so reckless you might start feeling; beth

[bethlehem]

I can get there on my own. you can leave me here alone.

He watches her.
Studies her, even.
But her expression betrays nothing beyond the soft furrow in her brow.
She turns her face up to him but does not immediately speak.

And he lets her soften her edges against him. He lets her look at him and he remains still and steadfast as long as she needs him to. He just goes on staring back at her, breathing evenly despite the way his pulse still beats around the sound of their daughter’s name.

Finally, she speaks. Or relents. Or summons whatever courage she needs that he cannot give her, whatever strength she needs to cross through this hallowed ground. He wonders, if their daughter came this way, if she felt any pull to the land. If she could feel her mother’s connection to it in the muscles and the sinew and the bone marrow. He wonders if the vipers share any kind of special connection.

“I’m right here,” he says and he kisses her head when she offers up that slanted, uncertain smile. It is perhaps the first time he has ever offered comfort without being asked for it. It does not corrode his throat the way he might have thought it would. It does not stick sideways, does not shred the surface of his tongue. It does not make him bleed. Not even when he kisses her head and takes the first series of steps into the unfamiliar kingdom.

BETHLEHEM

I'm just tryin' to do what's right. oh, a man ain't a man unless he's fought the fight.