Escape Artist

"I’m an idiot." 

Sharing the weight of their problems didn’t make him any less angry. He was angry at himself for putting Astrid through marriage. He was angry at the fact that the couple that preached that he and Lilly tried working out their relationship were the very same couple that weren’t going to last themselves. He was angry at Dustin for being so distant. He was angry at Senoia for being so far from the city. And he was angry at himself for not being able to tell the future; the latter proving how serious of an issue his anger problem was. The only good thing at that moment was that he wasn’t hitting anything or anyone.

I'm an idiot.

Oh, if only there were words for how right he was. Astrid wanted to scream at him, to punch him and hit him and tell him that they were both so stupidly blind, but she couldn't. Even when she opened her mouth, no sound came, save for a whimper preceding a fresh wave of tears. If only she had been the one with the gift for words, then maybe she could have told him sooner; maybe she would have told him as soon as she learned his own marriage was crumbling. 

It was no small miracle that she made it to the stairs without falling on her face or taking Griffin down with her. Hesitance came up to bat momentarily before her hand slipped into his, forcing her to marvel at the sheer warmth he radiated. Once upon a time, she fancied that she had given the same warmth to him.

His grip only tightened around her. “Come on, we’re going downstairs,” was all he said before pulling her towards the stepladder. 

"I--" Her voice wasn't meek, but there was a quaver of sadness as her own struggling ceased. "I tried to tell you. I've been trying, I thought you'd see, I thought-- I just thought... I thought..." She sniffed, "Stupid, stupid, stupid."  

Astrid allowed herself to be pulled, shakily standing on her feet while trying to rub her face with her free hand.

It scared him, but at that moment, not as much as the wine glass flying in his general direction. 

"Jesus –" he ducked to the side to avoid being hit by the glass or it’s shattered pieces. "Christ. What the fuck, Astrid?”

Launching a glass at Griffin wasn't the least she could do, but it wasn't the most either. In her current state, Astrid wanted nothing more than to lash out, to scream and hit and attempt to drown out her sorrows with noise. Unfortunately, she couldn't; actually, she couldn't even fend Griffin off when he had grabbed her wrists. She couldn't do anything, but that wasn't new... was it?

Any mention of Dustin caused her rage to swell and even a shock of fear to jolt through her. Dustin was the last person she wanted to see, especially when she was trying so damn hard.

"DUSTIN IS WHAT'S WRONG!" 

She struggled -- in vain, inevitably -- but the force of the tears dripping down her face and the alcohol that slowed her reaction time proved to be too much. Eventually, Astrid just tugged her arm as if Griffin might feel sory enough to let go of her wrist.

"You stupid, stupid, stupid boy." 

Her words hit him like a punch to the sternum. Flinching from the invisible hit, he ducked under a rafter to follow her. “I know the answer but I’m going to ask anyway. Are you okay?” 

The question he asked was an important one, but it took Astrid a bit of thinking. Instead of answering right away, she turned sluggishly and headed in the direction of her belongings. Somewhere, there was a half-empty bottle of wine. Somewhere.

After she had staggered about long enough and had found the bottle, Astrid looked to the glass in her hands and gave it a good once over.

"Hmm--" She wasn't considering much, though, for she launched the glass  -- one of a very expensive set -- across the room. It shattered only seconds later.

Griffin approached her as though she were a wild animal, carefully and quietly. “Okay, I don’t think you should be up here,” he extended a hand towards her. “You might fall down the stairs.”

Something about the way Griffin said she shouldn't be in the attic caused Astrid to snap, to saunter away from him as a form of sheer indignation. "Excuse me, but this is my house! This is mine and I can go wherever I want, thank you very much." 

Really? You’re definitely the best. I can’t wait for these lessons. Then I can use that dusty piano at our house and show off to my mom.

"A friend...?"

"I'm... very glad you're making friends. How lucky." Drunk -- no, tipsy? Yes, that's what she was. And she was angry -- beyond that. Such a combination coupled with the anxiety medication she had been using proved to be a little more than she could handle.

I don’t think anybody can help me now but our Lord and Saviour, Jesus Christ. But by all means, give it a shot. 

It’s a trainwreck, that’s what it is. This is what happens when you involve the government in your personal affairs – a shit ton of paperwork. There’s either something wrong with me or something wrong with her and right now, the evidence points towards me. I wish it didn’t happen though. Everything was fine until we decided it would be a great idea to have a kid. 

In my experience, "our lord and savior" is usually busy with other things. I don't see the point in wasting His time, especially when He and I don't believe in one another.

If it was a trainwreck, I'm afraid you would be dead. Life goes on. You adapt. Would you trade those few moments you had with Anne-Marie for the sake of your marriage? 

There's nothing wrong with you, Griffin. There never was.

We all have our vices. 

It’s true! I definitely owe ya. I’ll even pay ya for them too. I can go home and see how much lessons go for and we can work it out together.

There's no need to pay me. I'm just happy to be teaching, or... to at least have some outlet for music again. If nothing else, it should provide an excuse to have the piano properly tuned. 

I’ll tell you this right now though, I can sum up every stage of my marriage with a set of three pretty words. Three pretty words can change everything. We started off with “I love you”, then ended with “I hate you” and in the middle there was “She is gone”. Now it’s, “she said no”. 

Did you hear that?

I caved. I called her. A week into September, I told her it worked, that being in Senoia to reflect made me realize that I was a moron for putting distance between us when Anne - Marie died – for pushing the only remaining good thing in my life away from me. I said if we scrapped this divorce idea, we could make this work and she said no. 

So maybe you’re wrong and I’m exactly who I think I am.

Griffin... Oh, Griffin. 

Let me help you. Please.  Let me help you... because I can't help myself.

Marriage is, no -- marriage isn't this lovely, fairy-tale thing. It's monstrous, Griffin, and you shouldn't base your worth on the fact that Lilly is determined not to make things work. Maybe... in some bittersweet way, this is for the best? Bitter because it's over and sweet because it happened, yes?