In the Stillness

CHAPTER 41



A few days later, I’ve got the boys set up with our nanny, Caroline. As I’m getting ready to leave for therapy, there’s a knock at the door. Opening it, I find a man standing there, holding three tulips—my favorite flower—and a package with a card taped to it. After setting the flowers by the window, I take the card and package to the car, not wanting to be late for Dr. Greene.

I recognize the writing on the card immediately. Hundreds of letters from Afghanistan made me a Ryker Manning handwriting expert. With shaky fingers, I slide the envelope open.

Natalie,

I remember you told me Max and Oliver’s birthday was coming up, but I don’t think you told me when. The flowers are for you, because you’re a great mother. I hope they’re still your favorite. The book is for them. I guess it’s the best way to try to make sense of it all . . . I hope they have, or had, a good birthday.

~Ry

My car feels too small as I tear open the wrapping and find “The Little Chapel That Stood,” a children’s book about 9/11, and the chapel 100 yards from the Twin Towers that managed to survive the chaos. It became a safe haven for many EMTs, firefighters, and policemen. I flip through the book and can’t get past the fifth page without succumbing to the heavy emotion that brings me back to that day.

The book highlights all the heroes born that day, and illustrates that from evil can come great good. Flipping back to the beginning, I see that Ryker put a note inside the front cover.

Max and Oliver,

Heroes don’t always wear capes, badges, or uniforms. Sometimes, they support those who do.

Setting the book on the passenger seat, I drive to Dr. Greene’s office in a hurry.



“That was quite thoughtful of him,” she says as I show her the card and the book.

“It was. He is.” I’m still wiping tears from under my eyes.

“He called you a hero to your boys but left space for you to explain it to them. How do you feel about that?”

“Overwhelmed. I don’t feel like a hero, at all.”

“What kind of relationship do you want to have with Ryker, Natalie? You’ve spent a fair bit of time with him, and he sent you flowers and your boys a present . . .”

“I actually haven’t thought much about it. It was just such a shock to have him in my life again. I was taking it one day at a time. I tried to prepare myself for the fact that one or both of us would find it too intense to be around each other.”

She crosses her legs. “And, have you found it too intense?”

I shake my head. “It’s been intense, for sure. But . . . not too intense . . .” I look to the ground.

“What is it, Natalie?”

“I really do still love him, Dr. Greene. For the longest time I’ve tried to tell myself that our crazy, mad love story was a product of the drama of war and being in college, but—”

“But what?”

“It was real. True.” I grab a fresh tissue. “Either way, I don’t want him to disappear again. I’m not saying I want to be with him, or anything . . . I just don’t want to say goodbye again.” Even saying “goodbye” in a sentence involving Ryker tugs at my insides.

Dr. Greene nods, licking her lips. “I think your honesty about your feelings is an excellent step, Natalie. I’d say how you’re handling it so far is working, wouldn’t you?”

I nod.

“How was the boys’ birthday?” She changes course, and I’m thankful for the relative break.

I quickly recount the events of the day to Dr. Greene, who nods along like she belongs on a car dashboard.

“Do you think your mother’s apology was sincere?”

I shrug. “I don’t know. She’s never apologized for anything before. I guess it doesn’t really matter if she’s actually sorry, though, does it? That’s kind of on her at this point.”

Dr. Greene smiles. “That’s very good, Natalie, and you’re right. But you know she might want to revisit the conversation, especially if your father tells her about Ryker?”

I tell Dr. Greene there’s no way on God’s green earth that my dad will tell my mom about Ryker. He knows I’ll tell her if and when I’m ready. We discuss some conversational techniques I can use if my mom should want to bring up our conversation again.

“What coping strategies have you been developing to stand in for the cutting?”

“I’ve been really busy, actually, which has been great. Classes at Mount Holyoke start again in a few weeks, so I’ve been gathering materials and preparing lectures. Also, the boys are starting school around then, too, and we’ve been preparing them for that.”

Dr. Greene raises her perfectly manicured eyebrow. “Busy isn’t a coping strategy, Natalie.”

Is so.

“Well, before I was married and had kids, I was a student. That’s what I did, that’s who I was. I read, wrote, and read some more. I loved to study and learn. I never really did anything else.”

“So, have you thought about some things you might want to do with your time, especially on the weeks you don’t have the boys? You’ll be very busy on the “on” weeks that I’m concerned for the “off” weeks. You, yourself, have said that the downtime is a trigger for you.”

“There’s one thing I’ve been tossing around . . .” I shift a little, and have to remind myself that my mother’s not sitting next to me. “When I first saw you, back when I came back to school after taking the semester off, I saw a flyer in my dorm for volunteering at the Holyoke Soldiers’ Home. It probably would have been too soon for me to do something like that, but I wanted to. I know my mom would have had a complete meltdowns, though, so I never did.”

She nods. “Why do you want to do that now?”

Oh, Dr. Greene, you and your loaded questions ...

“I know a little bit about what it’s like, I guess. Most of the men in there are very elderly, with little—if any—family left. I guess . . . I guess I picture Ryker in there someday, and it breaks my heart to think of him sitting alone.”

Dr. Greene and I agree that it’s worth me checking into the volunteer opportunities at the Soldiers’ Home, and soon I’m on my way back home. Pulling out of the parking lot, I scroll to Ryker’s number in my cell phone.

“Hello?”

I love that people still say “hello” with a question, as if they don’t have caller ID.

“Hey, Ry,” my voice starts to shake so I speak as quickly as possible, “I got the flowers, and the card . . . and the book.”

“Are you crying?”

I nod, like he can see me. “Yeah, uh, um . . . it was really sweet of you to . . . and the inscription . . .” I’ve pulled over on the side of the road, since crying and talking while driving is probably not a great idea.

“I didn’t mean to make you cry, Natalie . . . shit, I’m sorry.” His voice is melodic, like a lullaby. “I just want your boys to know, someday, how awesome you are. I mean, they’ll know, obviously, but about that . . . ah, I don’t know what I’m trying to say.”

“I do,” I chuckle through the emotion, “and it was sweet. And completely unnecessary. You’re the hero, you know. You always have been.”

“I don’t know about that.”

“You didn’t sign your name . . . after your note.”

There’s a short pause before Ryker speaks. “I just wasn’t sure . . . I didn’t know what you’d want them to know about me, if anything. I wanted them to have the book, either way.”

“I appreciate your concern, but . . . I want you to sign it. When you’re ready.”

“Where are you now?” he asks, seeming to hold my statement somewhere in the air.

“Driving home from therapy,” I laugh again. This time, he does too.

“All right, well I’ll let you go so you don’t drive off the road. I’d still like to have the boys out to the farm sometime. I think they’d have fun.” His voice is full of nerves.

Suddenly, I’ve fallen through the rabbit hole and I’m panicking. I know he’s trying to be nice, and the boys really would love to go to the farm, but I don’t know if I’m ready for all of that. As innocent as it might be, having my boys and Ryker in the same frame feels like too much right now.

“That’d be great. Can we give it a few weeks? I want to get the boys started in school, and the classes I’m teaching are starting soon . . . there’s just a lot coming up.” I hate the feeling that I’m turning him down, but I have to take myself seriously.

“Sure,” he sounds a little deflated, “absolutely. Just, uh, call me when you’re settled in the routine, okay?”

“I will. Ryker?”

“Yeah?”

No, not yet . . .

“Thanks again for the gift, and the flowers. They’re beautiful.”

“You’re welcome, Nat. Bye.”

“Bye.”