“Whatever, that’s fine.” Shit. I tried to say it like I reallyam fine, but I can’t hide my disappointment. Can’t hide that I just want tocurl into a ball and cry.
“I just need a few days,” he adds.
Why does he have to be so goddamn vague about it?
And a few days? That could be two days…a week…longer? I’mspoiled with all the nights we’ve spent together…all these amazing nights. Tothink I’ll have to do without even a few with Reese is painful. There’s an achein me—a hunger. Like he just told me I’d have to go days without food or water.
I try to tell myself he’ll be fine. That he’ll snap out ofwhatever funk he’s in soon enough and things will be back to normal, but I’mscared as hell that won’t happen. That if I give him space he’ll just walk awayfrom this and never call me again.
I don’t want to believe he could do that, but if it’s that easyfor him to walk away now, maybe he needs to since I can feel that these fucksessions are moving towards something else. Something that maybe neither of usis ready for.
“Okay, Reese. Just…let me know, and I’ll come running back intoyour arms again.”
It’s a joke. I’m hoping it’ll lighten his mood, but it doesn’twork. He rolls off me and relaxes on his pillow, staring forward asSultryScandalscontinues playing on the TV. He breathes quickly, his chest risingand falling rapidly.
He’s gone.
Lost in the past again.
Lost in pain.
I wish I could pull him out of it, but I don’t think that’ll behappening tonight. All I can do is be here for him.
When the episode ends, I turn the TV and the lamp on thenightstand off. I tell him, “Night,” but he doesn’t respond. I’m not surehe even heard me.
I lie down in bed, facing him. The moonlight that breaks throughthe blinds shifts in his eyes as he stares at the ceiling.
It’s just a few days, I tell myself.
And maybe he’ll rethink even that once he finds his balanceagain.
I hope so.
My anxiety about his uneasiness keeps me up for another hourbefore I drift off to sleep. When I wake up, he’s already in the bathroom.Hasn’t put on his prosthetic yet. He grips the sink with one hand for supportas he dries off with a towel. I hope he’s already recovered, but when he entersthe bedroom, he skips our usual session of fooling around, puts on hisprosthetic, and changes into his work clothes. We don’t talk except when heplans out the time I should leave so that I can arrive at work without anyone suspectingwhat we’re up to. We don’t ever kiss goodbye, but for some reason, when heleaves today, I wish we had. I needed the reassurance.
I remind myself that we’re not like that.
It’s just fucking, and I can set aside my own insecurities whilehe recovers from whatever he’s going through.
Still, I can’t shake the fear that he might think there’ssomething wrong with us.
I remind myself that all this started when he got that phonecall last night, but the insecurity within me has my thoughts spiraling offinto so many different directions.
I wish he’d just let me in and tell me why it was so goddamnimportant for him to spend these next few days on his own.
16
Reese
I knew I’d get another call today. I just didn’t know what time.When her number pops up on my phone, I tense up. Sweat collects on my foreheadand palms.
I can’t answer. Not today. I won’t even listen to the message. Iknow what she’ll say. That she’s sorry for my loss. That she misses me. Thatshe misses him. That she wishes we could be a part of each other’s lives.
I wish I could do that. If ever there’s someone who wants to bethere for me, it’s Melanie. She was a saint—an angel who would have battled herway through hell for me. Not just because I’m the one she wanted to spend herlife with but because she’s a good person.
Guilt rises inside me as I think of all the times she’s tried toreach out, and all the times I’ve just ignored her.
I should be able to talk to a woman I was married to…a womanwhose only mistake in our relationship was how she continued to love me to thepoint where it turned on her. I remember years earlier when she would ask me,“Where are you, Reese?” It was before I looked for help. She’d encouraged me todo it, but I wouldn’t. I didn’t want to talk to some shrink who didn’t have aclue what it was like to be in a war, who couldn’t possibly understand what Iexperienced. Neither could Melanie, even though she wanted to. I feel bad aboutus for so many reasons. Because she loves me. Because she did everything shecould, and it was never enough. She wants to at least be friends, but I can’tsince she just reminds me of all the darkness in my past, and I’m terrifiedthat bringing her back into my life will invite back all those awful memoriesand drag me back to that nightmarish place I was once in.
