I’d rather just pretend it isn’t real.
But as with so many things in my life, my thoughts keep goingback to the darkness.
The sound of my phone vibrating on the nightstand doesn’t just conjureup my memories with her, but memories of the crippling pain I suffered with forso long…the pain that still returns on occasion, sieging my body and capturingmy mind.
In an instant, I’m transported back to the days when I wasn’tstrong enough to battle my emotions. When I was alone and helpless and afraid.
15
Jay
Something changed the moment he got that call. He went frombeing silly and laughing to being totally serious in an instant.
Who the fuck could it have been that made him do a complete one-eighty?And why is he starting to sweat?
My insecurity creeped in when I first heard the phone vibratingagainst the nightstand. I thought it might have been another guy. Even if itwas, it’s not like we’re exclusive. Hell, we’ve only been doing this for twoweeks. I don’t have a right to pry into his extracurricular interests, but Idon’t think that’s what this is. He’s not acting shady. He’s acting likesomething scared the shit out of him. Like it was Death itself trying to getahold of him.
Between the sweat beading on his forehead and his ghostly paleflesh, it seems to have set off an episode. Was it the sound of the phonevibrating? Surely that wasn’t enough to surprise him.
Whatever the reason for the shift in his attitude, I know whatmy job tonight is: to help him forget.
I lean up and kiss him again, but he doesn’t kiss back. As Ipull away, I see that distant look in his eyes. I reach down to feel his girth.He’s still hard, but I remind myself that it’s probably just the meds. “Reese?”
“Sorry,” he says. “I don’t know if I can do anything elsetonight.”
“What’s wrong? Talk to me.”
His Adam’s apple shifts as he swallows. “Nothing,” he says. “Ijust…I’m not feeling it right now.”
He must know I can tell his behavior changed entirely because ofthat call, but in the grips of this mood that’s captured him, he can’t facewhatever it’s stirred. He rolls onto his back.
I feel empty. Like he’s just robbed me of my joy, of myexcitement, of my playfulness.
“Who was it?” I ask.
“What?”
“Who just called you?”
He shrugs.
“Come on, Reese. One minute you’re crawling all over me and thenext you look like you’re about to have a panic attack.”
“It’s not like a guy or anything,” he says quickly, as thoughthat was my biggest concern.
“That wasn’t what I was worried about,” I say.
He’s quiet again. I can tell there’s a lot more to it, but Irecall what the articles I’ve read about PTSD said about pressing. That I needto give him some space and not overwhelm him.
“It was just someone from my past. Someone who reminds me of alot of shit I went through.”
I’m relieved that he told me that much.
He’s quiet for a minute before he says, “Look, I know we’ve beengoing at this pretty regularly, but do you mind if I have a few days tomyself?”
I tense up at the suggestion. Is he trying to get rid of me?Does he not want to keep this up?
No. I push my insecurity to the back of my mind. He just startedacting this way over that phone call. And if it’s someone from his past, maybea friend he served with, then it’s likely forcing him to relive all thosenightmares that are the reason he has episodes to begin with.
