In the Stillness (18 page)

“Worried?” he snorted. “You were
worried
? You didn’t seem that worried when you took off the other day.”

“You told me to leave, Ryker.” Even though I was leaving anyway, I felt that I should remind him that he slammed the door behind me.

“Because you don’t support me!”

My depression turned to rage as I stood toe-to-toe with him. Tequila oozed through his breath. “I don’t support you? How
dare
you say that. I love you, and it kills me that you’re choosing reenlisting over me, Ryker. It
kills
me. I’ll stand by you and support any healthy decision you make, but this isn’t one of them.”

Ryker’s tone turned soft and cold. “Get out of my face, Natalie.”

I should have listened.
 

“No, Ryker, I won’t. I want you to wake up and see what you’re doing. You can’t reenlist. You can’t. You’re driving drunk around town, telling me you’re getting help when your dad says you’re not.” I put my hands on his shoulders. “Ryker, look at me, please. I’m scared that if you go back over there, you won’t come home this time.”

His voice remained unchanged, but his eyes stayed latched onto mine. “I didn’t come home last time, Natalie. Or, were you too wrapped up in your own life to notice that? Now,
please
, get out of my face.” He started to pull back from me, but couldn’t get very far since he was leaning against the car.

I shook my head. “You’re still you, Ryker.” I tightened my grip on his hard shoulders. “You just need to get help to—”

In a flash I was flying backward across the driveway as Ryker’s palms connected with my chest. Before his hands left my body, I saw Bill race down the stairs toward his son, who was following me. I hit the ground hard and started scrambling backward to try to get to my feet.

“I said get out of my face!” Ryker’s face was barely an inch from mine, his alcoholic spit spraying across my face as he yelled.

“Ryker!” Bill caught up to him and pulled him back far enough to allow me the space to stand. “Ryker, if you don’t stop screaming, someone is going to call the police. Calm down and come inside.” Bill turned toward me with pleading eyes. “Natalie,
go.
”
 

It wasn’t the time to argue. It was the time to run. As I got in and started my car, Ryker’s face changed and he broke free from his dad’s grip and banged on my window.
 

“Natalie! Natalie, I’m so sorry. Shit. Natalie! I love you, I’m sorry!” He left his fists against the window as I put the car in reverse.

I shook my head, tears from pain of all kinds spilled down my cheeks, and sped backward onto the road. As I drove away, I watched Ryker punch the tree next to the car and storm inside his house.

Without much thought behind my heavy breathing, I drove straight to the cemetery that held Lucas Fisher. Dusk was closing in, and I wanted to confront him before being asked to leave by the police, or whoever it was that guarded the bones at night.
 

“You,” I sneered as I found his grave through a maze of marble. “You
promised
you’d take care of him!”
 

My tailbone started throbbing from my landing in the driveway. Sinking to my knees, I rested my forehead on his stone and continued my verbal assault.

“
Why?
He’s fucking
gone
, Lucas, gone! You took him over there with you and sent
this
home?” The stone was impervious to the salt water I thrust upon it.

I thumped my fists on top of the stone. “Fix it.
Please.
Somehow, fix this. It’s killing me.” I sat back on my heels and stared at his name. “And, it’s killing him, Lucas.”
 

A weak mew silenced my yell, turning it to a whisper. “I’m losing him.”

* * *
 

“You don’t love me.” Eric forms this as a statement rather than a question.
 

I stare at him, unable to construct an answer that doesn’t sound awful. I’ve already said the worst, though.

He drops his hands and takes a step back. “And, when, exactly, did you arrive at this conclusion?”

Good question. He wants a date, a scientific pinpoint for the moment he lost my heart. The problem is, I don’t think he ever had it.
 

I’m temporarily saved from having to fumble through an answer I know won’t suffice as Max and Ollie race into the kitchen. Eric and I each pick up and hug an exuberant boy as our eyes remain locked on each other; mine watering, his—empty.

Chapter 21

“Eric’s not working today?” Tosha asks as we eat lunch at Judie’s.
 

“Apparently not. Graduation’s next week, I had lots of shit to get straightened out with The Clarke School today . . .”

“How’s everyone adjusting to the news? I’m really sorry, Nat . . .” She reaches across the table and takes my hand.

I give her a gentle squeeze. “It’s going to be okay. We’re trying not to get all hyper about it around him right now because we don’t want to scare him. We’re going to get all his supports lined up and talk to him slowly about it. I don’t know how, though.” Tears form at the thought of trying to explain, in words, to my almost-five-year-old, that he won’t be able to hear any of us soon.
 

“How’s Eric handling the news?” Tosha knows all too well how perfect Eric likes things to be. Hence, the marriage while I was pregnant with the twins.

I roll my eyes. “He got annoyed at the prospect of learning sign language. I know he’s overwhelmed but—”

“No,” Tosha cuts me off, “fuck that. He doesn’t get to pick and choose which ugly comes into his life. None of us do.”

“Ha, no shit,” I snort as I pick at the remains of my salad.

We pay the bill, and Tosha suggests we take a drive over to Atkins Market to take advantage of the fresh, local produce. I’m a willing hostage, given how much I was able to get done this morning without eighty pounds of children hanging off of my body.
 

* * *

I still remember cutting after I got home from Ryker’s house the night he pushed me. I was suffocating under the fear and guilt that breaking up with him had pushed him over an edge I didn’t realize he was standing so close to. I stormed through our door, and Tosha was startled at my appearance, I’m sure. My butt was dirty and the backs of my legs were scratched from my skid-landing across Ryker’s driveway, and I was sobbing uncontrollably. I didn’t look at her as I headed straight for the bathroom.

Turning on the sink, I readied the blade and started slowly drawing straight lines across my forearms. I hadn’t cut there in a long time, but it was easily accessible and gave the biggest rush. After several minutes of careful marking, my head started to spin as my stomach churned. I didn’t think I’d cut that much, but as soon as I looked at my arms—rivers of red pouring across them—I collapsed to my knees and started heaving into the toilet.

“Natalie?” Tosha started banging on the door as I heaved, and cried, and bled. “Natalie! Open this door or I’m going to have to break it down.”

It was an empty threat, but I unlocked the door anyway. The noise that came from her throat when she walked in is something I’ll never forget. Within seconds, she had me over at the shower, washing my arms in a panic. It turns out I didn’t cut that deep, but there were a lot of cuts that made it look worse than it was.
 

“Damn it, Natalie, what the fuck happened?”
 

I don’t know if she meant at Ryker’s or with me, but I sat on the bathroom floor and she cried with me as I told her absolutely everything.

It wasn’t easy convincing Tosha to leave my parents out of the situation with Ryker at his house, or with my cutting, but I managed to do so. She’d only met my parents a few times, but knew well enough that my mother wouldn’t hesitate to push legal action on Ryker, and probably take me out of school if she knew about the cutting. I promised Tosha I wouldn’t cut anymore—that I’d make it to Thanksgiving Break—and then be able to get my shit together when I went home for a few days.

 
I’d ignored all calls and texts from Ryker. They were apologetic and self-deprecating. He said how sorry he was, asked if I was hurt, and went on about what a fool he’d been. It was hard ignoring him. I knew he probably
was
sorry, but I didn’t know how long that would last, and I couldn’t focus on how to construct a safe environment for us to have a conversation with so many papers due before Thanksgiving break.

It had been a few days of silence from Ryker, and the soreness in my tailbone had mostly subsided, when Bill called. My sigh put Tosha on alert.

“Is it him again?”

I shook my head. “It’s Bill.” I closed my notebook and sat cross-legged on my bed.

“Hey, Bill . . .”
 

Instead of Bill’s voice of assurance, I was met with Ryker’s strung-out voice.

“Natalie.”

No. No. No.

Before I could think of doing anything else, I slammed my flip-phone shut and threw it on the bed.

“What?” Tosha asked, walking toward me.

“That was Ryker, from his dad’s phone. He sounded awful.” I looked to her as my chin started to quiver.

Tosha looked around the room for a minute before picking up her car keys. “Come on, let’s go.”

“What?”
 

“We’ve got to get out of here. You’ve done nothing but mope around for weeks, and the last few days have been like some episode of “My So-Called Life.” We’ve gotta go drink, and dance, and act like college students for five seconds.”
 

She was right. Despite my encouraging otherwise, Tosha spent most of her time with me, when she wasn’t with Liz. She said she loved me too much to let me suffer alone.

“Fine, let me change,” I conceded before heading to my closet.

 
My phone rang with Bill’s number three more times before we agreed to leave our cells in our room and enjoy the night interruption-free.

“We’ll go to Liz’s first to pick her up, I texted her while you were changing.” Tosha and I bounded down the stairs.
 

“Perfect, let’s go somewhere new.” I smiled at the thought of just going out with friends. I hadn’t done that since Ryker had been home.
 

As we reached the entryway, I cursed under my breath.

“What?” Tosha stopped with her hand on the door.
 

“I forgot my damn debit card. I’ll meet you at your car, be right back.” I raced up the stairs, fumbled through my desk and found my card.
 

Turning to leave my room I was nearly knocked over when I ran right into someone in my doorway.
 

“Ryker!” I squealed as he stood solid, unmoved by the collision.

I still don’t know how he got into the building, but that doesn’t matter anymore. What matters is that my shock instantly singed into fear as I looked him over. He was pale, sweating, and vacant-looking.

“Natalie, I need you to listen to me . . .” I didn’t smell alcohol on his breath, but something was off. He was swaying like he’d just gotten off a ride at the fair, and he was wearing shorts and a t-shirt despite it being November.

“Are you okay, Ry?” I asked, stepping aside as he entered the room. I turned so my back was to the door, but I could still get out if I needed to.

He shook his head as he plunked down on Tosha’s bed. “I’m sorry if I hurt you the other night.”

“I’m fine, I—”

“No!” he shouted, “It’s not fine! I’m such a fucking mess, Natalie . . .”

 
And then, he started to cry. I’d never seen him cry, not even when we went to Lucas’s grave. He shook with frightening force as he dug the heels of his hands into his eyes. Deep breaths leading the way. I walked over and sat down next to him.

“Ry,” I whispered, setting my hand on his shoulder.

He jerked anyway, despite my gentle touch, and an empty prescription bottle fell out of his cargo pocket and landed on the floor. I picked it up before he knew it was missing.

“What’s this?” I rolled the label over and saw they were Oxycontin. The date was recent. “How’d you get these?”

Ryker snatched the bottle from my hand. “Remember? I got
shot?
” he spewed.

“Yes,” I stood slowly and walked back toward the door, wondering how long it would take Tosha to come check on what was taking me so long, “but you’re done with therapy and that’s a new prescription.”
 

“It still hurts.” Ryker picked his head up, and I noticed his lips were pale and his pupils looked kind of funny.

“What hurts?” I knew he wasn’t just talking about his shoulder.

“Everything. Luke, you . . .”

“Ryker, when did you pick up that prescription?” I anchored my heels in the doorway, hoping to catch someone as they walked by.

“Huh?” Ryker shook his head as he seemed to try to understand me.

My chest heaved under my erratic breaths. “Ryker, how many of those pills did you take today?”
 

He chuckled, followed by a low growl, “All of them.” Ryker looked up and must have seen the fear on my face because he leapt to his feet and met me at the door. “Shh,” he whispered, putting his finger to my lips, “you can’t say anything. I’ll get in so much trouble, Nat . . .”