In the Stillness

CHAPTER 4



“Morning,” Eric whispers as he kisses my forehead. He places coffee on the table next to my bed.

“Hey.” I sit up and immediately panic at the brightness outside my window. “Shit! I overslept! I’m sorry. Where are the boys?”

Eric laughs and sits at the foot of the bed. “I took them to school. My mom’s going to pick them up and they’re going to stay over at her house tonight.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what? She’s had them overnight, like, two times, Eric, why now?”

What did you tell her?

“I told her we needed a night out to celebrate my almost finishing up my Ph.D. and she happily agreed.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” I roll my eyes and sit up.

“Jesus, Natalie, don’t be happy that I planned for you to have another day—” he stops and winces a little as my jaw drops, “God, this is frustrating!” He stands and runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears when he’s done. “What is it, Natalie, huh? What is it? We haven’t had sex in three weeks, you’re moody as hell, and yesterday you go to the grave of someone you barely knew who died ten years ago? What’s going on?” He closes his eyes and takes a careful breath. That’s Eric, always trying to regain control.

“Barely knew? Just leave me the f*ck alone, Eric! Goddammit! You’re in the lab twenty-four-seven and I’m with them twenty-four-seven. I love the boys, Eric, you know I do, but sometimes . . . F*ck!” I jump out of bed and head for the shower, locking the door behind me.

As the steam takes over my tiny retreat, I stare at the last razor left in my bathroom—the one I use to shave my legs. Before I know it, I’m breaking it apart and dragging it slowly across my hip bone. I wince a little at first, until the adrenaline kicks in and gives me its promised high. I have a whole day and night alone with Eric—something I regularly complain we don’t get enough of—and I find myself clamoring for an escape.

I should call Dr. Greene, is what I should do—if she even still has a practice in the area. That’s who my parents set me up with when they allowed me to return for my junior/senior year at Mount Holyoke. It should have been my senior year, but that semester spent in intensive therapy in Pennsylvania was necessary by their standards.

When Eric came along, my parents were more than supportive. He was the first boyfriend I had since Ryker, and it was long enough after “the incident” that they felt the timing was appropriate. Given that Eric was on the road to his Ph.D. and was not in the military, I’m surprised my mother didn’t plan a wedding the first time she met him. It wouldn’t be long after that, however, that two pink lines would walk me down the aisle.

My mind creeps back to yesterday’s visit to the cemetery, and I slide down the shower wall, huddling into myself on the floor.

* * *

“We have to report for duty.” Just a month after terrorists screwed with the safety I took for granted, Ryker was telling me he had to go.

The previous three weeks had been tense; his jaw was clenched a lot and he always seemed on alert. We’d only had sex a couple of times. Although we were in my dorm room, Lucas was with him—arms crossed, standing in my doorway looking like he’d rather crawl out of his skin than watch our exchange. Lucas didn’t have a girlfriend then, and the three of us had spent a lot of time together. He and I had formed a sibling-like relationship that served us both well; my little brother was eight years younger, and Lucas was an only child.

“Both of you?” My pulse quickened as my eyes darted back and forth.

Lucas shifted uncomfortably before swallowing. “We’re in the same unit, Nat.” He shrugged and ran his hand over his bronze buzz-cut.

I stood and positioned myself between them, but Ryker kept his hand on my arm.

“But you guys won’t have to go overseas, right? You’re in the National Guard. Aren’t you supposed to stay here and, like, protect our borders or something?” I was silently cursing myself for not paying more attention to the branches of military and their duties.

Ryker stood and took my shoulders. He looked over at Lucas for a second before taking a deep breath and looking back at me. “This is different, Natalie.” Shit, he used my full name. “We won’t really know where we’ll be going for a couple of weeks, but . . .”

“But what, Ry?” My shaky voice betrayed the strength I was trying to portray.

Bush is going to send them to Afghanistan.

His jaw beat against his skin like a bass drum. “We’ll be fine, we’re trained,” he smiled and gave a little laugh, “it’s our job.”

I believed him. He was unwavering, confident, sure. In fact, when I looked over my shoulder, Lucas suddenly seemed bored with the whole conversation. That boy was a soldier, through and through. It was like he’d always prepared for this moment while the rest of us plodded happily along in our lives, and he was just now feeling alive. It’s not that Ryker didn’t look like a soldier the way Lucas did; it’s that I didn’t want him to.

“So you’ll . . . what,” I swallowed back my tears, “leave next week and . . . that’s it? I won’t see you till you come home from wherever they send you?”

Ryker wiped my cheek with his thumb and just nodded.

“But for the next week?” I leaned into his hand.

He kissed my forehead. “Every day and night for the next week.”

* * *

Eric knocks on the bathroom door.

“Yeah?” I stand with a shiver, realizing the water has turned cold.

“Just checking. You’ve been in there a while.” I can tell he’s resting his forehead on the bathroom door; it’s what he does when he’s emotionally exhausted—rests his head.

I need to get my shit together or Eric will call my parents. Today I’ll play nice and give him some attention so he’ll leave me alone for a few days.

“I’m fine, Babe, be out in a minute.”

I turn off the water, pour peroxide down my hip and over the razor, and mentally prepare for twenty-four hours alone with my husband.

“Tosha called your cell. I picked up and she said she’s home from her trip—wants you to call her about getting together for lunch.”

Thank God for Tosha.

I open the bathroom door and smile up at Eric. “Do you mind if I grab lunch with her, then you and I can spend the afternoon and evening together?”

He buys my smile and returns one of his own. “Of course. I’ll clean up around here and when you get home we’ll find something to do.” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows and I know what he means. Too bad we can’t have sex till tonight, with the lights off, so he can’t see what I just did to my hip.

Shit.

I rise on my toes and kiss his scruffy chin. “You need to shave.” I force a giggle before turning to the bedroom to dress.

“Have fun with Tosha, I’m gonna go grab some coffee.”

I throw on a thin long-sleeved shirt, despite the seventy-degree heatwave, and prepare for lunch with my best friend— the only person who knows me better than my husband thinks he does.

An hour later I’m sitting on the patio of The Pub, while Tosha illegally smokes a cigarette over our margaritas.

“Tosh, put that shit out, you’re going to get us kicked out!” I laugh and sip my lunchtime alcohol. Tosha and I always order liquor with lunch; it’s been our small act of rebellion since we turned twenty-one.

“Oh screw them.” She rolls her eyes and puts her cigarette out on the table. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? You look all . . . emo.” Despite being a professor, she often finds herself at a loss for an appropriate word.

You have to tell her. Just do it now and get it all over with.

I take a deep breath. “I went to Lucas’s grave yesterday.”

Tosha chokes on her margarita. “What the fu- what? What the hell possessed you to do that?” She unabashedly reaches for a second cigarette.

I see you. Stop staring at my left arm.

“I don’t know,” I’m honest, “I had some free time yesterday and just drove around. Before I knew it, I was yelling at him for dying. It was ten years ago, Tosh, ten f*cking years ago.”

She hasn’t taken a drag since she lit her cigarette; she’s staring at me slack-jawed.

“You yelled at his grave? Does Eric know you went there?” She finally pulls on the cigarette. A good long drag.

“Yeah. He doesn’t get it, though. I lost my shit on him this morning.”

“I don’t really get it, either, Nat.” Her eyes bleed concern.

“I’ve just been stressed lately, I guess—”

“It’s not Lucas’s fault. Or Ryker’s. And, not even really yours, you know.” She plays with her hair with one hand and holds her Marlboro and margarita in the other. “You got sick . . .”

“Yeah.” I snort sarcastically.

“Then . . . you got better. And met Eric.” Bless her heart—she’s trying to believe her own words.

The truth is, I got through it. Then met Eric.

“It felt good, though. To cry a little at his grave.” I shrug and swallow some salted tequila.

“You haven’t seen—”

I shake my head and cut her off. “No, I haven’t seen Ryker.”

“Wow, his name rolled off your tongue easy enough.” Tosh was present for the period when I couldn’t even hear his name without a meltdown. “Maybe your brain, like, knew it’d been ten years or something.”

“Maybe.” I sigh.

“Are you going to go to the cemetery again? I’ll come with you if you do.”

“I doubt it,” I lie.

She nods. “Okay. Well, if you do—”

“I won’t. Trust me. Yesterday was more than enough.”

We sit in silence until our food comes. Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite, but I pick at my salad anyway.

“Are you so ready to have the school year end?” I ask Tosha, breaking our silence.

“Ugh, you have no idea. I can’t wait to teach some higher level classes—the freshmen are such self-righteous twits.”

“I’m sure we were nothing like that.” I wink, she laughs. We’re back.

Tosha teaches biology at Mount Holyoke. She loves to hate it; that’s why I love her. She smokes to be difficult.

“Certainly not,” she mocks in a faux-snooty tone.

For a fleeting passage of time, we’re two seniors, giggling about when I’d met Eric—a hot guy I met randomly on the sidewalk, and subsequently spent a week stalking on Myspace. I finally gathered the nerve to call him.

Now, here I sit, at the extended end of that phone call.