Please visit breakerwhiskey.com for more information or to send a message to Whiskey's radio. Breaker Whiskey is an Atypical Artists production created by Lauren Shippen. If you'd like to support the show, please visit patreon.com/breakerwhiskey. As a patron, you will also receive each week's episodes as one longer episode every Monday. ------ [TRANSCRIPT] [click, static] Hey Birdie. I’m, uh, I’m on route to Santa Fe, now, I guess. It’s a place I’ve always wanted to go—it’s supposed to be beautiful, and cultural, and it’s very much on my route, so…

Not that I have a route. I have to stop following invisible rules. Just because it’s the next major city on the highway I’m currently following doesn’t mean that— (sighs) Harry fucking loves Santa Fe. She’s been a bunch of times. I guess they have—had—a pretty vibrant art scene out there and she used to talk about how gorgeous it was, how delicious the food was, how much she’d like to show me— [click, static] Actually, maybe I don't want to go, I don’t know. I’m not sure I want to see it with— [click, static] No, no, I should go. I’ve never been. I haven’t traveled very much and basically never for the purposes of leisure—a trip taken for the sole purpose of eating and drinking and looking at extraordinary things, that’s…  …well, I guess that’s what I’m doing now, kind of. Even if it…feels different.  If I really could send a postcard, I’d put one right in the mail for her from…whatever Santa Fe’s most famous museum is. Show her what she’s missing. Show her what she could be doing if she would just stop— [click, static] That—that was our last fight. Well, our last huge fight. I think I—I maybe mentioned that we weren’t talking all that much the last few months before I left and that’s true. What we did say to each other wasn’t particularly civil, but it was all…inconsequential. Bitching to each other about house chores or making snide comments… The fight that led to that cozy atmosphere was—it wasn’t about Santa Fe, specifically, but about…the outside world. I wanted to—well, I wanted to do this, what I’m doing, right here. What I’ve been doing, for the last four months. And she… [click, static] She wanted to stay inside. She wanted to protect us from the world by keeping us from it. Even though we had every reason to believe that we wouldn’t get caught if we ventured further out. And I tried to convince her, I tried to explain that even if there were other people out there, clearly we wouldn’t be a priority. I tried to make her see that the likelihood of running into anyone who even knew who we were or what we did was so slim, but she just… She dug her heels in, like she always fucking does. She’s intractable when she wants to be, and trust me, she wants to be a lot. It’s what made living with her such a fucking nightmare. Everything had to be just so and she would be so condescending when I didn’t get the temperature of the tea right or whatever the fuck it was and the most infuriating thing is that I know she didn’t actually care if I did it right, she just enjoyed riling me up, wanted to pass the time somehow, wanted to exert control over whatever she could, which I get because I was the same way with the endless house repairs, which drove her insane because she wanted to build a home and “how can you turn a house into a home when you treat it like the Winchester mystery house!” That’s what she’d say. “Not even the spirits would put up with the constant work.”  It’s good. Yeah, it’s good that I got out of there. Because I haven’t been to Santa Fe, I hadn’t been to Colorado, I haven’t seen the Pacific. She has. She’s done all of that. She could stay inside and be content and root where she was planted or whatever but I need sunlight to grow and I tried to tell her that. I tried to tell her that I couldn’t see a future for us if we stayed stuck— [click, static] Jesus christ, I’m—I don’t know what I’m saying. She really…she drives me up a wall and I miss her and— [click, static]