person sits still for a moment. As Gavin lay in the grass, he could hear the song of an American toad calling to its mate. At the water’s edge, an Eastern newt appeared for just a flicker, before it dove deeper into the murky water. There were a few more moments of nothing that called for patience, and then a Baltimore checkerspot butterfly drifted by before resting on a reed across the water.
Gavin could do this all day, if this were any other day. It wasn’t just that it would soon be three hours since sunrise soon… he was having trouble keeping his mind clear and not thinking about things. He couldn’t lie here all day. Reaching around his neck, he withdrew the cord that held the call tucked into his shirt. He glanced down at the little wooden object, a Duck Commander call that Cindy had ordered him for his birthday, after he got into watchingDuck Dynasty.He closed his hand around the object and squeezed it before blowing into it.
The duck call made a quacking noise. He blew in intervals, like a duck would. Normally, he would be ready, with his finger wrapped around the trigger, while his eyes scanned the water for the arrival of a duck investigating the call. Yet the rifle lay slack in his palm as he was lost in thought, recalling that terrible conversation from this morning.
* * *
As Gavin entered the kitchen, he saw his wife sitting at the table in her bathrobe. Like the first time he ever saw her, her face was bathed in light as the sun came in the bay window, bringing out the golden highlights in her hair. When he walked past her on the way to the coffee pot, he reached out to touch her shoulder. She jumped a little under his touch, seeming to not have noticed as he entered the room. “Want another cup of coffee?” Gavin asked her, as he made his own.
“No thank you, I’m having tea this morning.” She took a sip of her cup, before saying, “There’s pancakes. Help yourself.”
“Smells good,” he said, as he used a fork to transfer pancakes from the serving platter onto his plate. As he covered them with syrup and took his first bite, he smiled, but not because they were delicious. Of course, they were – his wife was a fantastic cook – but what made him smile was how normal this felt. Surely, if Cindy had made such a fantastic breakfast, then last night hadn’t been that serious.
“Listen, Gavin…” Cindy started hesitantly, turning that first bite of pancakes to lead in his stomach. “No, forget it.”
He put his fork down with more force than he intended, and it clattered against the plate.
Cindy stared at his plate. For a moment, he thought that maybe she’d move on, and they’d be talking about what tv show to watch with dinner tonight. Instead, she persisted, “This is our life, we can’t just forget it.”
“Exactly. This is our life. Ourlife. You’re the one who wants to move away for work. You’re the one trying to forget.”
“Not forget it,” Cindy said, as she looked up to meet his eyes. “I could never forget our time together. I just want to take this job. Move forward in life. And I can’t do that here. I am tired of feeling stuck.”
“Move on… without me, you mean?” It was something he was afraid to ask, as he was already sure what her answer would be.
Cindy sighed and rubbed her eyes. “I can’t ask you to move with me. I know you love this place. You’re not like me.”
“Where the hell is this coming from?”
“It’s been coming a long time. Surely you must have seen it.” She gestured to the room around them, to their house as if it were evidence of something. As he looked around, all he saw was the home they’d built together. Cindy continued, “We got together when we were children. Just 15. We want different things now.”
“Someone else you mean?” he asked in a whisper.
“This isn’t about wanting other people. I want to know who I am. I don’t know who the hell I am because I’m always with you and you think you know me. I’ve never had the chance to see the world and get to know myself. Does that make sense?”
“None of this makes sense.” He got up from the table and picked up the bag containing his hunting rifle. At the face his wife made, he raised the bag. “Is this it? Is this the problem? I know you hate hunting. Do you want me to give it up? For you? Because I will.”
She shook her head. “I would never ask that. You love it. It’s a part of you.”
“I’ve got to get out of here. I can’t do this right now.” As Gavin hefted the bag on his shoulder, he looked out the bay window to see how high the sun had climbed in the sky. He didn’t want to think about his marriage right now. “If I don’t get going, it will be too late by the time I reach the lake. We’ll talk more about this when I get home… you’ll be here when I get home, won’t you?”
Cindy nodded, and there was a solemness in her blue eyes that made him trust her. She understood that he needed to clear his head, and she didn’t resent him for it. As much as she might have despised what he did to clear it. “Yes, Gavin. I will always be here to talk.”
* * *
About a decade ago, he had brought Cindy with him for her first hunt, as she’d wanted to spend more time together. Things had started off well, as she’d enjoyed the trip to Dick’s Sporting Goods to get her waterfowl gear, but it was like reality had hit her once they were at the water’s edge and there was a weapon in her hands.
Blow into the duck call,he’d urged her. They didn’t have the Duck Commander back then, just a cheap one, but it would get the job done.
What’s it for?she asked, looking at the thing rather than breathing into it.
Gavin pointed to the end she should breathe into.It makes a sound like a duck looking for a mate. When they hear it, they will fly closer to look for the duck making the noise.
Still, she didn’t blow into the duck call. Tears brimmed in her eyes as she looked at it.They’re lonely and lost. The ducks come here looking for each other when they hear this… and we shoot them? I don’t understand this. It’s barbaric.
That should have been the sign of this impossible void between them. They would never understand each other. They shouldn’t be married. And yet, they continued to try. Gavin was convinced that all it would take is that if they both bent a little, they could come together. Years later though, he could see that she was the one who had been bending all this time, giving him an expensive handmade duck call, even as she felt the practice was savage.
Gavin hadn’t realized that he had shut his eyes, until the flap of wings sent his lids flying open. His mouth hung open when he saw the massive white swan that had landed on the water by the bank of the lake, right across from him. As if on autopilot, his hands lifted the rifle, lining up the shot with ease as the swan stepped out of the water to settle on the bank. It began grooming the feathers of its wing with its orange bill, nibbling the feathers until they were straight.
“What the hell am I doing…” Gavin muttered under his breath. He said the words too loud, as if he was willing the swan to hear him and take to the sky again. But the swan continued to arrange its feathers. This was stupid. His hunting license was for brant, coots, ducks and geese. There was no open season to hunt mute swans. Yet, he did not lower his rifle… Something told him that no ducks were coming. This was the only bird he would see today, and if he wanted to shoot something, this was his only chance. He didn’t want to think about anything, so before he’d even made up his mind to do so, his finger squeezed the trigger of his rifle.
Cindy was right. He was a barbarian. But then, Cindy was always right. It happened so fast that he was almost surprised when the swan fell over on the bank of the lake, its white chest feathers now stained with blood. At the crack of the rifle, a startled flock of seagulls squawked as they rose from the reeds and took to the sky, circling the lake once before they vanished over the horizon. As their calls faded with distance, the lake fell into a surreal silence. No more toads singing to their mates, or the buzz of dragonfly wings, or the chirping of crickets. After that shot fired from the rifle, everything in the area was on alert and listening. Gavin was listening too. The very first time his father took him out hunting, he taught Gavin that there is a rule for hunting. Ducks do not mate for life, but geese do. When you shoot a goose, it is cruel to leave without shooting its mate as well, who will come to grieve over the body. If left alone, the bird will slowly die of grief without its partner. Like geese, swans mate for life.
After a minute passed with no mate appearing, Gavin exhaled slowly. “Okay, Melvin. Go get it.” A second later, he remembered that Melvin was at home, so he would have to retrieve the bird on his own. Gavin had just rested his weight on his elbows as he prepared to get up, when a swan silently glided around the bend and then up to the bank. It didn’t step out of the water, but paused beside the dead swan, bowing its head as it looked at the body. It wasn’t moving. The shot was lined up. All he had to do was pull the trigger.
You must wait for the mate, or the bird will grieve itself to death. His father had said. They will have no life without each other.
As Gavin stared down the straight line of his barrel, with his finger on the trigger, tears started to stream down his face. It was like he was grieving with the swan, though the bird wasn’t making a sound. All he had to do was pull the trigger, and she would join her mate. It had been so easy to fire the rifle earlier, yet now his finger was stiff. He hadn’t thought when he fired the first time, and he wasn’t now either… He was frozen. He wanted to see what she would do.
After being so aware of the time all day, suddenly the only way Gavin had to measure time was in the breaths he took, as he watched the swan. She was still for about a dozen breaths. Then she raised her head. She looked at the sky before starting to move away from the bank of the lake, her black webbed feet paddling behind her, sending ripples across the lake. Then she extended her white wings that seemed impossibly wide as she started to swim faster and faster, starting to run across the water before finally taking flight into the bright blue sky.
As she soared high above him, Gavin knew that his father had been wrong about swans, or at least about this particular one. Maybe there was another way… maybe this swan would teach him a new way of doing things. She was the loveliest creature he had ever seen, and strong too. This was not a bird who would grieve herself over her mate, and who was he to say what was best for her, that she must die after her mate was gone? This beautiful bird was now free, as she was always meant to be.