Bears in Traps

I was reminded of something Rhett used to say. I was reminded of it every time I met someone. Every time I interacted with someone. I carried it with me as if it were branded in my marrow. And I could still hear it as if he was saying it to me as I walked into that bank. “For better or for worse, people will surprise you.”

That morning I had looked around that little cabin. Things scattered everywhere. Things that didn’t feel like mine. Didn’t feel like Rhett’s. They were just objects, possessions that we had accumulated so slowly, so absent-mindedly. Pots and pans and clothes. Some porcelain figurines on the dresser. I felt completely detached. I picked up the duffel bag and began to close the door. But with a second thought, I went back and took his coat. A heavy well-worn giant thing that still smelled like him. Mostly of campfire and cigarettes. It could have fit a bear. And the small black notebook next to it which I slipped into one of the coat’s oversized pockets. And with one last look at the place and the objects that had made up the life we called ours, and a heavy feeling of melancholy clenching my chest, I closed the door. And a chapter.

I got in our old truck. My truck. And turned the key in the ignition. And I contemplated life as I drove to the sound of his old rock CD. There are so many categories you could divide people into. Different personality types, different characteristics. Why we feel the need to take personality tests and put ourselves in little boxes always baffled me. Maybe it makes some people feel unique. Maybe it makes others feel less alone. But there are really only four different kinds of people in this world. Good people who only do good things. That’s a rare breed.

Bad people who only do bad things. Also rare. Bad people who do some good things.

And then the most common of all, good people who do bad things.

I screamed.

I cried and beat my fist into the steering wheel as I drove the long winding forest roads. I looked like a crazy person. Maybe I was. And I looked over at the passenger seat, half expecting him to be sitting there.

“Did I not love you enough?” I whispered “Or was I too much of a burden to you? Did I not make you a good enough home, where you felt safe? I so wanted you to feel safe. I hope you felt loved. I felt loved.”

I beat the steering wheel again, angry at the world for being so callous sometimes.

Oh Rhett. He must have felt like a bear in a trap.

Have you ever seen a wild animal in a trap? They do desperate things.

I had walked into the kitchen that fateful night, it had been really coming down outside. Freezing rain. And Rhett was at the table illuminated by a few candles. We couldn’t pay for the lights to be turned back on. And he scribbled away in that little black notebook. I curled up on one of the chairs and pulled a blanket around me while I shivered. I could see my breath. Yes, the heat had been shut off too.

“What are you working on?” I asked . He shut the notebook quickly.

“Nothing baby. You get some sleep. I’m going to make everything ok, I promise.”

And I went to bed that night, not thinking much of it. Because Rhett always did somehow make everything ok. But he slipped out early the next morning and I never got to say goodbye. And I never even got to get angry at him for breaking the last promise he ever made me. Because nothing was ok.

I got out of the truck and slung the duffel over my shoulder. I marched into that bank and asked to see whomever was in charge and they brought out a man. A small man with beady eyes.

“I’m so sorry.” I whispered when he asked what he could do for me.

I placed the duffel bag on the counter.

“I think this belongs here.” And I emptied the contents.

“It’s all there. $20,000”

I turned to walk away.

“Wait!” Stammered beady eyes. “Where did you find this?”

“I stumbled upon it.”

He looked so confused.

“Did you know that man? The bank robber that stole this? He was shot but he got away.”

“Even good people do bad things.” I said. “It doesn’t make it ok, it just makes us human.”

I got back in the truck and drove away, leaving beady eyes still confused and counting the money. I didn’t know where I was going. Maybe for pancakes somewhere far away.

I felt tiny little baby feet moving across my stomach. Yes, blueberry pancakes. In a diner far enough away where no one knew me. And as I drove I thought about what I would tell our child about his father. I wouldn’t know what to say to a small child, but small children understand simple truths. Maybe I would tell him about the man who filled up a doorway like a bear on its back paws. And smelled of campfire. And how good people sometimes do bad things. And how scared animals can do desperate things. And as I drove I thought of the notebook in my pocket. And I thought about throwing it in the river, or burning it. It had been a terrible thing he had done, and it had cost him everything, but it had been a clever plan, I’d give him that. Because Rhett was very clever. It had been poorly executed. But it was clever...