In the Stillness(7)

“Why?” His eyebrows sink in question.

I clear my throat. “I haven’t been since before I met you. It’s been too long . . . he died ten years ago yesterday.” Fresh tears cloud my vision.

“I’m sorry.” He pulls me back into a hug and I cry some more.

It’s not for Lucas that I’m crying right now—as awful as that seems. It’s for every f*cking thing that happened after. Eric knows. And that’s why he’s squeezing me so tightly; he doesn’t want me to go back down the path. The one where I alone control how I feel. At all times.

As we crawl into bed and Eric wraps his arm around my waist, I realize I’ve made a fatal error. I don’t cry—not anymore—but I did just now in front of Eric. He knows those tears belong to the girl I was on September 10, 2001. The girl who never knew what a panic attack was, or what true fear felt like.

I’ll have to be more careful, now. I feel like I’m crawling out of my skin and wish I could make just a small cut to release some of the pressure, some of the pain. My heart races as I realize I’ve opened Pandora’s Jar. I have to cut, now. That’s all there is to it. I’ll feel better tomorrow when I do, because the adrenaline high numbs the pain. It will help me from making stupid mistakes like visiting Lucas’s grave, or crying in front of Eric. Soon I fall asleep, playing over the look on Eric’s face the first time I told him about the scars.





Chapter 4





“Morning,” Eric whispers as he kisses my forehead. He places coffee on the table next to my bed.

“Hey.” I sit up and immediately panic at the brightness outside my window. “Shit! I overslept! I’m sorry. Where are the boys?”

Eric laughs and sits at the foot of the bed. “I took them to school. My mom’s going to pick them up and they’re going to stay over at her house tonight.”

Wait, what?

“Wait, what? She’s had them overnight, like, two times, Eric, why now?”

What did you tell her?

“I told her we needed a night out to celebrate my almost finishing up my Ph.D. and she happily agreed.”

“Of course. Anything for you.” I roll my eyes and sit up.

“Jesus, Natalie, don’t be happy that I planned for you to have another day—” he stops and winces a little as my jaw drops, “God, this is frustrating!” He stands and runs his hands through his hair, tucking it behind his ears when he’s done. “What is it, Natalie, huh? What is it? We haven’t had sex in three weeks, you’re moody as hell, and yesterday you go to the grave of someone you barely knew who died ten years ago? What’s going on?” He closes his eyes and takes a careful breath. That’s Eric, always trying to regain control.

“Barely knew? Just leave me the f*ck 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.