In the Stillness

CHAPTER 17



Like any parent of the internet generation, I spend the twins’ nap time Googling causes of hearing loss in pediatrics. The most common—and most rational—explanation is fluid build up in the inner ear. The least likely, of course, is a rare brain tumor. Everything in between sends my head spinning. The teacher did mention auditory processing issues, which does seem to be in line with Oliver’s overall behavior lately. When there’s a lot going on around him, he can’t seem to focus on the voice he should.

I’m so wrapped up in WebMD, that it’s not until Eric’s number pops up on my cell phone that it registers he was a no-show for the screening today.

“Yeah?” I answer in a bored tone.

“How’d the screening go, Babe?” He sounds awfully upbeat for someone who didn’t bother to show up.

“Everything went fine. They suggested we get Oliver’s hearing tested, though.”

“Really, why?”

“Because when his back is turned he’s not as responsive as he should be. Sometimes not responsive at all. Haven’t you ever noticed that?”

Eric pauses for a long time. “I guess, but . . . isn’t he just being a kid?”

“I don’t know, Eric. Jesus, I’m not the Audiologist. When will you be home?” I’ve grown tired of the conversation.

He hesitates. “Late.”

“Perfect,” I blurt out, “see you then.”

I hang up and immediately call the Audiologist the school recommended to me. Luckily, they can see us in two weeks—a few days before Eric’s graduation. I guess until then, we’re going to sit around and wait, and I’ll try not to stare at Ollie like he’s a bomb ready to go off at any moment.

* * *

“How’s he doing?” Tosha asked, a couple of weeks after I told her about Ryker’s first nightmare. We were walking around Amherst, catching up after she’d gone on vacation to Maine with Liz. They were a serious couple and so happy.

“I think things are leveling out, finally. We still don’t spend the night with each other, but I think that has more to do with him not wanting to have another nightmare when I’m in bed next to him. He hasn’t said that, but . . . what other reason could he have for not wanting to stay over?”

I noticed little things, like him reaching across his shoulder every time we walked down the stairs. At first I thought it was his injury bothering him, but he told me it was habit, not wanting his gun to knock on the wall on the way down even though he wasn’t wearing one. That had started to fade over the last week, but his eyes always darted around no matter where we were.

“How are you doing . . . with everything?” Tosha knew I cut sometimes, but we didn't talk much about it after the time she caught me. She just asked me not to be stupid and told me if it got out of hand she would call my parents.

I’d never tell her this, but her threat made me really good at hiding it.

“Eh, I’m fine.” I shrugged.

“If Ryker finds out, Nat . . .”

She had legitimate concerns about Ryker’s potential reaction to my cutting. He’d been really snappy with me when he thought I was being too quiet, or tiptoeing around him. My fear of his reaction actually prevented me from cutting much, for a little while.

“He won’t, it’s fine. We’re actually going out to dinner tonight. It’s our first real date night since that party at UMass—”

“Where he lost his shit?”

“That’s the one. We’re just going to Judie’s, though. Not a rough crowd like the frat parties.” I giggled. “I’ll call you when I get home.”

Tosha hugged me. “You’re doing awesome. Just really make sure you don’t lose you, okay? He needs you, but you need you, too.”

A few hours later, I parked in Ryker’s driveway and headed up to his room.

“Knock, knock,” I cheered sweetly when I got to Ryker’s door.

“Yeah?”

I smiled as I entered, closing the door behind me. “Just me.”

Ryker was pacing around his room, moving things from his desk to his dresser and seemingly back again. He glanced at me from the corner of his eye. “Oh, you’re still here?”

“No, just got here,” I whispered as a knot formed in my stomach.

I stood in awkward silence as he finished his task, with the towel wrapped around his waist. He rested his hands on his hips for a moment, staring at his desk, before he turned to his dresser to get his clothes, apparently satisfied with whatever the hell it was he had just been doing. Wordlessly he dressed, pulling on khaki shorts and a black t-shirt before lacing up his sneakers.



“Where’s your dad tonight?” My pulse kicked up a notch as I guiltily realized I felt better with Bill around.

“Out, I guess.” He shrugged and the knot in my stomach tightened.

Something was extra “off” and I had a sinking feeling, but when he turned to face me, I met his eyes and saw a flash of the Ryker I knew. Still, I involuntarily leaned away when he came in to kiss me.

Ryker stood up straight. “What the hell, Nat, what’s the matter? You’re being weird. I’m just getting my stuff together before I reenlist.”

My eyes bulged, with my mouth hanging open. I knew I should have kept a straight face, but serious alarms were sounding through my head, and I knew I needed to get out of there. He’d never mentioned reenlisting before, and he certainly wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon. I forced myself to shake my head and shrug nonchalantly, I just wanted to get him, and me, out of the house.

“Nothing, let’s go to dinner.” I smiled and headed for the stairs.

At the top, Ryker grabbed my wrist and spun me around. Any trace of him had vanished from inside his eyes in a split second. “No, what’s going on?” he yelled like he was at boot camp, or something, and it took my breath away.

“Nothing, Ry, what are you—”

“Who is he? Huh? Who’s the guy you’re f*cking behind my back?” While his eyes bore into mine, I kept stealing glances at the staircase we were perched precariously on top of. Not the best place for an argument.

I assume it was by the grace of God that I kept my shit together on top of those wooden stairs. “Ryker, I’m not seeing anyone else, it’s just you.” I swallowed hard and tried to pull my wrist out of his grip.

“Then why haven’t we been having sex, Natalie? What is it? Am I damaged to you? Is it because I’m going to reenlist that you’re finding someone else to take my spot?”

What?

I really wanted to say that out loud, but knew it would anger him more.

“Ryker, we had sex yesterday . . .” I thought maybe if I kept saying his name, he’d remember who he was—who he really was.

“No, we didn’t, you weren’t even here yesterday. I was . . . I was . . .” Suddenly he dropped my hand and dug the heels of his hands into his eyes, seeming to try to clear his head.

I took that opportunity to haul ass down the stairs. Self-preservation was high on my list that night. When he pulled his hands away, it took a second to register that I was at the bottom of the stairs with my hand on the doorknob. I’d intended on just getting the hell out of there, but he met me at the door.

“Natalie, shit, I’m so sorry.” In a flash, he was back. He was holding my shoulders and kissing my face over and over again before reaching for my wrist. “Did I hurt you? F*ck.”

“No,” I cautiously exhaled, “you didn’t. But, um,” my chin quivered as I was about to lose it in front of him for the first time, “I’m really scared, Ry.” I said no more before burying my face into his chest and releasing heavy sobs onto his shirt.

We sank to the floor with our backs against the front door as he held me.

“Me too,” he whispered. “Me too.”

We never made it to dinner. I think we both knew he was gone that night, but we sat huddled and crying on the floor anyway. If I could go back and change things between us, it would start that night and go every night thereafter until the night I ended up in the hospital.

* * *

I don’t have to wear a short dress to Eric’s graduation.

This is what I’m telling myself as I race into the bathroom after my boys are fast asleep and I’m, obviously, alone in the apartment. Eric is distant one minute, and telling me he loves me the next. There’s something wrong with Oliver, and no matter how big or small, I know I’ll be dealing with it alone. And, for some reason, not only am I unable to shake thoughts of Ryker from my mind, but they seem to be taking over more of my headspace as the days go by.

Finding fresh skin between my hip and thigh, I brace myself for the extra pain that sensitive area brings. Three seconds later I’m reveling in the release, tricking my brain into protecting me from a dangerous situation. I exhale in satisfaction, like someone who’s just taken a sip of one hundred-year-old whiskey for the first time.

In the stillness of the moment, I can hear Ryker’s sweet voice, “Don’t do this, Nat.” Only, he never said that—we didn’t get that far.

“Natalie?” Eric calls as he walks in the apartment.

Shit.

Jumping up, I toss the razor into the trash—having no time to clean it—and turn on the shower. “Just getting in the shower, hon, be out in a few.”

As soon as I close the curtain, the bathroom door opens. “Can I join you?” Eric’s tone is playful, which annoys me. Then I look at the blood trailing down my thigh.

Shit. Shit. Shit. He can’t see this.

“Jesus, Eric, can I have thirty-five seconds without someone in my space?” My tone is a little harsher than I planned but, hey, self-preservation.

“Man,” he scoffs, “sorry.” He slams the door.

I press my forehead into the shower wall, grateful that I just bought myself more time, but feeling slightly bad about snapping at Eric. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour and there’s only one thing that can put the brakes on; but I threw it in the trash a few minutes ago.

When I dry off from the shower and my skin is no longer bleeding, I change into my pajamas and find Eric watching TV in the living room.

I pour myself a glass of water. “Sorry for snapping at you, today was just really stressful with the screening-”

“I get it,” he cuts in, “no need to explain.”

“Wait, are you mad at me for something?”

Eric slams the footrest down on the recliner and walks out of the room. “Just forget it,” he tones out flatly before shutting our bedroom door.