Chapter Text
Tim sits on the only rickety chair, at the equally rickety kitchen table, a table that's seen a lot of action, mug rings, peeling varnish, wonky legs, probably been here since the cabin was built, maybe 60-70 years, probably closer to 90. He chops two potatoes into chunks and tosses them in the only pan , into the already boiled, 'well' water and lights the camping stove again with a lighter. He adds some bacon also chops half an onion, then he sits and stares out of the not so clean window.
"I spy with my little eye, something beginning with T" he laughs to himself as he looks upon scores of trees.
He's been into town today, fresh supplies, a new lighter, batteries for the radio, a new ax. He visited Lucy's grave, visited his son, Tamara is doing a good job of raising the kid, it was not his intention to stay gone, to hand her that task.
He sighs deeply, it's the first time he's been, not to see his Son, he does that twice a month, but visiting Lucy is infinitely harder. Harder in that he doesn't want to leave her there in a box, in the ground, not alone anyhow.
"Hey baby" He holds a bottle of tequila up to the heavens, " I miss you, I miss you so much, I wanna sprout wings like a giant bird and come find you, only girl I ever really loved, you know that right"? He takes a large glug from the bottle, wipes his mouth on the back of his hand, the fiery liquid seers his oesophagus. "I hope you're useful up there, wherever there is, because otherwise why the hell are you gone"? He takes another swig.
"Been to see Leo, he doesn't know how to be around me now, I should feel guilty about that shouldn't I, and I do , a little, I know I have my Daddy issues. I didn't mean to give him reason to have his own. If things had been different.... Just don't judge me ok".
He places the bottle (still open) on the table and stands to fill Kojo's bowl with kibble. His faithful dog, Lucy's faithful dog, he misses her too, has changed a lot over the last nine months, ten if you include the month before he left.
Faithful, Tim rolls the word around his head for a minute or two, and punches the cabinet door, the offended furniture creaks loudly as the top hinge snaps and the door hangs awkwardly on a bottom hinge, Kojo barks at the sudden chaos in the otherwise silent cabin.
"I used to believe Koj, I did, not in a sit in church every Sunday way...., but I did, how could I not? I believed after getting shot, after the virus, I prayed so hard when Caleb took her, and fucking Heath Everett marked her beautiful skin, I believed then and I thought it worked, but that..., that wasn't him, that was..., it wasn't him, I know that now".
Kojo places his head on his front paws, stares at the man who says he is Tim Bradford, the man who used to talk to him in a soft, baby voice, who smiled a lot, he huffs and gets lower to the ground.
"I know, you think I'm full of shit, You were just talking to her as though you believed she was in heaven, that's what you are thinking right? , I did, I did do that, doesn't mean I believe in God, so don't fucking look at me like that, I don't think heaven is run by ...., I think we make our own, and I can't function as a normal human unless I imagine her out of that fucking box, so if you are judging my opinions you should fuck off". He paces , his longer hair a mess from his hands scrubbing through it.
Normal human, he laughs out loud at his choice of words, he hasn't been a normal human since Leo's birthday, a day that started with making love to his wife, and ended with his heart being trampled by a heard of wilderbeast.
"You think I'm a bad Father don't you"? He says reaching for the bottle again. "Maybe I am" he shrugs before taking a long pull, he chokes on the bitter liquid, it comes out of his nose, his eyes watering, drool hanging off his long beard. He tosses the bottle into the grimey kitchen sink, if it wasn't chipped before it sure is now. He wipes his face on his sleeve, sitting beside Kojo.
"I love Leo, I do, hell, I didn't expect to have a kid at 47, but..., looking at him.., the day he was born, my heart never felt fuller, and seeing your Mom labor, bring him into the world, she was awesome Koj, she was incredible, watching her face, the way it went from excruciating pain to pure joy..., I can't be this with him, you understand right? He deserves someone whole, I'm not that, not anymore, not now, maybe never".
He stands and opens the cabin door, it's starting to get dark, he leaves the door for Kojo to follow him if he chooses, and steps out onto the stoop, down the three steps, his boots crunching the dried leaves and twigs under his feet, the only other sounds are the woods, or the miriad creatures that live in there.
It takes Kojo a beat, but eventually he crosses the threshold. He doesn't particularly look invested, but he's there, sighing, he does that a lot lately, he huffs a lot too. Tim looks down at him. "We need to bring some water in, get it boiled, shit, shit , shit". He runs in and pulls the pan off the camping stove, no water left, the smell of burnt potatoes fills the tiny cabin . He tosses the pan out of the door and shouts out in frustration, it upsets a few of the creatures, sleeping birds are ruffled. "I wasn't hungry anyway". He says sitting on the steps, his head in his hands.
He should cry, he wants to cry, has never, not since she died, not even at the funeral, it just doesn't happen, it's not lack of love, he has that in droves, his heart aches with the fullness of love that he has nowhere to put. At first, that afternoon at the hospital, he was in denial, the following month he was numb, it felt like he was having an out of body experience, people had conversations he couldn't hear, his head stuffed with cotton balls. He floated around, Tamara moved in fully, when she realized he was not taking care of himself or Leo.
At the funeral, he just stared into space, watching a bird, not the ground, not the rectangular hole where his beautiful, ray of sunshine was being lowered into darkness forever. He held Leo in his arms , his little arms around his neck, that was the last time he held his child like that.
The trial had seen the numbness replaced by anger, not just anger, pure unadulterated rage, he hasn't slept in his house since the trial, mostly because he doesn't trust himself anymore, doesn't know who he is anymore. Hasn't been to work either, ditched his phone when the calls became too much to ignore , has the SIM, he has pictures on there that are very personal, he just can't look at them yet.
Kojo keeps looking up at him, but when Tim makes eye contact he looks away, Tim rolls his eyes, "Obviously you have something to say, just spit it out".Kojo simply sighs, "Or don't" Tim grumbles, he heads to the well, it's a ten minute walk, his grandpa didn't make anything easy when he built this place. Kojo follows at a careful distance. Everyone gives him a wide berth lately. Angela had tried to be his friend, but his issues with Wesley's job had resurfaced when Lucy's killer walked free.
Tim had told her in no uncertain terms that they were unwelcome in his life, to back the fuck off, to get way out of his breathing space. He stops in his tracks, "Gonna have to go back into town, I don't have a fucking pan to put the water in, can we just crash? Worry about life tomorrow? It's overrated anyhow".
Kojo follows him back to the cabin, Tim gets his bedroll and sets it up on the stoop, his arm under his head as he stares skyward, "Night baby, please watch over our boy, I'm not strong enough to be his Daddy, I can barely take care of myself, I could use some of your stubborn strength, your bloody mindedness, but I can't find it, just like I can't find tears".
He sleeps eventually, he fights it, his body is exhausted, his mind in constant battle, always full, of his own voice, her soft tones, conversations they shared, laughter , it's a nice place to be but it never shuts off, and when he sleeps, when he closes his eyes , he sees blood, so much blood, he smells the hospital, sees the eyes of his work buddies, his sister, his Mom, all full of pity, so he sleeps rarely and only in increments. His awake thoughts are much more pleasant.
Anyone would think he's going crazy, The way he talks to himself, to Kojo, to that random squirrel, or the crickets and the fireflies. Tim would argue , there's no going about it, it happened ten months ago and looks apt to stay, yeah he's safer here, away from people, away from Leo, away from living.