As the limelight of Damien’s hit song faded, wars erupted in the world again, but Utah married life was comparatively tame.
“I couldn’t find Kim Carnes. Why her, Milly? Just 'cause she looks like you?”
“No🎵.”
“There are better singers.”
“Her voice makes her interesting.”
Damien shrugged.
“She seemed like a whole person,” Milly said. “A mother. I wish I could’ve known her. She wrote songs for herself and for others — even men. She was also a producer.”
“Now, there’s an idea! Well, I got you this record instead.”
🎵 “Hey Nineteen” - Steely Dan 🎵
“And something else …” Like a magician, he yanked a sheet off a cage.
Milly looked forlorn. “To eat?”
Damien laughed his ass off; the caged white bunny panicked. “I thought you had rabbits on your farm. What about a kitten?”
“Even worse,” she said firmly. “I told you I don’t want a pet.”
“Why do you talk that way?”
“What way?”
“That way. Crisp t’s: ‘want a pet.’”
“So?”
He squinted with annoyance. “OK, one last birthday present. Stand in front of the mirror and close your eyes.”
She obliged.
Damien stood near. “Remember my first concert?”
“Of course.”
“That cover song I sang, then pointed at you?”
“Um.”
“Well, I found their T-shirt, an original! Cost me a fortune, the old antique.” He held it to her chest. “Open your eyes!”
She did. The stylistic dot-matrix logo read:
— The Killers
Milly frowned as her shoulders sank.
They never discussed the Homestead.
Damien scowled. “Well, what do you want?”
“To travel, go back to martial arts, finish college, and have friends.”
“Aren’t I enough? Why?”
“Because I’m a human being.”
“That’s the stupidest thing I’ve ever heard. No more touring for anyone, not now, not with this shit going on. But we’ll go back to Hawai’i for our anniversary.”
Milly returned from a shower sometime later. “Where’s the rabbit?” The cage was empty.
“I let it outside,” Damien said, fixing himself a cocktail.
“It’s not a wild rabbit. It won’t last a day.”
“It’ll be fine. What’s the big deal? Want a drink?”
She stared out the window at the scrub and dust.
Pause. From the past, threading through The Now, just now, a connection has formed — in the future. Here, time isn’t linear like sheet music strumming forward — it’s one tapestry, knitted together, constantly changing.
Caged rabbit — connected. But how? Where? Unsealing the Homestead? That’s unclear.
Though tangled, those words will soon weave sense. Hold tight.
Milly sighed, then walked away.
The next semester, Milly resumed college. She got a partial scholarship offer from a corporation. She could have taken out a Government loan. But Damien insisted on paying her tuition. He bragged of his generosity to everyone.
He probably wanted to feel as though Milly owed him, too — his possession, his pet. That’s part of Damien’s personality type, his damage. Milly hid her own. Their bond: penned by unspoken trauma.