The Tree Line: Chapter 5

Project VERA. That’s all Celeste could think of over the following hour, as she finished cleaning the kitchen and loading the dishwasher.

Cindy was trying to tell her something and also alluded to the fact that Miles knew more than he was admitting.

As soon as the dishes were loaded, she headed to where Miles sat, engaged in a conversation about politics. She practically had to peel him away.

Standing up, he smiled and told the group, “We need to finish this conversation in the morning because I refuse to believe that Senator Mackey will vote to block the tech initiative.”

“Then you are foolish,” said a man that Celeste had not interacted with. He had been the first to show up at their door earlier, wearing only one shoe.

Laughing, Miles replied, “That may be, but I don’t believe Senator Mackey is.”

“He is still a moron,” the man muttered quietly, gesturing toward Miles. Another man looked at him in agreement.

These people acted like they knew Miles.

Twenty minutes later, after Celeste was finally able to get Miles to their bedroom, she slammed the door.

“What is going on Miles?” she demanded.

He was perched on the edge of the bed, removing his shoes.

“What exactly are you referring to, Celeste? A lot has happened today so you need to be specific.”

“With you!” she answered loudly.

Continuing in a loud voice, “You seem pleased to have these people here. Some of them act like they know you. Do they know you? I feel as though I have wandered into a dream. Is this really even happening?”

She felt her face get flushed with heat, anger building. She had been in survival mode for hours, doing what she had to do to get through the day. The weight of the day suddenly felt very heavy, and she crumpled to the bed.

She was frustrated, and in that moment, she hated Miles.

This was not the first time she had felt hatred for him, but it was the first time in a long time.

The memories from twelve years earlier, which she had carefully tucked away, began to resurface. She almost left him then. She had gone so far as to pay a retainer to a divorce attorney.

He wormed his way back in, with tears and words of affirmation. He had promised change. Seeking therapy, going out of his way to “love her properly” as he put it.

She caved. He had a way of making her see things his way. If he weren’t so soft and gentle, she would believe him to be manipulative. He was a chameleon of sorts, though he did not always look the part, he always seemed able to play the part.

His appearance was boring. His face was handsome, almost too perfect, but he chose to dress conservatively. And to act conservatively. This was comforting when they first met. He felt safe amid the chaos of her life. She remembered feeling shielded from the world.

As time passed, especially since his breakdown, she grew to detest his routines. She craved something different. To veer from the agenda, from his endless itineraries.

She wanted to sleep until noon and play in the rain. She wanted him to rip off her clothes and bend her over the kitchen counter. She wanted something, anything that did not feel programmed.

Miles did not have a lot of friends. He never did. When she met him, it had been at a book store. She rounded the corner in the psychology section and there he stood. Peering at a book with intensity. She had never felt drawn to anyone before, but that day, she felt herself staring at him and inching closer until he noticed her presence. He turned to her and said the strangest thing.

“I’ve been waiting for you.”

She blushed and assumed it was a pick-up line.

They had exited the store together, found a small café and talked for hours until the sun disappeared from the sky and the streetlights were on. It was then that they parted. Almost in a trance, she had exchanged numbers with him before walking away, with one more glance over her shoulder.

From that day forward, they were inseparable.

Even the early days were not perfect. Though kind, he was sneaky. She caught him in several little lies, which he liked to refer to as “half-truths.” Though there were red flags, his charming moments were so charming that she felt almost incapable of staying upset with him.

After dating for a year, he had proposed: exactly one year from the day she had met him in the bookstore. He had located a first edition of her favorite novel and tucked a love note inside the pages. She was so taken by the gesture, getting teary-eyed, that she nearly missed him dropping to his knee with a ring in hand.

Planning the wedding resulted in the first major stress in their relationship. He did not invite one person from his past. He had already told her that his parents were deceased, but she assumed he had some relatives or old school friends to invite. He didn’t invite anyone. Not one single person.

He claimed that he had to compartmentalize his past in order to move toward the future. To accomplish this, he had chosen to let go of all relationships. He was hesitant to tell her all the details of his childhood. He had alluded at violence, so she chose not to press the issue.

They lived in relative peace until twelve years ago. His breakdown was sudden. He woke in the middle of the night, rose from the bed and walked out of the house. That house was much smaller than their current one and nestled in the city near a park.

That terrible night, when he was acting strange, she followed him, calling his name. He acted as if he did not hear. He walked beyond their yard and into the city park. After a few minutes, he turned left off the walking path and into the darkness of the forest. He walked straight into a giant tree and instead of turning away, he kept trying to walk forward, bumping into the tree, creating scratches on his face and arms.

As this happened, he repeated the same phrase over and over.

“I am M-29. I am M-29.”

Not sure what to do, she ran from the forest and back to their house to call 911. Miles was placed on a psychiatric hold then stayed in a group home for three months until the doctor felt he was well enough to return home.

Those months were tough. She visited him often and tried to get involved, though he never allowed the release of his medical information. Details were sparse and not enough to ease her mind.

It wasn’t the mental breakdown that had prompted her distaste for him; it was his unwillingness to share his condition and his lack of acknowledgment. He returned home and acted as if none of it had ever happened. He still refused to tell her about his past. When she asked questions, he shut her down. She increasingly felt herself distancing from him. That’s when she consulted an attorney and considered leaving.

He felt her pulling away and that’s when he attempted to show her more love and agreed to a therapist. He had gone, though he insisted on choosing the medical facility and the therapist.

It took a few years to feel normal with him again. He claimed to need peace and insisted on moving to the countryside, where they currently lived. She had found love with him again as they designed the house. The years that followed found them trying for a child, though it never happened.

Returning to the present, she again asked Miles a question.

 “Do you know what’s happening with these people, Miles?”

“No,” he answered quickly and sternly.

“You said earlier that Dr. Neil sounded familiar. Have you remembered anything else?”

“No,” he abruptly said again.

“Have you heard of Project VERA?”

He whipped his head to look at her.

“What did you say?” he asked, rising from the bed.

Sarcastically, she repeated herself.

“I said, have you heard of Project VERA?”

Happening so fast that she could not react, his right hand grabbed her throat, squeezing until all she saw was darkness.