In the Stillness Page 3

  “Barely knew? Just leave me the fuck alone, Eric! Goddammit! You’re in the lab twenty-four-seven and I’m with them twenty-four-seven. I love the boys, Eric, you know I do, but sometimes . . . Fuck!” I jump out of bed and head for the shower, locking the door behind me.

  As the steam takes over my tiny retreat, I stare at the last razor left in my bathroom—the one I use to shave my legs. Before I know it, I’m breaking it apart and dragging it slowly across my hip bone. I wince a little at first, until the adrenaline kicks in and gives me its promised high. I have a whole day and night alone with Eric—something I regularly complain we don’t get enough of—and I find myself clamoring for an escape.

  I should call Dr. Greene, is what I should do—if she even still has a practice in the area. That’s who my parents set me up with when they allowed me to return for my junior/senior year at Mount Holyoke. It should have been my senior year, but that semester spent in intensive therapy in Pennsylvania was necessary by their standards.

  When Eric came along, my parents were more than supportive. He was the first boyfriend I had since Ryker, and it was long enough after “the incident” that they felt the timing was appropriate. Given that Eric was on the road to his Ph.D. and was not in the military, I’m surprised my mother didn’t plan a wedding the first time she met him. It wouldn’t be long after that, however, that two pink lines would walk me down the aisle.

  My mind creeps back to yesterday’s visit to the cemetery, and I slide down the shower wall, huddling into myself on the floor.

  * * *

  “We have to report for duty.” Just a month after terrorists screwed with the safety I took for granted, Ryker was telling me he had to go.

  The previous three weeks had been tense; his jaw was clenched a lot and he always seemed on alert. We’d only had sex a couple of times. Although we were in my dorm room, Lucas was with him—arms crossed, standing in my doorway looking like he’d rather crawl out of his skin than watch our exchange. Lucas didn’t have a girlfriend then, and the three of us had spent a lot of time together. He and I had formed a sibling-like relationship that served us both well; my little brother was eight years younger, and Lucas was an only child.

  “Both of you?” My pulse quickened as my eyes darted back and forth.

  Lucas shifted uncomfortably before swallowing. “We’re in the same unit, Nat.” He shrugged and ran his hand over his bronze buzz-cut.

  I stood and positioned myself between them, but Ryker kept his hand on my arm.

  “But you guys won’t have to go overseas, right? You’re in the National Guard. Aren’t you supposed to stay here and, like, protect our borders or something?” I was silently cursing myself for not paying more attention to the branches of military and their duties.

  Ryker stood and took my shoulders. He looked over at Lucas for a second before taking a deep breath and looking back at me. “This is different, Natalie.” Shit, he used my full name. “We won’t really know where we’ll be going for a couple of weeks, but . . .”

  “But what, Ry?” My shaky voice betrayed the strength I was trying to portray.

  Bush is going to send them to Afghanistan.

  His jaw beat against his skin like a bass drum. “We’ll be fine, we’re trained,” he smiled and gave a little laugh, “it’s our job.”

  I believed him. He was unwavering, confident, sure. In fact, when I looked over my shoulder, Lucas suddenly seemed bored with the whole conversation. That boy was a soldier, through and through. It was like he’d always prepared for this moment while the rest of us plodded happily along in our lives, and he was just now feeling alive. It’s not that Ryker didn’t look like a soldier the way Lucas did; it’s that I didn’t want him to.

  “So you’ll . . . what,” I swallowed back my tears, “leave next week and . . . that’s it? I won’t see you till you come home from wherever they send you?”

  Ryker wiped my cheek with his thumb and just nodded.

  “But for the next week?” I leaned into his hand.

  He kissed my forehead. “Every day and night for the next week.”

  * * *

  Eric knocks on the bathroom door.

  “Yeah?” I stand with a shiver, realizing the water has turned cold.

  “Just checking. You’ve been in there a while.” I can tell he’s resting his forehead on the bathroom door; it’s what he does when he’s emotionally exhausted—rests his head.

  I need to get my shit together or Eric will call my parents. Today I’ll play nice and give him some attention so he’ll leave me alone for a few days.

  “I’m fine, Babe, be out in a minute.”

  I turn off the water, pour peroxide down my hip and over the razor, and mentally prepare for twenty-four hours alone with my husband.

  “Tosha called your cell. I picked up and she said she’s home from her trip—wants you to call her about getting together for lunch.”

  Thank God for Tosha.

  I open the bathroom door and smile up at Eric. “Do you mind if I grab lunch with her, then you and I can spend the afternoon and evening together?”

  He buys my smile and returns one of his own. “Of course. I’ll clean up around here and when you get home we’ll find something to do.” He playfully wiggles his eyebrows and I know what he means. Too bad we can’t have sex till tonight, with the lights off, so he can’t see what I just did to my hip.

  Shit.

  I rise on my toes and kiss his scruffy chin. “You need to shave.” I force a giggle before turning to the bedroom to dress.

  “Have fun with Tosha, I’m gonna go grab some coffee.”

  I throw on a thin long-sleeved shirt, despite the seventy-degree heatwave, and prepare for lunch with my best friend— the only person who knows me better than my husband thinks he does.

  An hour later I’m sitting on the patio of The Pub, while Tosha illegally smokes a cigarette over our margaritas.

  “Tosh, put that shit out, you’re going to get us kicked out!” I laugh and sip my lunchtime alcohol. Tosha and I always order liquor with lunch; it’s been our small act of rebellion since we turned twenty-one.

  “Oh screw them.” She rolls her eyes and puts her cigarette out on the table. “Anyway, what’s going on with you? You look all . . . emo.” Despite being a professor, she often finds herself at a loss for an appropriate word.

  You have to tell her. Just do it now and get it all over with.

  I take a deep breath. “I went to Lucas’s grave yesterday.”

  Tosha chokes on her margarita. “What the fu- what? What the hell possessed you to do that?” She unabashedly reaches for a second cigarette.

  I see you. Stop staring at my left arm.

  “I don’t know,” I’m honest, “I had some free time yesterday and just drove around. Before I knew it, I was yelling at him for dying. It was ten years ago, Tosh, ten fucking years ago.”

  She hasn’t taken a drag since she lit her cigarette; she’s staring at me slack-jawed.

  “You yelled at his grave? Does Eric know you went there?” She finally pulls on the cigarette. A good long drag.

  “Yeah. He doesn’t get it, though. I lost my shit on him this morning.”

  “I don’t really get it, either, Nat.” Her eyes bleed concern.

  “I’ve just been stressed lately, I guess—”

  “It’s not Lucas’s fault. Or Ryker’s. And, not even really yours, you know.” She plays with her hair with one hand and holds her Marlboro and margarita in the other. “You got sick . . .”

  “Yeah.” I snort sarcastically.

  “Then . . . you got better. And met Eric.” Bless her heart—she’s trying to believe her own words.

  The truth is, I got through it. Then met Eric.

  “It felt good, though. To cry a little at his grave.” I shrug and swallow some salted tequila.

  “You haven’t seen—”

  I shake my head and cut her off. “No, I haven’t seen Ryker.”

  “Wow, his
name rolled off your tongue easy enough.” Tosh was present for the period when I couldn’t even hear his name without a meltdown. “Maybe your brain, like, knew it’d been ten years or something.”

  “Maybe.” I sigh.

  “Are you going to go to the cemetery again? I’ll come with you if you do.”

  “I doubt it,” I lie.

  She nods. “Okay. Well, if you do—”

  “I won’t. Trust me. Yesterday was more than enough.”

  We sit in silence until our food comes. Suddenly, I’ve lost my appetite, but I pick at my salad anyway.

  “Are you so ready to have the school year end?” I ask Tosha, breaking our silence.

  “Ugh, you have no idea. I can’t wait to teach some higher level classes—the freshmen are such self-righteous twits.”

  “I’m sure we were nothing like that.” I wink, she laughs. We’re back.

  Tosha teaches biology at Mount Holyoke. She loves to hate it; that’s why I love her. She smokes to be difficult.

  “Certainly not,” she mocks in a faux-snooty tone.

  For a fleeting passage of time, we’re two seniors, giggling about when I’d met Eric—a hot guy I met randomly on the sidewalk, and subsequently spent a week stalking on Myspace. I finally gathered the nerve to call him.

  Now, here I sit, at the extended end of that phone call.

  Chapter 5

  “How are we going to afford this, Eric?” I smooth out my dress and glide some cherry gloss over my lips.

  Eric couldn’t wait to surprise me with dinner at The Lord Jeffery Inn. Situated along the Amherst common, it’s one of the finest dining places in the area. I’d been there a few times with my parents during college, and once with Eric’s parents, but this isn’t somewhere we’ve come on our own dollar.

  “I told you, one of the visiting professors saw how hard I was working. He asked what I had going on at home, and when I told him I had a wife and twins he gave us this night out.” He takes my hand as we head up the stone stairs. “He has kids, too, and knows how hard it is to do what we do and have a family at home.”

  “He’s got that right. Wow, the renovations they did are gorgeous.” I squeeze Eric’s hand as the hostess leads us to our table.

  Dinner is perfection. After my hard cry yesterday, and lunch today, I feel fully present with Eric for the first time in a long time.

  “How’s your food?” Eric asks as he sips his scotch.

  I grin. “It’s excellent. How’s the scotch? It’s been a long time since you’ve had anything good.”

  “It’s great.” He smiles and holds his hand out across the table. I grab it and rub my thumb across the back of his hand.

  “I’m sorry for the past few days, Babe.” I take a deep breath, “The boys have just been extra challenging lately and, honestly? I can’t wait for kindergarten.” I hold my breath and wait for his reaction, as the “kindergarten” bit sort of flew out there. He smiles.

  “Natalie, I’m sorry. After the day I had with them yesterday, I can’t believe you haven’t gone crazy by now.”

  Ha.

  “I appreciate you saying sorry. I need you around more, and that’s just the bottom line, Eric. I’m not cut out to be a full-time mom—I never was. God, that sounds awful.” I sit back in my chair and finish my second glass of wine.

  “It’s not awful, Nat,” he pauses when he calls me Nat and I shrug, waving him on, “it’s honest. You’ve always been honest and that’s why I fell in love with you.”

  He’s right, that’s why he fell in love with me. My honesty . . .

  * * *

  “Third date with Fluid Mechanics, huh?” Tosha puckered her lips and kissed my cheek.

  “He has a name, Tosha.” I laughed.

  “Sorry. Third date with Hottie-McEric?”

  “Yes.”

  Eric and I had been out twice in the two weeks since he chased me down on the sidewalk and gave me his number. After seven days of sufficient Myspace stalking, I decided to call him. We went to Judie’s on our first date and sat at a table overlooking the bench where we first met. It was supposed to be funny, but I realize now that both of us were full-on committed before we even finished our first conversation on that bench. The second date we watched a baseball game at UMass under the lights.

  “What are you two going to do tonight?”

  “Casablanca is playing at the Amherst Cinema. Neither one of us have seen it, so we’re gonna check it out.”

  “Has he kissed you yet?” Tosha took a while to get to her favorite question.

  “Not yet,” I shake my head, “he’s a total gentleman.”

  I didn’t miss the flicker of bittersweet that crossed her face. She knew better than to compare Eric to Ryker; she never tried, she just knew there could never be a comparison sufficient enough.

  I met Eric at his apartment and we walked hand-in-hand to the Amherst Cinema.

  “I was thinking,” Eric slightly tightened his grip as he talked, “you’re a year older than me.”

  “Yeah, and?”

  He shyly bit his lip. “I’m a year ahead of you in school.”

  “You finished your undergrad a year early, genius,” I teased.

  “Right, but then that should make us in the same year. Right?”

  Shit.

  “Well,” I sighed nonchalantly, “you caught me. I took a semester off, and had been behind before that. I should have graduated last year, but here I am.” I shrugged and smiled.

  “Did you have an internship or something?”

  Yeah, in the psych ward near my parents’ house.

  “Or something.” I shot him a coy smile and squeezed his hand back, hoping he’d drop it.

  He did.

  A few weeks later, however, I wasn’t so lucky. I introduced my parents to Eric at my graduation. He was cute; I watched him wring his hands during the whole ceremony as he sat next to my tweed-coated father. Yeah, tweed in May. Cue the eye-roll.

  Anyway, during the milling-about after the ceremony, my world froze. Standing with Eric, my parents, and Tosha’s family, I saw Ryker out of the corner of my eye. We hadn’t seen each other in almost two years. He was standing across the grass with shaggy blonde hair I’d never seen before. He was alone.

  “Natalie, Honey, are you okay? You look pale.” My mom touched my wrist and all eyes were on me as I instinctively pulled away and edged my way through the crowd.

  When I got to the other side of the well-wishers, Ryker wasn’t there.

  “Ryker?” I called across the vacant space. “Ry?”

  Tosha ran up behind me and grabbed my arm. “Jesus, Nat, what are you doing?”

  “Ryker was just standing right here.” I held out my arms.

  “No, he wasn’t.” She swallowed, trying to believe herself. “Besides, even if he was, what were you going to do, run up and hug him in front of your parents and Eric? Would you even talk to him? It’s been too long, Natalie, fucking let it go. This is our day, not his.”

  My pulse was racing through my body and a cold sweat overtook my forehead.

  In through your nose, out through your mouth. Don’t freak out. Not here. Not now.

  I repeated my breathing mantra over and over for what felt like several minutes, but it was only a few seconds. One more cleansing breath later, we linked arms and turned to walk back to my parents.

  Eric was standing right in front of us.

  “Who’s Ryker?” he asked, looking at the grass.

  “What?” I tried to sound light, as if he hadn’t really heard any or all of my conversation with Tosha.

  “Who’s Ryker?” He cocked his head back toward my parents. “Your dad said he thought he heard you say his name and your mom acted like she was going to pass out. Who’s Ryker, Natalie?”

  I looked at Tosha, who shrugged and bugged her eyes like, what the hell do you want me to say? I grabbed Eric’s hand and looked him in the eyes.

  “Your hand is shaking like crazy.” He squeezed my ha
nd to stop it.

  “I’ll tell you about Ryker. Tonight. Just, please, don’t mention him in front of my parents, okay? It will make sense later, just . . . please.”

  He smiled and kissed my hand. “Okay, I promise.”

  It will never make sense.

  * * *

  “Have a good night.” The hostess waves to us as we walk into the mild April night.

  Eric and I stroll drunkenly up the sidewalk toward our apartment. Thanks to the wine and all the crying, I’m feeling quite relaxed.

  “Hey.” I pull him to a stop under a huge tree at the edge of the common.

  “What?”

  “Remember when you first kissed me here?” I pull him toward me and wrap my arms around his waist, looking up at him.

  He bites his lip. “I do. God, I was so nervous.”

  “Do it again.”

  “What?” His right eyebrow crooks in.

  The expensive Syrah is in control of my words. “Kiss me, Eric. Like the first time.”

  “It would be my pleasure,” he whispers, tucking a strand of hair behind my ear.

  Eric leans down and presses his lips into mine. I release my arms from his waist and place them on his solid shoulders. I don’t know when he has time to work out, but I ignore that for the moment. It feels good to be kissed—to be wanted.

  “Let’s go home,” I whisper onto his lips.

  He gives me a playful smile and nearly drags me the rest of the five-minute walk.

  We crash into our apartment and kick off our shoes at the door. I drag Eric by the collar and sit him on the couch, straddling him with my tongue in his mouth. He grabs my hips, forcing me down hard on his lap. I moan into his mouth, excited by his urgency. Of course he’s urgent—it’s been three weeks. Eric reaches for the hem of my dress, but my hand automatically slaps around his wrist.

  “What?” he asks, startled.

  “I want you in the bedroom,” I say while I slide off his lap.

  With the lights off.

  Where you can’t see what I’ve done to myself.

  Chapter 6