Diem finished first and pushed back from the table. “I’ll wash up,” he announced as he banged around at the sink.
Echo trailed his jerky movements as he wiped counters, rinsed pots, and filled containers with leftovers. When I delivered my plate to the sink, he shuffled aside so I could add it to the pile.
The instant I released it, Diem reached for the sponge, and it was impossible to miss the tremor in his hand as he meticulously washed the plate.
I touched his shoulder. “D?”
He kept scrubbing.
“Diem. Stop.”
He dropped the plate and sponge into the sink and braced his hands on the edge of the counter, chin falling to his chest. He squeezed his eyes shut, his jaw so tight that it vibrated.
Was it the photograph? His meeting? My mother’s comments from three days ago? My stepfather’s suggestion about fishing? Was it cravings that wouldn’t pass?
Was it all of the above?
Sometimes, I didn’t know how to bring him down from the ledge inside his mind.
Before I could encourage him to talk, he shoved back from the counter and hauled me off the ground and into his arms. The action was so unexpected, I yelped and clung for dear life, legs wrapping his waist as I secured a death grip around his head.
“Diem! What the hell?”
My shout of surprise went unanswered. With long, determined strides, Diem took us out of the kitchen, down the hall, and into the bedroom, where he dropped me on the bed and landed on top of me before I could rebound.
The action could have been fatal. He could have crushed me, but Diem was a man with an unconscious awareness of his size and weight. So, instead of deadly compression, he covered me like a soft blanket on a cold night. His arms surrounded me, and he clung with a gentleness unbefitting the formidable tank most people saw.
Diem buried his face in my neck. Tight exhales burst wetly across my skin. The distinct trickle of falling tears followed. I knew with absolute certainty that I was the only person on the planet whom Diem felt safe enough to cry in front of. It happened rarely, but when it did, those tears were utterly heart-wrenching.
Diem unraveled in my arms before I could process or understand what was happening, so I did the only thing I knew would work. Iengulfed as much of his larger body in my arms as I could and held on for dear life.
In the nineteenth century, doctors believed that removing excess or impure blood from an ailing patient would restore balance to their system and improve their health. When Diem’s tears ran, I imagined something similar. I envisioned the poison he’d been spoon-fed in childhood draining away, renewing him, bringing balance to his upside-down life.
In time, the full-body quake calmed. Diem sniffled, still not lifting his face from my neck. He exhaled a ragged breath. “Sorry. It was a rough day.”
“I gathered. The meeting?” I asked, stroking his hair.
“Part of it.”
“The picture?”
“Didn’t help.”
Diem hated being vulnerable. I could have said a million supportive things, but silence was better.
“I’m not giving up.” He kissed my earlobe, then my temple. “I swear, Tallus.” Another kiss landed on my forehead before his bloodshot gaze found mine. “I’m quitting. The booze is gone. No more drinking to escape. I won’t let it be a Band-Aid anymore. Those were excuses. I can do better. I know I’ve said it a thousand times, and you can’t possibly believe me anymore, but—”
I cupped his face in my hands, smearing the last stray tears with my thumbs. “I believe you.”
“How?”
I shrugged. Maybe it wouldn’t happen today or tomorrow or next week or next year, but I did believe Diem would one day win this battle. He would prevail.
The old Diem would have used this moment to reiterate that he didn’t deserve me, but the message had finally sunk in that I wasn’t going anywhere.
Diem settled on his side, one leg draped over mine. Balanced on an elbow, he used his other hand to loosen my necktie. I lifted my head so he could remove it, ever cautious of my glasses. With fumbling fingers, he untucked my shirt and undid the buttons down the front, top to bottom, one at a time, until the sides fell open.
I wore a light undershirt, and Diem carefully untucked the chain he’d given me, cautiously laying Boone’s ring in the center of my chest like he had discovered a precious artifact. He stared at it reverently for a long time without saying anything.
