In the Stillness (28 page)

“I honestly could probably move on from the affair, if that was all it was. That’s a lie,” I admit in the next breath. “Anyway, my resentment and pure contempt for him and everything he represents runs so deep, there’s just no recovering. The affair just . . .”

“Compounds it,” Ryker finishes, looking down at the table.

“Yeah. And with Ollie going deaf, I—”

“What?”

“Oh,” I sigh, “I didn’t get there yet, I guess. He has a degenerative nerve thing that’s going to make him deaf, slowly. We found out about that like two weeks ago.”

“Shit, Nat . . . I’m so sorry.” Ryker holds out his hand and I tuck mine into his. After a quick squeeze, we separate them.

I explain to Ryker all I know about Oliver’s condition and our plans for him to go to the Clarke School.
 

“Anyway, to actually answer your question from a few hours ago, I started cutting again a few weeks ago. I was just in this pressure cooker. I thought about the first time I’d cut, then started thinking about you for the first time in a long time . . . and everything with Eric . . .” Needing to change the subject, I shift and look at him in the eyes. “So, why’d you stay in Wyoming for so long?”

Ryker lets out a huge breath, puffing out both his cheeks. “Well, I did well for a while. I made it through probation and through seeing you at your graduation without any major fuck-ups.” He squirms a little and moves to put his elbows on his thighs. “Then, I slipped back into painkillers.” My heart hurts as I watch his face pinch at the memory. “The alcohol hadn’t really ever stopped, I just got good at controlling it when I needed to. I’d been working at an adventure camp that my sister started when she got back from Africa, and couldn’t drink while the kids were there. But I made sure to make up for it during the down times.”

“Did you get arrested again?” I ask, praying for a “no.”

“No, luckily. It got really bad, though, Nat. I lost a shitload of weight, slept or drank whenever I wasn’t working. I’m fuckin’ lucky I didn’t kill myself or someone else.” He picks at his thumbnail as he talks.

“Wait, back up a minute. Did you ever even try to reenlist after your drunk driving arrest?”

He laughs sarcastically. “I was fucked up, Nat, not stupid. Somehow I pulled it together to leave well enough alone. My discharge status was fine, I don’t know if I could have screwed it up by causing a scene, but that’s all I would have accomplished—a scene. I struggled with that the most, after the arrest. I felt like I’d let Luke down.”

Here it is, the first time we’re talking about Lucas.

“You know that’s not true.” I rub my hand on his knee for a second before pulling it away.

“I know that
now
.” His gorgeous blue eyes travel somewhere else, somewhere I’m not sure I’m ready to go. “Anyway,” he continues, “my mom found out about the pills and gave me an ultimatum. She said she’d kick me out if I didn’t go to rehab. And, Wyoming’s not really a place you want to wander around alone. Outside of the Park, it’s an incredibly depressing place with
nothing
going on.”

“So you went to rehab?”

“Yep. Outpatient. I got to deal with all kinds of fun things, like guilt, anger, my PTSD . . .”

“Ah, yes,” sighing, I kick my heels up and rest them on the coffee table, “good ‘ole PTSD.” It’s incredibly absurd that we’re talking about PTSD like it’s a great-uncle we haven’t seen in a while, but . . . whatever.

“I’m sorry, Natalie—”

Putting my hand up, I stop him. “Don’t, it’s fine. It wasn’t your fault—”

“I have to tell you, let me finish,” he cuts in. “I’ve waited a long time to tell you how sorry I am. I know most of it was the PTSD screwing up my brain, but, you deserved better, Nat.” I reach for his hand as he continues. “You deserved to have me telling you the truth when I told you I was getting help. You deserved someone who was willing to get better for you, someone who wasn’t going to push you around . . .” He hangs his head in apparent defeat. From the inside.

“Ryker,” I breathe, rubbing his back softly. It’s the first time I’ve seen what long-time guilt looks like from the outside, while it tears up someone’s insides.

“Thank you for staying with me as long as you did.” He reaches for my hand, interlacing his fingers with mine, still looking down.
 

Something like a chirp escapes my throat as I nod, tears pouring down my face.

Seriously, how much can one person cry in their lifetime?

“Also, thank you for pulling the fire alarm that night. It saved us both.” When his blue eyes, ones I once called my own, reach mine, I can’t take it anymore.
 

Instantly I release his hand and stand, pacing behind the couch with my hands knotted through my hair, trying to fight off a panic attack. Ryker’s brow furrows for a second before he heads to the kitchen and fills a glass with water, handing it to me calmly.
 

“Thanks.”

“It’s okay, Natalie. We’re not back there . . .” His eyes scroll across my face.

“I am. I have been. I never fucking left.” Pressing my palm into my forehead, I continue, “I need to get help, I can’t do this anymore. My boys need someone stronger than whatever
this
is . . .”

Ryker’s eyes close as relief seems to calm his face. Without hesitation, he reaches his hands up and touches my face. “You
are
strong, Natalie. After everything I already knew, and what you’ve told me tonight, you’re fucking amazing. But, you’re right, you do need help. We all do sometimes.”

It feels so good to have said it out loud—that I need help. I run my thumb over Ryker’s hand as he drops them from my face. “Thank you. Shit,” I say, looking at the clock, “it’s nearly midnight. I’m sorry I’ve kept you here for so long.”

“Are you going to be okay if I go?” He runs his hands down my shoulders on purpose. He wants to make sure I’m not going to cut myself all night.

“I am.” I believe my own words for the first time in years.
 

Ryker walks over to the counter, where my cell phone and our cold pizza sit. “Here’s my number,” he says as he taps it into my phone, “please, any time . . .”

I nod as I hear his phone ring.

“I have yours, now, too,” he smiles playfully.

“Great. Thanks for the last two nights, Ryker. I’ve got a busy week ahead of me, what with settling help for my son and, now, me.” When I laugh this time, I catch his eyes, and he smiles back.

“You’ll be good. I know you.” With a shoulder squeeze, he’s heading to the door.

“Thanks again, Ry.” I follow him, opening the door.

“Thank
you
, Nat.” A suspended moment of uncertainty vanishes as he presses his soft lips to my forehead. My scalp tingles when he pulls away. “Goodnight.”
 

“Night,” I whisper as he heads down the stairs, hands in his pockets.

I don’t know if we’ll ever scroll to each other’s names to call each other, but I know one thing. I don’t want to cut right now. That has to be a good start.

Chapter 33

“So, Natalie, it’s been three weeks since you officially moved out of yours and Eric’s apartment. How are things going for you?” Dr. Greene crosses her legs and waits with a gentle smile.

I called her first thing in the morning after the night Ryker visited me at Tosha’s. She was able to fit me in by the end of the week, which was great because I was at my wit’s end by then. I’d gone back to what’s now Eric’s apartment and retrieved the rest of my things. Sure, he tried to blame his performance in front of Ryker on his alcohol consumption. But, he wasn’t
that
drunk. And, by the end of what turned out to be a fairly mature discussion, we realized that there are some broken things that can’t be put back together.

“Listen, Eric,” I said, “It’s going to be hard enough to explain to our parents and the boys about what’s going on. Let’s leave your affair and my cutting out of it, okay? It’ll just make things worse for both of us.”

After a long pause, he said, “Fine. You’re right.”
 

He has an image to protect, after all. I’m not sure what would be worse for him, admitting an affair, or having a wife with issues.
 

“Also,” I took a deep breath, “please don’t mention anything about Ryker. I don’t know if he and I will ever see each other again, but you know . . . my mom.” I stared at the floor until Eric grabbed my shoulders.

“I know, Natalie. It’s fine. I’m sorry, again —”

“Don’t. It’s okay. It’s over.”

It’s all over.

Taking a deep gulp of air, I smile back at Dr. Greene. “It’s going okay. I was able to use some of my grandmother’s trust fund to rent an apartment in Northampton for a while, and my old department at Mount Holyoke was thrilled to employ me for adjunct courses. Smith wants me to teach some, too.”

“Have you cut in the last three weeks?”

Man, she gets right to it, doesn’t she?

Knotting my hands, I briefly look to the floor before facing the music. “I have. Once.”

She nods, clearly expecting the answer. “Do you want to talk about it?”

That’s not really a question.

“It was last week. When the boys came home from my parents’ the week before, we had them stay at my place, because Eric had a project to work on and they’re with me most of the time anyway.”
 

I pause and recall their excitement of staying somewhere new, mixed with the dread I felt about having to explain it to them. I’d called my parents before, and Eric called his, and we gave the most political explanation for our separation we could. Both of our mothers cried.
 

“Anyway,” I continue, “the first night that they stayed back with Eric . . .” My eyes fill with tears and I reach for a tissue. “I just . . . I’ve fantasized about peace and quiet for so long, dreamt about being left alone . . . but when the TV was off, and the sun was down . . .” I’m in a full sob right now. “I’ve just never felt so
alone
, and I couldn’t take it.”

“How did it feel when you cut that night, Natalie?” Dr. Greene’s tone remains spa-like smooth.

“Awful,” I admit. “It felt so foreign for some reason. It was the first time it’s ever felt that way. I felt worse when it was over than when I’d started.”

“Have you done it since?”

“No.”

“Have you thought about it?”

“A lot.” I nod, rolling the tissue between my fingers.

“Now,” she shifts a little in her seat, which isn’t like her, “have you spoken with Ryker at all?”

Ah.
 

Dr. Greene knows more about Ryker than any other single person on the planet, apart from Tosha and me. She was the doctor my parents set me up with when they allowed me to return to Mount Holyoke. I had to see her regularly for my entire repeat junior year. When I told her last week, at our first session, that we’d run into each other after almost ten years, I saw a look on her face that I’m fairly certain wouldn’t pass as professional, but it made me laugh anyway. She seemed as relieved as I am that he seems to be doing well.

“I haven’t. He hasn’t called me, either,” I add for an unknown reason.

“Does that bother you?”

Yes.

I stare at her a while before I answer. I thought about calling him the next day, to thank him again for the night before. But, we said everything that needed to be said. Sort of. Then, I just had to deal with my life. Moving, coordinating therapies for Oliver, and contacting divorce attorneys has really taken up a lot of time. Admittedly, I’ve avoided the Saturday Farmer’s Market on the common because I just know he’ll be there, and apparently, I’m not ready.
 

“To be honest, it does. Maybe he’s just letting me figure things out. I told him I was going to get help.”

“Do you plan to call him?”
 

I shrug. “Probably.” I have no idea when, but, I miss him. I really miss him.”

A faint smile sprints across her face before she checks her watch. “Okay, Natalie, our time’s up for today. See you next week?”

“You got it. Thanks again, Dr. Greene.”

Stepping outside onto the busy Northampton street, I make the short walk back to my apartment. I was thrilled to clean out my storage unit, filling my apartment with everything that represents who I was and who I am. Tosha calls.

“Hello?”
 

“Hey lady. Do you have the boys this weekend?”

“No, I dropped them off with Eric this morning before my shrink appointment. Hey,” I pause, a second before deciding to go forward with my plan, “do you want to go to the Amherst Farmer’s Market with me tomorrow?”

I can just picture the look on Tosha’s face as she considers. After a short pause she finally responds. “Yep. I’ll pick you up at 8.”

“You better stop for coffee if we’re going that early,” I laugh.

“I think we’ll need more than coffee,” she grumbles before hanging up.

Tosha knows everything about the night Ryker was there, and Eric showed up. It certainly didn’t help her already shitty interpretation of Eric. Either way, she agreed not to go after him for being a total jerk.