“I’m just going to turn in for the night, I think. I’m tiredanyway.” I head into the bedroom and close the door.
Emptiness rises within me.
I’m all alone.
A part of me expects Reese to come in here and console me. Toshake out of this state he’s in and go out to the show because he cares aboutme so much. Intellectually, I get that it doesn’t work that way. Doesn’t keepme from wishing that something would change, and he would hurry in andapologize for his curt behavior, hop into some nice clothes, and dash off tothe theatre with me. That’s a pipe dream, but it’s a shame that tonight won’tbe a fun, frisky time with Reese. This is part of the package. I knew thatgetting into this. I’ve seen him struggle with this before. I want to be herefor him, but he isn’t letting me, and it’s frustrating as fuck.
I decide to get ready for bed, hoping he’ll come in and join mewhen he’s feeling better. But I wait…and wait…and wait.
He stays in the living room. I don’t hear him get up and move.Not even to go to the bathroom, and it concerns me too much to stay in here andact like nothing’s going on. He knows what’s happening, and if we just ignorethis, that’s not going to help him get any better.
I head back into the living room. He’s right where I left him afew hours ago.
He stares at the ceiling until I move closer, and he looks at mefor a moment. I don’t see the usual look of appreciation in his eyes. I seethat distant cold gaze.
It makes me sad.
“Feeling any better?” I ask.
“A little.”
If anything, he looks even worse than when I told him I wasgoing to bed. Like he’s just been stewing in self-destructive thoughts. Iimagine him replaying that time in Fallujah again and again in his head.Thinking about all that happened. All that could have happened. I imagine himthinking about what Caleb did and how helpless he felt in it all.
I kick at the base of the couch, hitting my toe lightly againstit. As I gaze down at it, I see something out of the corner of my eye. It’s anenvelope on the floor, on the other end of the couch. It has crinkled marks inthe middle, as though someone gripped it tight.
My curiosity gets the best of me.
Is this what set him off? Is this the thing that made him gofrom being totally cool today to being this shell of a person tonight?
I meander over to it, trying to act casual. Like I’m not up to nogood, but given the state he’s in, I wonder if he’ll even notice.
I grip the letter between my toes and kick my leg behind me,grabbing it.
As he shifts his head, turning to the TV, I take a glance to seewho the letter’s from.
Melanie.
His ex-wife.
“Reese,” I say.
He keeps staring ahead. He’s gone, and regardless of why he’sgone, it’s like he’s not even here. And it’s the most painful and lonelyfeeling in the world. This must have been what he would do to her. Why shecouldn’t stay.
My face trembles and my eyes water. I’m not proud. I shouldn’tbe about to break down when I know what’s causing this. But as impersonal as itis, it feels so deeply personal.
I walk around the couch so that I’m standing in front of him. Sothat he has to look at me.
“Reese, why didn’t you tell me you got this?”
I display the letter. He looks at it for a moment before hisgaze drifts. “What about it?”
“This is why you’re acting like this, isn’t it? Jesus, Reese,you should have just told me.”
“It’s about more than that.”
“This is clearly part of it, though. Talk to me. I want to helpyou.”
“You can’t help me, Jay. No one can help me.”
