CHAPTER 11
When we got back to the truck, he covered our face with our hands and sobbed. The sobbing soon became an outright breakdown. He screamed at the windshield, banging his fists against the steering wheel. The blows were so hard, I feared he would either break the steering wheel or our hands. He may not have felt the pain from those strikes, but I did.
Gradually the screams faded back to whimpers. We must have sat there for an hour.
Upon reflection, I think we both reached a breaking point. The crying fit was as much mine as his. When finished, we were utterly emotionally, physically, and mentally drained.
The ride home is a complete blank. I can't tell you if we went straight there or stopped along the way. Maybe I passed out from the trauma or was just too spent to care.
I do
