In the Stillness

CHAPTER 20



I wake early the next morning, surprised that I’m up before the boys. I’m even more surprised to see Eric sleeping next to me. I assumed he would have slept on the couch or not come home at all—though he’s never not come home. More surprisingly, he’s not at the lab. I’m actually a little annoyed. I’m not looking forward to round two so early in the day.

Sliding slowly out of bed so as not to wake him, I tiptoe to the kitchen and start the coffee. Hazelnut. Eric hates flavored coffee, and I hate that I constantly drink flavorless shit just to avoid hearing him talk about it every morning. I barely have time to finish inhaling the fresh steam swirling from my cup before Eric plods into the kitchen. Turning for the table, I audibly slurp my first sip as I sit, facing the deck door and trying to enjoy the sunrise before I hear his voice.

“Is this regular coffee?” He stands with the pot in his hand, spout suspended above his cup.

I shrug. “It’s not decaf, if that’s what you’re asking.”

His sigh is response enough. He pours a cup anyway, filling it only halfway, and the rest of the way with milk.

“Where’d you go last night?” I ask without removing my eyes from the view.

“Out.”

Shifting in my seat to face him, I find his back against the counter as he faces the far kitchen wall. His petulance is evident in his hunched shoulders as he tastes the coffee with a grimace.

I clear my throat, ignoring his brewing tantrum. “Are you working today?”

Eric shakes his head.

“Okay,” I draw out, “in that case, I’ve got a lot to do this morning so you’re on kid duty.”

He huffs into his coffee.

“What’s that?” I ask as I walk to pour my second cup.

Eric blindly sets his mug on the counter behind him and crosses his arms in front of his bare torso. “You’re going to run out as soon as we have a free day to spend together as a family.”

I don’t even try to stop the laugh that flees my throat. “You’re kidding, right? Actually I’d rather not drag the boys around with me as I meet with Oliver’s new school and figure out how to get us enrolled in learning sign language as soon as possible. But if you’d rather have the day to yourself, I can bring them along.” I look at him in time to see his eyebrows twitch. “And as far as your assertion that we’re a family? Come on, Eric, even you’re not delusional enough to believe that.”

Eric pushes off the counter and blocks my exit to the bedroom. “What is that supposed to mean?” His tone is saturated with a bitterness that I’m sure only I bring out in him.

“I mean, I was scared, Eric. I was barely finished with my master’s degree and I got f*cking pregnant! Of course my first thought was to not have a baby, I wasn’t ready and neither were you.”

My eyes water as I think of the fear that ripped through me when I’d missed my period over five years ago. Every twenty-eight days since I was twelve—every twenty-eight—I’d gotten my period. I didn’t need a pregnancy test to tell me what I already knew, but proceeded with the formality anyway.

“Don’t you think I was scared?” Eric runs his hand over his hair and rests it on the back of his neck. “Jesus, I was already started in my doctoral program. But, I loved you, Natalie. I’d never felt that way about anyone else and I knew that . . .” He trails off and looks somewhere past my shoulder.

I clear my throat and whisper, “You knew that what?”

“I knew I wanted to be with you for the long-haul, and even if they weren’t planned, I was going to love them as much as I loved you.”

My chin quivers as I start to cry. “I love them, Eric. More than absolutely anything in my life. You don’t ever need to remind me that I wanted an abortion. Ever. I feel enough guilt about that as it is.”

He grabs my shoulders and pours his brown eyes into mine. “Then why are you fighting us so hard, Nat?”

I squeeze my eyes tightly and with a shaky voice I tell him. “Because I don’t love you.”

* * *

For the first few days after I broke up with Ryker, things were quiet. I was able to push through schoolwork, but often found myself exhausted and going to bed by dinner time.

“I think you’re depressed,” Tosha toned out blatantly, one night that I’d managed to stay awake past six-thirty.

“Oh yeah? How’d you figure that one out,” I spat back.

“Are you still cutting?”

I’d gotten really good at hiding it and tried to only do it when I was in the shower anyway— to avoid unnecessary time in the bathroom—which would set off warning bells for her.

“Not really. Are you still smoking?”

She just rolled her eyes. “Oh, because that’s the same.” Sarcasm was the tone du jour.

“Whatever. Dump your PTSD-riddled soldier boyfriend and tell me how you feel.” I’d been crying a lot, and that night was no different. I started wiping tears away from my cheeks when Tosha joined me on the bed.

“Natalie . . .” She sighed and brushed my hair aside so she could rest her chin on my shoulder.

“What?” I sniffed.

“You can’t walk around feeling guilty all the time. It will eat you.”

It had already started. Slowly, using my heart as an appetizer before it devoured my soul.

“I love him, Tosh. I’m so in love with him it hurts.”

“I know” she sighed, “and you love him enough not to watch him make a horrible mistake. More importantly, you love yourself more. You have to take care of you first. You know that.”

My phone rang after a few minutes of sniffling silence. I studied the number.

“Who is it?” Tosha asked.

“Bill . . . Ryker’s dad.” I answered with a racing heart. “Hello?”

“Natalie?” He sounded distressed.

“Bill, what’s going on?”

“Is Ryker with you, by any chance?”

I jumped to my feet. “No, why?”

Bill was silent for a few seconds too long.

“Bill?”

“He took off with my car and I haven’t seen or heard from him since last night—”

“What? I’m on my way.”

“No, it’s—”

I hung up before he finished. Tosha stared at me bug-eyed.

“What happened?”

“Bill hasn’t seen Ryker since last night. That’s not like him.” I threw clothes out of my closet in order to find something other than what I’d been wearing for two days.

“And what is it you think you can do?” Tosha’s words stopped me in my tracks.

“Bill sounded really freaked out, Tosh. I have to help him find Ryker. I know all the spots he goes…”

Tosha met me at our door. “So tell Bill. Natalie, you don’t need to get involved.”

I bit the inside of my cheek. “I already am, Tosh. The second I fell in love with him I became involved. Just because I’m not with him doesn’t mean I stopped caring. I don’t want him to get hurt.”

“Or hurt himself.” She cocked her eyebrow.

Bile creeped up my throat. “What are you saying?”

Tosha stared at me for a while; I watched her eyes dart across my face. “PTSD isn’t something you should f*ck with, Nat. It’s not even something Bill should—look, just promise me you’ll call the police if things get dicey. Promise me.”

She was right. I wasn’t emotionally or otherwise qualified to deal with PTSD. But, I loved Ryker, and I knew that had to mean something to him still.

As I drove down 116, I figured I should drive by Bill’s house first to see if he was there or had gone out looking for Ryker. A mixture of relief and tension seared through me when I saw Bill’s car in the driveway, meaning Ryker was home. I took it he’d just gotten there since Bill hadn’t called to tell me he’d come home.

I was right. Ryker got out of the car as I pulled in. I watched him stagger for a second before he turned and registered that my car was right behind him.

Great. He’s drunk.

Bill came to the door just as I got out of my car. Ryker leaned against his father’s car and addressed me as I nervously approached him.

“What the hell are you doing here?” he asked as he jammed his hands into his pockets, looking at his feet.

“Your dad said you didn’t come home last night. I was worried—”

“Worried?” he snorted. “You were worried? You didn’t seem that worried when you took off the other day.”

“You told me to leave, Ryker.” Even though I was leaving anyway, I felt that I should remind him that he slammed the door behind me.

“Because you don’t support me!”

My depression turned to rage as I stood toe-to-toe with him. Tequila oozed through his breath. “I don’t support you? How dare you say that. I love you, and it kills me that you’re choosing reenlisting over me, Ryker. It kills me. I’ll stand by you and support any healthy decision you make, but this isn’t one of them.”

Ryker’s tone turned soft and cold. “Get out of my face, Natalie.”

I should have listened.

“No, Ryker, I won’t. I want you to wake up and see what you’re doing. You can’t reenlist. You can’t. You’re driving drunk around town, telling me you’re getting help when your dad says you’re not.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Ryker, look at me, please. I’m scared that if you go back over there, you won’t come home this time.”

His voice remained unchanged, but his eyes stayed latched onto mine. “I didn’t come home last time, Natalie. Or, were you too wrapped up in your own life to notice that? Now, please, get out of my face.” He started to pull back from me, but couldn’t get very far since he was leaning against the car.

I shook my head. “You’re still you, Ryker.” I tightened my grip on his hard shoulders. “You just need to get help to—”

In a flash I was flying backward across the driveway as Ryker’s palms connected with my chest. Before his hands left my body, I saw Bill race down the stairs toward his son, who was following me. I hit the ground hard and started scrambling backward to try to get to my feet.

“I said get out of my face!” Ryker’s face was barely an inch from mine, his alcoholic spit spraying across my face as he yelled.

“Ryker!” Bill caught up to him and pulled him back far enough to allow me the space to stand. “Ryker, if you don’t stop screaming, someone is going to call the police. Calm down and come inside.” Bill turned toward me with pleading eyes. “Natalie, go.”

It wasn’t the time to argue. It was the time to run. As I got in and started my car, Ryker’s face changed and he broke free from his dad’s grip and banged on my window.

“Natalie! Natalie, I’m so sorry. Shit. Natalie! I love you, I’m sorry!” He left his fists against the window as I put the car in reverse.

I shook my head, tears from pain of all kinds spilled down my cheeks, and sped backward onto the road. As I drove away, I watched Ryker punch the tree next to the car and storm inside his house.

Without much thought behind my heavy breathing, I drove straight to the cemetery that held Lucas Fisher. Dusk was closing in, and I wanted to confront him before being asked to leave by the police, or whoever it was that guarded the bones at night.

“You,” I sneered as I found his grave through a maze of marble. “You promised you’d take care of him!”

My tailbone started throbbing from my landing in the driveway. Sinking to my knees, I rested my forehead on his stone and continued my verbal assault.

“Why? He’s f*cking gone, Lucas, gone! You took him over there with you and sent this home?” The stone was impervious to the salt water I thrust upon it.

I thumped my fists on top of the stone. “Fix it. Please. Somehow, fix this. It’s killing me.” I sat back on my heels and stared at his name. “And, it’s killing him, Lucas.”

A weak mew silenced my yell, turning it to a whisper. “I’m losing him.”

* * *

“You don’t love me.” Eric forms this as a statement rather than a question.

I stare at him, unable to construct an answer that doesn’t sound awful. I’ve already said the worst, though.

He drops his hands and takes a step back. “And, when, exactly, did you arrive at this conclusion?”

Good question. He wants a date, a scientific pinpoint for the moment he lost my heart. The problem is, I don’t think he ever had it.

I’m temporarily saved from having to fumble through an answer I know won’t suffice as Max and Ollie race into the kitchen. Eric and I each pick up and hug an exuberant boy as our eyes remain locked on each other; mine watering, his—empty.