The Between Years

the old Carol would have been successful, before so much power shifted to Randy's favor.

    If his facial expression could have communicated anything, I suppose it would have said, “Yeah, we'll see about that.” After, I left. I just needed to get away from the house, from that man. I wanted to regroup and meditate on how I would regain the power I'd lost, but Randy seemed so determined to keep it.

    So I hopped in the car and cruised out of town. I had no set destination in mind; I just drove until I reached Niagara Falls, and stopped for lunch at a quaint little restaurant removed from the hurly burly of tourism. As it turns out, I arrived before the lunch rush, and was one of the only people in the restaurant, so I picked a table and glanced at a menu. Just then, I realized that my marriage could be in serious trouble. The realization struck me like a hook to the gut and I nearly broke down crying before the wait staff.

    We'd only been married a few years, and I believed that we shouldn't have been entangled in so many problems, but maybe I was being naive. Certainly, we were struggling, and the root of our struggles seemed like such a shame. Having a baby should seem like a logical decision for a loving couple, but it just wasn't logical for us. Randy had made clear to me what he wanted from our marriage, which significantly different from what I wanted, but also violated my principles.

    Hindsight is always 20/20, but I wish I had taken control at all costs when he gave me the cold shoulder. That was the turning point for us. But that wasn't the only event I wish I could have changed, or wish I could have been there for. I wish I could have been present to prevent him from making his deadliest mistakes.

CHAPTER 21
    Randy decided to approach the situation differently this time. If he could defeat his own exhaustion, he figured he could find out if he'd spent the last few days dreaming, or if his exchanges with Kenny had been real. And if they were, he hoped he could buy just a little more time.

    To make the impossible happen, he needed all the time he could get.

    To do this, he sat in his bedroom with a 2-litre bottle of Diet Pepsi, filled a glass, and sipped it a little at a time. Doing so gave him the urge to piss every forty-five minutes or so, which meant having to pass Kenny's room on every trip to the john. When he passed, he resisted the urge to peek inside the door to see if Kenny had returned. But he didn't know when to bother. How was one to pinpoint the time?

    He thumbed through a copy of Richard B. Wright's Clara Callan that he hadn't read for several years, but had enraptured him on the rainy day in which he'd first read it. He rubbed his eyes to fight the oncoming sleep, but it felt like a futile fight. If he had any say in it, he would visit Kenny before he fell asleep, so he closed the book, opened the door, and ventured down the hall.

    The door was open a crack, and a bar of light seeped out into the hall again, but he heard no noise. Kenny had been so full of energy last night that he couldn't believe he could have quieted himself down. Was something wrong? He pushed the door open and was immediately greeted by “Don't you know how to knock?” The phrase ripped through him.

    Randy stepped back, almost paralyzed by the force.

    He panned the room and noticed that the wallpaper had been changed yet again. This time, white paper with multi-colored lines that created square patterns throughout hung on the wall. The carpet was a tasteful white rather than the ass-ugly green carpet that he'd stepped on last night. Kenny kept the same bed, only with a plain bedspread, and a larger wooden writing desk sat next to the window.

    Then he laid eyes upon Kenny and saw that not only had his age accelerated another few years, but he had grown to be exceptionally large for his frame. His legs looked like tree trunks, his middle was thick, and his face was round and doughy. Beneath his chin, Randy found another layer of fat. The buttons on Kenny's shirt stretched to the max and his shorts appeared to be too tight.

    In his hands, Kenny held a book open, which pleased Randy very much. He also noticed a Buffalo Bills poster on the wall, which also pleased him. The room was also very tidy, which surprised him, and he hoped that it was because Kenny was naturally clean, and hadn't needed to be pushed. What displeased Randy was Kenny's slanted eyebrows and reddening face.

    “ Hi.” Randy heard his own