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.”
Chapter 42
I remember the day I knew Ollie’s hearing was gone for good. As the summer progressed, he had fewer days, fewer moments, when he could hear us. Fewer times when his name came from my mouth and mattered, fewer times “Return to Pooh Corner” helped him fall asleep. I still sing it, even if Max is already asleep. But, two weeks after school started, and Eric dropped the boys off at my house one Sunday night, he told me Ollie hadn’t responded to any vocal communication that week. I frowned as I told him that he hadn’t the week before, either.
We stood in broken silence—irony at its finest. The day had finally come. After tucking them into bed, I locked myself in the bathroom and slid down the door until I met the ground in tears. It took every ounce of any strength I ever thought I possessed not to reach for the razors that night. But, I stayed in the bathroom until I’d fully thought the cut through, realizing it wasn’t worth it—then more than ever.
“How are the little guys doing in school?” Tosha asks over lunch on campus.
It’s been incredible getting back to work. The material never left my blood, so getting in the groove didn’t take long. I teach two classes, three days a week, in the morning. It leaves me time to grade and prepare on my days off, and spend time with the boys in the afternoons on my weeks.
“They’re good. I had reservations at first about them going to different schools, but, our options were kind of limited on that front.”
The boys are each in full-day kindergarten. Max works with a therapist for a half hour a day to maintain his sign language. On my weeks, I pick up Ollie first. When we get Max, their hands are moving so fast, signing about their days—it’s hilarious. Ollie can talk to Max just fine and can read lips really well, but they think it’s fun to use sign language, and Ollie has to use it at school for his classmates, anyway.