In the Stillness (13 page)

Not this time.

“Tosh said you called her.” I continue slicing, but notice his jaw flicker out of the corner of my eye.

“Damn,” he whispers.

“Well, what the fuck, Eric? Do you think her loyalty is to you?
Why
would you call her?” Walking over to the table, I call to the boys, “Max, Ollie, come sit for snack.” Max bounds to the table while Ollie stares at the TV. “
Oliver, now.
” I use the sternest inside-voice I can muster. He jumps, startled, and races full-smile to the table.
 

“I’m freaked out, Natalie, that’s all.” Eric grabs my hand and kisses my knuckles. “I love you and I’m scared about what you’re doing to yourself.”
 

Did he inhale too many vapors at the lab today? This morning he was threatening me, and this afternoon he’s concerned? I stare at him, trying to study his motives through his eyes.
 

I’ve got nothing.

Chapter 15

“Mommy, sing that Winnie-the-Pooh song again,” Ollie asks as he snuggles into bed.
 

“No again, guys,” I sigh, “it’s been a busy day and you need sleep. We’ve got kindergarten registration in the morning.”
 

Thank. You. God.

“We get to go to kindergarten when we turn five!” Max cheers.

“Well, soon after you turn five. But yes, my big boys get to go to kindergarten
very
soon.”
 

Seriously, who’s more excited here?

“Love you, Mommy.” I really do like that they say it in unison. It’s cute.

“Night, you two, I’ll send Daddy in.” I walk out of their room and meet Eric as he comes down the hall. “They want to say night to you.” I cock my head toward their bedroom door and head into our bedroom.
 

Dinner was quiet tonight. I tried to avoid eye contact with Eric—still livid that he called Tosh about my cutting—but every time I looked at him, he was staring back with nothing but sweetness in his eyes. Maybe I’m crazier than I thought, or maybe he feels a weight off his chest since he tattled on me to my best friend, but that man cannot hold a grudge to save his life.
 

I’m just climbing into bed when Eric comes in from saying goodnight to Max and Ollie, the proud smile on his face he always has after spending time with them. I wonder what people see on my face when I’m out with my kids. It’s definitely not the carefree grin Eric carries. He undresses as I silently watch. I can’t help but love the way his Greek skin is tanned year-round and provides perfect shadows across his tight stomach. Guilt overcomes me as he slides into bed next to me. Maybe he really
was
concerned when he called Tosha today, and not just trying to rat me out. Either way, the awkward silence is suffocating.
 

* * *
 

I shouldn’t have gone to Lucas’s grave with Ryker. The ending would have been the same, but I wish I hadn’t seen the beginning. He drove, which was also another bad idea. I figured I should make a note of that for future reference, but determined that in the future I just wouldn’t go if anyone asked.
 

I offered to stay in the car, but he insisted that I come since I actually knew where the grave was.
 

“How was it?” he asked.

“How was what?”

“The service.”

I shrugged and shook my head in response, knowing no answer could possibly be right.

 
Before I could attempt an answer, Ryker cut in. “I mean . . . never mind, I don’t know what I’m asking.”

“No,” I encouraged on second thought, “it was nice. Proper. Sad. I stood with your dad and Tosha. I kind of lost it,” I said as I felt a boulder nestle into my throat.
 

Lucas’s grave was the newest one there, and the easiest to spot with the mini American flags and flowers around it. Ryker gave my hand a little squeeze before letting go and facing the gravestone. We met each other’s eyes for a split second, then he went down on one knee and rested his right hand on top of the stone.
 

Ryker spoke softly to Lucas—words I didn’t try to hear. I turned my gaze to the surrounding stones, wondering where they were from—what their stories were—until I heard an angry sort of noise come from Ryker. By the time I looked back to him, he was standing and walking back toward the car as if I wasn’t even there. I followed silently, but quickly, behind him.

He took off down the road as soon as I got in, barely giving me time to buckle my seatbelt. At the first stoplight, I turned to look at him. His knuckles were white against the steering wheel and when he looked at me . . . nothing. His eyes looked like icebergs lonely in the arctic, drifting for no one.

“Sorry,” he mumbled as he turned his eyes back to the road.

I didn’t respond because I didn’t know what he was “sorry” for. What happened at the cemetery? What was about to happen? I don’t know if he knew, either, but “sorry” was the easiest way to fill that awkward silence, I guess.

We were silent for the rest of the drive back to my dorm.
 

“I’ll come pick you up tonight, okay? That way you can just leave your car here and not worry about it,” was all he said when I got out. We were going to a party at UMass that night.
 

Something else I shouldn’t have agreed to.

I only had a few hours before I saw him again, but they felt like an eternity. I paced around a lot, thought about calling Tosha—who was living with Liz in Amherst for the summer—but settled on a nap. Maybe when I woke up I wouldn’t be so weirded out about what had happened at the cemetery.

No such luck.
 

By the time we were walking into the party, I felt a physical shift from Ryker. He was rigid, anxious, and his eyes were darting around everywhere. I tried to act “over-normal”—whatever that means—because I swore it was just my craziness making Ryker look on edge. He was completely fine that morning.

“Are you okay?” I finally asked, after he handed me a beer.

Ryker leaned down and kissed my cheek. “I’m fine, Babe. Is Tosha coming?” He rubbed his hand back and forth over his head a few times before shoving it into his jeans pocket.
 

“She’ll be here. She just lives right across the street.” A gracious second later, I spotted her bounding through the crowd with some black low-lights tearing through her blonde curls. “There she is.” I took Ryker’s hand and led him through the sweaty bodies to Tosha.

“Hey Nat. Ryker, thank
God
you’re home!” Tosha hadn’t seen Ryker in the week that he’d been home. She gave him a huge hug, and his normal smile took over his face as he returned the gesture.
 

“It’s good to be home, Tosha.” He kissed her on the cheek and stood behind me, wrapping his arm around my waist.

“What in the sane hell did you do to your hair?” I laughed as I pulled one of the black strands.
 

She didn’t have time to answer before someone slammed into Ryker, throwing him into me, and causing his beer to spill down my back, which was bare from my spaghetti-strapped dress.

“What the fuck, asshole?” The venom in Ryker’s voice caused me to spin around, where I found him holding the stumbling transgressor by the collar. His neck was red, veins popping out as he breathed through his nostrils.

“Ryker, it’s fine,” I whispered in futility under the over-pumped bass coming from the speakers. “Ry!” I yelled as a circle started to form around him.

He snapped his head toward me the second time I called his name and swallowed hard as he let go of the stranger’s collar. Wordlessly, he grabbed my hand as his eyes pierced through mine. As we pushed past Tosha, whose eyes were as wide open as her mouth, I shrugged and mouthed “I’ll call you.”
 

Ryker gripped my hand harder as we—I—speed-walked to keep up with him toward his car.

“Ryker . . . Ryker . . .” He wasn’t responding to me, but I watched his shoulders rise and fall under his deep breaths. My hand started to hurt. “Ryker, you’re hurting me!” I shrieked when
 
I thought my pinky knuckle was going to break.

“Jesus Christ, Natalie, I’m sorry.” He almost threw my hand down and ran both hands over his head as he paced back and forth in front of his car. “That guy was such a dick, and I ruined your dress. Did I hurt you? Fu—”

“No, I’m sorry,” I cut in, stepping cautiously toward him. I took his hands in mine, forcing him to stop pacing. “Today was really intense—we shouldn’t have come here—”

Ryker slammed his fists on the roof of his car, cutting me off. “What the fuck!” he growled, pressing his head into his doorframe.
 

 
“Let’s just go back to my dorm okay? I don’t have a roommate this summer, remember?”
 
I tried for a coy smile, but I’m sure it looked more nervous than anything.

He nodded. “Yeah, let’s get out of here.”

I foolishly breathed a huge sigh of relief as I got into the car and we headed back to my dorm. The nightmares started that night—for both of us.

* * *
 

“I’m sorry,” Eric whispers as he kisses tears off my cheek.

I pull my head away. “What?”

“About our fighting lately, Natalie. I know things have been tense lately. I’m sorry. I didn’t mean to make you cry.”

“You didn’t.” I sniff and wipe away my tears as I roll my back to Eric.

“But, you’re crying . . .”

“I know. It wasn’t you . . . hey, I forgot to remind you, but tomorrow is the boys’ kindergarten screening—”

“Seriously, Natalie?” he cuts me off.

“Seriously,” I say without rolling to face him.

“It’s two days before my presentation—”

“Don’t worry if you can’t make it. I’ve got this shit handled.” I know it’s two days before his presentation, and I don’t
need
him there for registration. But, I refuse to not tell him about life events just to prevent guilt he may or may not feel.

Eric lets out a long sigh and we’re both quiet for a long time, each wanting the other to think we’re asleep.

Chapter 16

“I wonder if I should try to get ahold of Ryker,” I say to Tosha on the phone as I get the boys ready for the screening.

“Are you
trying
to make me drive off the road?”

“No . . . I mean . . . after, what? Nine and change years after I break up with him and he’s all in my head again? It’s like the universe is trying to tell me something . . . or something.” I pat the boys on the head and finish the call in the bedroom.

Tosha lets out a long groan. “I don’t know, Natalie. Maybe it’s just whatever drove you to Lucas’s grave the other day. It’s been ten years since he died . . . that’s a milestone. I think it all just trudged that ugly shit up in your brain.”

“It wasn’t all ugly, Tosh . . .”

“No, it wasn’t. But when it was, it was
really
bad. I lost you for like eight months, Natalie—more than that if you want to get technical. It only had to hurt once, Nat. Don’t make it hurt again. Just let it go.”

* * *
 

Ryker didn’t sleep the night we got home from the party. I know, because I didn’t either. I was drunk on anxiety from the turn Ryker’s personality had taken over the last twenty-four hours. I wasn’t so foolish as to think he wouldn’t struggle when he got home; I just didn’t know what to do about it.
 

By the time dawn stretched over the horizon, I heard Ryker’s breathing even out. He’d reached over and held my hand before he fell asleep. I left our fingers entwined as I listened to his peaceful breathing.
 

“No . . .” Ryker’s voice started far away, but got louder as sweat sprang across his forehead.
 
He started squeezing my hand again, and it hurt worse than when he was awake. His grip only got tighter as I tried to pull it away. He screamed louder than I ever thought someone could scream in their sleep, “Shit, Luke! No!”

He was dreaming about Lucas. I needed to pull him out of it, I thought.

“Ryker. Ryker! Wake up!” In a flash he was on his feet and I was pulled into a sitting position, because he still had my hand.

His ragged breathing filled my tiny dorm room as I watched darkness from sweat take over his grey t-shirt. Though he was looking at me, it took a second before the trance broke, and his eyes started darting around the room. He didn’t let go of my arm for a few seconds, and I didn’t ask him to. It was like watching an animal you accidentally stumbled upon in the woods—don’t make any sudden moves.

“Ry . . .” I whispered, looking at our hands, suspended in air.

He let out a frustrated sigh and, still holding my hand, sat on the bed next to me. I still didn’t try to pull it away. “Holy shit,” he mumbled.

 
Finally pulling back, he took his and rubbed it over his face a few times before looking around my room.
 

“It’s okay,” I whispered.

He was looking straight ahead, hands folded, elbows on his knees. “Did I say anything . . . when I was sleeping?”