When Darkness Falls(26)

They rode the elevator down in silence. Haley took Devon’s arm as they walked toward the revolving doors, felt him stiffen as they stepped out into the night. The weather had turned cold again. Snow had fallen while they were inside, but it was fluffy snow, easy to brush away. Devon insisted he felt well enough to clear the car while Haley sat inside with the defroster blasting.

“It’s easier at night,” he said. “The dark sort of surrounds me, like walls. I don’t feel so exposed.”

When they got into the car to drive home, Haley at the wheel in case, Haley said, “I didn’t know you never pictured yourself getting married.”

“I didn’t. Until I met you. I figured I wouldn’t be very good at it, given the example I had, and I never met anyone I could imagine having a family with. You changed all that. But I don’t think it was stressful. I didn’t feel anxious about anything, except whether you’d say yes, until I got these attacks. That’s when I started feeling stressed.”

“So you think Dr. Richardson is wrong? Her whole rain barrel theory?”

“No. I don’t know. Maybe I block out what bothers me. That’s how I dealt with my family a lot when I was a kid, I didn’t think about things. So I could’ve been nervous about being a good husband, about things working out. And about my music and everything she mentioned. It makes more sense than anything those other doctors said.”

“Did you ask her about the sleepwalking?”

“I forgot. Next time.”

Haley felt some of the tension ease out of her neck and shoulders. He was going back. Maybe everything would be fine.

? ? ?

The next few days weren’t fine. They were sunny. And warm, for early April. Devon stayed in the dining room most of the time because it had no windows. He sat in a dining chair and played guitar, eyeing the tiny window over the kitchen sink as if the light might reach out and choke him. Haley tried not to feel disappointed. It wasn’t as if one talk with Dr. Richardson was going to cure Devon immediately, and he was reading the literature the doctor provided. She read it, too, and hoped for the best. In the meantime, Devon encouraged her to get out of the apartment. She had dinner with Kari one night, but the next evening, after work, she and Devon cooked dinner together and hung out playing board games. It was nice.

That night, she woke around two in the morning to find Devon sitting in bed.

“What is it?” she said.

He cleared his throat. “Would you do something for me tomorrow?”

“Of course.”

“Shut the blinds when you leave?”

Her stomach sank, but she kept her voice steady. “Sure.”

“Thanks.”

In the morning, his eyes stayed closed as she got ready for work, though she had the feeling he was awake. She kissed his forehead and shut the blinds. She hoped it was only for a while, until he started whatever stress reduction techniques the doctor was going to show him. When she got home that night, the blinds were still shut. She didn’t say anything, and neither did he.

? ? ?

When he was home alone, Devon practiced the relaxation exercises Dr. Richardson had given him. He stopped watching or listening to the news, not that he’d ever watched much anyway, because Richardson said most news contained almost nothing anyone needed to know and fostered fear and anxiety. He visualized himself standing at a window, and then being outside. That was easy. It didn’t make his palms sweat or his heart so much as skip a beat.

But the second he stepped near a window and actually felt a draft through the casements or sunshine on his face through the glass, his heart began pounding. The books he read said his mind didn’t know the difference between a vividly imagined fantasy and reality, but apparently his body did. The books also said that along with following a stress reduction program, he had to gradually expose himself to the panic-triggering event or place and desensitize himself to it.

He couldn’t.

Rational or not, he knew if he went outdoors, he might have an attack, and if he stayed outdoors, he would die. Knowing everyone who had panic attacks felt that way didn’t help. This was his life. He couldn’t gamble with it.





Chapter Eleven


The wedding band fell apart, which worried Devon because it meant Haley had less to do and seemed more restless home with him all the time. The bass player and keyboard player were sick of the wedding circuit and wanted to play their own music at clubs. The guitar player asked Haley if she wanted to find replacements, but Haley decided not to. She told Devon she had enjoyed singing with the band, it gave her confidence again, but it left her little time outside of work to figure out what else she wanted to do. Devon encouraged her to go visit John and Anne Beudel again, despite that she felt sure she didn’t want to play folk or bluegrass anymore. He told her he wanted her to keep getting out and seeing people, to not feel she had to sit home with him. Devon called a couple friends he knew out that way who played blues and jazz, so Haley could branch out a little musically. He’d tried teaching her a few things himself, but he wasn’t a very patient teacher. He wasn’t very patient at anything these days.

He didn’t tell her he felt a longing so intense his entire body ached. He wasn’t sure if he longed for time to himself or simply for Haley to go away. Neither would sound good to her. It wasn’t that he didn’t want to be with her. When he thought how empty the apartment would feel without her, his throat tightened and his arms ached at the idea of not holding her at night. At the same time, he barely kept himself from yelling at her to go. He wanted to physically grab her and force her onto the train. He wasn’t sure why, but that was how it always was lately. Fear, anger, frustration, all rose with no warning in waves that threatened to drown him.