Beau didn't know how much longer he could take it. Once, sometimes twice a week, he sat down to dinner with his brother's family. His nephews would curse and shoot spitballs while Dustin roared on the subject of any idiotic conviction that hit his head. Hell would be raised and plates would occasionally be thrown. But having been graced with a certain amount of patience, Beau could tolerate his brother and nephews well enough. It was witnessing the slow deterioration of his sister-in-law that tore him apart.
When Beau first met Cherise, she had been the sort of woman that could stop traffic with a glance. The ground quaked beneath her feet by the sheer force of her confidence and nonchalance. She had been charismatic and witty. Beautiful, even. The Cherise that presently sat across from Beau was barely a pale shadow of her former self. She made every effort to be as invisible and unassuming as possible. She fashioned her days around what she was cooking for dinner. She never even combed her hair.
Cherise looked up at Beau and smiled weakly when she caught him staring. Her hazel eyes were dull and sunken. He would have given anything to see a look of real happiness on her face.
To Beau, Cherise was living proof that the caste system was not without its flaws. If nothing else, it placed the emphasis was on marrying immediately, marrying correctly and spending your youth popping out as many hideous, sniveling brats as possible. Cherise had not been born to live like this. Of that, Beau was certain. He smiled back at her as convincingly as he could manage.
"You got a girlfriend yet, Beau," Dustin shot at him from across the table. Cherise's mouth went slack.
"Uhh, no." Beau stabbed the salad at the center of the table, thinking to himself that Dustin was at his most annoying when his interjections were apropos to Beau's ponderings.
"Well don't you think that it's about time you got one," Dustin prodded. Beau shrugged. Dustin turned to Cherise for an affirmation. "Talk some sense into him, won't you," Dustin demanded.
"Actually dear, I don't think that there are any girls for Beau's age and caste." Cherise was speaking to Dustin but staring directly at Beau. Dustin snorted.
"That's true enough," he mumbled.
"When I grow-up," Joaquin interjected. "I'm not going to get married. Girls piss me off." Beau's eyes widened.
"You probably shouldn't say things like that in front of you mother, you know," Beau said.
"She knows I don't mean her," Joaquin replied. Beau furrowed his brow. Evidently, even the children had gotten into the habit of talking about Cherise as though she wasn't there.
"I know," Dustin said. "What about that girl down the street? The Mindelsohn girl? The one with the big knockers?" Beau wrinkled his nose.
"She's like twelve or something," Beau said, growing vaguely nauseated.
"Oh." Dustin began to stare off into space, no doubt lost in maze of stupidity. Then, seemingly without provocation, his face contorted into a look of rancor.
"It's a goddamn shame, isn't it? Our people are so deep in Townie-borns that a forth generation kid like you can't even find a girl his own age. Makes me sick. Townies are getting so uppity these days, they got no qualms with talking to our women. I wouldn't even be surprised if that Mindelsohn girl doesn't carry around a pocketknife or something to fight them off. We've been coddling these sons of bitches for too long and it's all because we got families like the Calientes running this town. Did you know that Siren Caliente's biological father was a Townie? And I don't mean a Townie-born. I mean a filthy, full-blooded Townie right down to the day he died."
"Now, I don't have no problems with Townies so long as they know their place. But when they come around here and start threatening my job and my family and my way of life, that's when we run into some problems. I've said it before and I'll say it again- We have got to get organized. It's about time someone put the fear of God back into the sort of trash that's been filtering up into our community." Dustin Broke, the sage of Pleasantview's lower west side, was in rare form that night. Silence glazed the dinner table like a thick sheet of ice. Cherise shattered it with a cough.
"Granddad says that all they're after is our women. Our sisters and our daughters and our wives," Peter recited to the table. Cherise gave him a pained look.
"Your grandfather is not to talk to you about such things. You may tell him that from me." Cherise's voice was low and trembling. Peter stared quizzically at this woman who had spoken without being directly addressed.
"Don't worry Mom. Nobody better dare try to hurt you while I'm around." Joaquin shouted as though Cherise were deaf. Dustin patted his son on the head. Cherise tossed the napkin from her lap onto the table.
"If you'll excuse me," she said under her breath. Dustin cleared his throat.
"Alright. Let's do something nice for your Momma and get this table cleaned off," Dustin said to the boys. They groaned in unison. Baby Isolde tossed her bowl to the floor and squealed with laughter at her trick.
"That's a no-no, Zizi," Dustin yelled at the baby who screamed just to hear her own voice.
"I'm going to head home after we get the leftovers put away," Beau called out over the din.
"Yeah sure. Same time next week?" Dustin's invitation filled Beau with an insurmountable dread but he attempted a smile nonetheless.
"I'll be here with bells on."
Outside, autumn was seeping into the air and stripping the trees. Beau caught sight of Cherise, adrift upon an ocean of dead leaves. Time was limply suspended in the ether like a tangled marionette. Beau took his place beside her. It seemed an eternity before she spoke.
"Isabella Fiorello famously wrote that even in a forest, a tree remains a universe whole unto its self and thinks not of its brothers when it strangles a sapling for want of soil."
"That is rather bleak."
"It was her treatise on the human condition. Even in a crowd, we are left alone to strangle or suffocate."
"You are not alone, Cherise." She opened her mouth to respond but no sound came forth. Beau tried to read her face but found the task difficult in the dark. He resolved to step blindly through the void of her speechlessness, unsure of what she was thinking or how she would react. "And I want you to know that I care about you more than I care about anybody."
"You don't even come to visit me anymore during the day." Beau hung his head.
"I know. I'm sorry." All of his feeble excuses dried up before they even hit his tongue.
"I hate him," Cherise spat. "I hate him and sometimes... Sometimes I hate the kids too. And I hate myself for hating them." Beau watched her hands as they balled into fists at her sides and reacting almost instinctually, he placed his hand on top of hers. Cherise inhaled sharply and yanked her hand away as though his touch had scorched her. Beau had a sinking feeling in the pit of his stomach.
They sat in an uncomfortable silence for a time, Cherise staring out into the yard and Beau studying the subtle curve of her neck. The wind soaked through Beau's shirt, piercing his skin. But he refused to leave things as they were.
"Run away with me." He didn't know what had compelled him to say it. And though the suggestion immediately horrified him, it also seemed strangely right.
"What did you say?" Beau gathered his courage. He slipped his arm around her shoulders. He had meant it the first time.
"Run away with me." Cherise giggled airily. It was the first laugh that he had heard from her in- He didn't like to think of how long. "Don't even bother to pack. Let's just go."
"And leave my kids?" Beau smiled at the fact that she was willing to treat this as a real suggestion.
"Absolutely leave the kids." Cherise smiled but her eyes were tragic. She was no doubt thinking of what a relief it would be.
"Where would we go," she whispered.
"I don't know. Riverblossom?"
"Uh uh. There's no way I'm starting over in that po-dunk town."
"Ok. How about Veronaville?"
"We could never afford Veronaville."
"Bluewater then? Strangetown? Alpinloch? Stop me when I'm getting close here." Cherise shook her head and squealed with laughter when he pinched her side. She was just like a girl.
"Oh I know," he said. "We'll just live downtown with the Townies. That would make Dustin happy." Cherise drew closer to him, her laughter subsiding. She laid her head on his shoulder and placed her hand on his thigh. He told himself that she was only trying to keep warm. "I'd do it, you know," Beau said softly. "Whatever I have, I would leave it behind. All you'd have to do is ask."
