The weight of that knowledge, that someone is here, presses into me. I don’t know much, but I know I don’t want to talk to anyone. Don’t want to explain anything. Don’t want to hear someone cry over me. I want to be left alone.
From his silhouette I can tell it’s Caleb.
That’s something. I’d rather it be Caleb than anyone else.
“Ruth?”
“Yes?”
“You’re awake.” He pauses, as though waiting for me to speak. I don’t. “Your parents are eating dinner in the cafeteria. I’ll go get them.”
“No.” Only I don’t just say no, I try to raise my arm, and the pain hits hard. I gasp and Caleb presses up against the bed and grabs my hand.
He whispers, “I’m so sorry, Ruthie.”
But I don’t want his pity. I turn away from him, as much as I am able.
“Ruth?”
“What?” I don’t want to sound angry, but I know I do.
“Look at me.” He says it with a firm authority that surprises me, so much so that I obey, trying to see his expression in the low light. There’s no pity in him, only a fierce certainty.
“I love you, Ruth. You know that. Because I love you, I’m going to tell you the truth. And you’re going to listen.”
I do. I listen with everything I have.
“You’re the strongest person I know. I’ve no idea what all you’ve gone through, but I bet most people wouldn’t have made it, let alone gotten the one who did it. I heard the cops talking about you, and they couldn’t believe what you did, spotting him in the crowd like that. You’re a hero, Ruth.”
I don’t know what I wanted him to say, but it isn’t this. I won, I got the victory, I should be happy to know I succeeded, that no one else will suffer because of Wolfman, but instead the praise is suffocating.
Caleb’s tone shifts, becoming stern. “Now, I know you won’t want to hear this, but you’ve been too tough for your own good. For a long, long time now.”
My heart skitters forward a few beats, and without thinking, I flip my hand around and grab Caleb. He’s no longer holding on to me, I’m holding on to him.
“Believe me when I tell you—the strongest thing you can do right now is admit you’re not strong enough to do this on your own.”
I squeeze Caleb’s hand. So hard it’s like a death grip. He’s right, I know he’s right, but I have no idea how to do anything but be who I’ve always been. Caleb must think he hasn’t gotten through, because he keeps preaching.
“You were strong enough to hold the farm together, you were strong enough to survive”—he pauses, not sure how to describe it—“everything you’ve survived, but you’re not strong enough to do recovery alone. Nobody is.”
It’s so dark in the room I’m not sure if Caleb can tell I’m nodding. I’m nodding because I know if I speak I’ll cry. I don’t want to cry.
Caleb’s voice is soft now, hushed. “It’s okay to cry, Ruthie.”
I fight it as hard as I can, but it’s winning. My breathing spasms with the sobs I’m holding back.
“You are safe.”
Without thinking, I say, “I don’t think I am.” I sound like an animal, the words mangled by emotion, but they’re my truth. Caleb holds tight to my hand. I can feel his patience, his willingness to be a still center in the middle of my chaos. He is listening with all his might. There’s no editor, no filter when I tell him, “I don’t know how to be.” I say it because I don’t. I don’t know how to be in this world, as this person. I don’t know how to let people help me. I don’t know how to let somebody else be in charge. I don’t know how not to fight. Except, in a way, I do.
The sobs that were threatening to take over disappear. I take a deep breath. Caleb can feel the change, and he leans in, ready to hear what I have to say.
“At the end, he buried me. In the dirt. I couldn’t fight anymore because everything was broken. I knew that to live, I had to play dead.”
“That was smart, Ruthie. Real, real smart.”
To my surprise, a spark of me comes alive, and I feel proud of myself. I say, “I kept my eyes open, even as the dirt hit.”
Caleb doesn’t say anything for a moment and the energy shifts. There’s resistance, hesitancy in him. I can tell it’s painful for him to learn these things, but he knows he has to hear that detail the way I want it to be heard. He has to be strong for me.
“Damn, girl . . . that psychopath picked the wrong target this time, didn’t he?”
I laugh, and it feels like a miracle, because it means I’m still alive. I’m still alive inside this body. Wolfman didn’t kill what makes me me. But he’s also changed me forever. I’m overwhelmed with relief that a part of me lives on, and I’m overwhelmed with sadness that I’m broken, permanently damaged. My laugh melts into sobs. Caleb must think I’ve gone crazy.
He smooths back my hair. I can feel grit against my scalp. The dirt from my grave is still with me. The gentle touch calms me down some.
“Caleb, I want you to know that I know you’re right. I know I’m not strong enough to do this on my own.”
He exhales, tension leaving his body. “I’m so glad to hear you say that.”
“I’m never going to be the same.”