Coming Home to Greenleigh

Chapter 34

"Concrete Angel"

(feat. Christina Novelli)
Let me breath you in
And breath the words in your mouth
Inside your shivering, the silence shouts so loud
I just want to, I just want to stay around
And while my heart beats I promise I won't let you down.

If I'm somewhere else it doesn't mean that I don't see
That you don't trust yourself, that's why you don't trust me
It makes me crazy, when you're crazy, you don't speak
You think you know me, but what you know is just skin deep.

If you keep building these walls

Brick by brick towers so tall
Soon I won't see you at all
Till the concrete angel falls
I knew who you were from the start
But now I don't know who you are
Soon there will be nothing at all
Till the concrete angel falls.

If you keep building these walls
Brick by brick towers so tall
Soon I won't see you at all
Till the concrete angel falls
I knew who you were from the start
But now I don't know who you are
Soon there will be nothing at all
Till the concrete angel falls.

Written by
Ben Collier, Christina Novelli, Dee Adam & Gareth Emery

*****

"He's gone!" she cried. His window was up and her voice did not reach the car, but he could read her lips and see her trembling hands.

Gone? What did she mean by gone?

Shawn stared, uncomprehending, his grip on the phone slackening. Elisabeth was holding out the phone, saying something, but he couldn't hear her.

Then he saw a figure running toward them from down the street, wearing some kind of flapping garment, sliding precariously in the icy slush on the pavement. It was Christine, in a bathrobe and slippers.

"Shawn!" she called, a high, desperate squeak in her voice. She, too, was holding a phone in one hand, waving it frantically.

The world is crazy, he thought. What the hell? We're all three of us out in the Thanksgiving cold, waving our phones at each other. We're insane.

He fumbled at the switch on the door for what felt like an impossible length of time before he managed to put the window down. Christine was still jogging toward them, gasping out clouds of white mist, still trying to spit out words that he couldn't quite make out. As she got closer, he could see her lips moving, and the words started to coalesce into sounds he recognized.

"I tried—to call you—" she wheezed.

He didn't feel like yelling back in the Thanksgiving morning silence in Greenleigh, so he said nothing, inwardly cringing as he thought of the neighbors parting their curtains and gazing in horror at Church Street's latest homeowner running around half-dressed in the cold. He turned instead to look at Elisabeth, who was staring in frozen shock at Christine.

Shawn wondered for a moment if Elisabeth's boiler had finally given up the ghost—perhaps the heat had failed, her pipes had burst, her roof had caved in because the ice dams were finally diverting snow melt and rain into the house. But no, he realized. She had unloaded all those problems. She no longer needed him to take care of the house. That couldn't be the problem. She was done with all of that, had done the smart thing and gotten out from under all of her Greenleigh woes.

Wasn't that what all of this was about, anyway?

Christine had stopped running and was walking now. She was clutching her side, her breathing ragged. "Shit," he heard her mutter, and he almost laughed, remembering that she had once run marathons. Except this wasn't funny.

"I tried—I tried to get you," she said. "You didn't pick up."

"Sorry," Shawn said. "But you knew we were gone. We were coming back this morning."

"Yes, yes, I know." Christine was at the side of the car now. She wore a thin pink silk nightgown and matching pink silk slippers, which were now ruined with mud and wet. She had pulled on a thick white robe but she was still shivering. She reached out to the car door with one hand to steady herself, pulling her robe more tightly around herself with the other hand.

"Beth, what's wrong? Isn't the car coming at ten?" Shawn glanced at the dashboard clock. "It'll be here soon."

"He's gone, Shawn. He's gone." Elisabeth choked on the last word. "Gunnar's gone."

"I saw him," Christine said, still breathing hard. "He came over this morning. Early. Banged on my door like a crazy person."

"He left all these messages." Elisabeth held out the phone. "I didn't bring my phone to New York. I'd forgotten it, it was charging in the kitchen."

"Wait. Wait. I don't get it. What do you mean, gone?" Shawn was shaking his head. "Where did he go? And isn't the car coming in—" he looked at the clock "—ten minutes?"

"There's no car, Shawn. This is all my fault," Elisabeth said. Her voice sounded strange, low and hoarse.

"Let me, Beth." Christine held up a hand. "Be quiet for a moment." She turned to Shawn. "Last night, Gunnar must have been trying to get in touch with Beth. He was calling her and texting her, and she wasn't replying. I don't think he thought that was a big deal. Beth probably forgets she even has a phone half the time. But he started to think something was wrong, so he showed up at her house this morning. And she wasn't home. And then he—he knew. He knew that you two were together. And he went nuts."

"He thought I was backing out of it—all of it," Elisabeth said.

Christine turned to her. "Well, are you?" She looked back at Shawn, then at Elisabeth again.

"No!" Elisabeth cried. "No! I'm here! I'm ready!"

"This is all stupid," Shawn said tightly. "I don't know what Gunnar's deal is, but Beth is here and ready to leave. I got her here on time, and it's all good. If he weren't acting like an idiot, everything would fine. Jesus Christ."

"Well, he's ditched the car and he's gone," Christine said. "He was shouting at me at six in the morning and I had no idea what he was talking about, except—obviously—I knew where you were last night. I didn't tell him, but I didn't have to. Listen, Beth—" she turned to her again "you've got to stop being in denial about Gunnar. He is so in love with you. Poor kid. You've got to clear this up with him. You can't pretend you're someone not worth loving. It's never been true for him. He's seen the real you. This charade—it's lame and it's cruel."

"I know that," Elisabeth snapped. "I know. I told you, this is all my fault. I screwed up. But what do I do now? He's gone, and I'm here. I tried calling him but he's not picking up. I'm getting this weird robot voice, and I've left messages, but I don't know if I'm getting through."

"Grab your bags. I'll drive you. You'll have to have this out with him at the airport. Or God forbid, on the plane," Shawn said, opening the door. Christine leapt back just in time to avoid her hand being slammed into the door. He leapt up the stairs and pushed past Elisabeth in the doorway.

"Where are your bags?" he called.

"Front room," she said, her voice hesitant. "But Shawn, are you sure? It's Thanksgiving."

"Yeah, I know what day it is. What airport?"

"Boston."

"Boston! Are you freaking kidding me? Why the hell are you flying out of Boston? He could have picked somewhere closer!"

"I don't know, I don't know. Please, Shawn, don't scold me, I don't know! He bought the tickets, I have no idea why he had us fly out of Boston."

"That's two hours away. We may not make it," he muttered. He picked up a suitcase in each hand. "Is this it?"

"Yes. I've got a carry-on, but this is all. Are you sure you want to do this?"

"Beth, if you want to be in Seattle with Gunnar, you have no choice." He tried not to sound sarcastic and wasn't sure if he had succeeded, but she backed away from the doorway and let him pass.

Shawn paused, took one last look around. The house was swept clean of knick-knacks and personal items, although there was still furniture in it, awaiting valuation. It looked sanitized, like a hospital room. Its personality was largely gone, without the detritus of the history of the Burnham family lying about, collecting dust. The dust, he realized, was part of the Burnham legacy. A new family would create a new legacy, minus the Burnham dust.

I keep thinking that this is it. But there's always another painful step. One more band-aid to tear off.

He turned away. "We need to hurry," he said over his shoulder.

"You guys. Please tell me what happens," Christine was saying. She was shivering, hopping from one foot to the other as she stood watching Shawn load the suitcases into the trunk. "I am going to go mad from worrying. I'm having Thanksgiving with my cousin in Vermont, but you have my number. Please don't forget."

"I'm sorry, Christine," Elisabeth said. "Thank you for everything. I know you did all the shopping for me."


Christine's face brightened. "I hope everything fit."

"Yes," Elisabeth nodded. "Even the ridiculous negligee."

Christine beamed, then threw her arms around her. "I am thinking about you. Every minute. I'm sorry you're not staying. But I'm happy if you're happy."

"We need to get out of here," Shawn said. He opened the driver's side door, but paused for a moment before leaning over to hug Christine. He did not speak—he wasn't able to say the words, but he knew she understood. He'd tried his best, she'd tried her best. He was going to see this through to the end, no matter how much it hurt.

"Don't crash the car," Christine whispered. There were tears in her eyes, but she sniffled and stepped back from the street.

"I won't," he said.

He fastened his seat belt, adjusted the rearview mirror. Another long drive, only this time to take the woman he loved to a man who loved her. His enemy—no, that sounded too strong, his rival. Would she have the courage to do the right thing, he wondered. Would she be able to break up with Gunnar in an airport? On a plane? On a friend's couch? What if she fell in love with Gunnar after all?

How was one supposed to do this, anyway? Was there a playbook for awkward breakups? If there was, he felt he was probably the author. But he wasn't going to help Elisabeth out with this one. She was on her own.

Elisabeth had gone up the stairs again. He watched as she pulled the door shut, then tried the knob to make sure it had latched. Her back was to him, but he knew that this was the most difficult moment of this entire process. She was leaving Greenleigh, and not even able to borrow Gunnar's strength with which to do it.

She turned and caught his eye. She gave him a little nod, then descended the staircase.

The sound of the car door slamming. The click of the seatbelt. Then a deep breath.

"Let's do this," Shawn said.